#JUST SAYING THIS FIC ISNT MINE! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

draconic-desire · 5 months

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Gosh i just loved your Sunday fic.. 😫

Im wondering what about a naive type darling? With so much isolation, it has made darling insecure. Darling thinks Sunday deserves a better woman and just ups and leaves Sunday when he isnt home. But ofc is soon found not long after 😋

ohhhh so personally i imagine this happening after sunday uses the harmony one too many times on poor reader…you never saw it coming, never would have thought sunday would hurt you despite being isolated for so long. any thoughts you had about escaping, even going outside to see friends, are obliterated. sunday becomes your whole world.

Yan!Sunday x Naive!Gn!Reader

You’ve been standing in front of Sunday’s door, fist raised and poised to knock, for twenty minutes now.

For what feels like the millionth time, you lower your hand, worrying your lip.

He’s been in there all day. Sunday is a busy man, his schedule constantly filled with meetings and Family affairs, but never too occupied that he would ignore you for an entire day.

Your mind fears the worst; even those initial days of being drowned in the Harmony, before you realized Sunday was trying to help you adjust to your life with him, is preferable to this. Did you do something wrong? Who is he in there with? Is he ignoring you?

Has he…grown tired of you?

The mere thought chills your heart and fills your veins with ice as you take a step back, inhaling sharply.

The wooden door before you is polished to a fault, bright enough that you can see your faint outline. It bitterly reminds you of how inferior you are compared to him, a mere speck of dust, a fleeting shadow on the wall.

You start to spiral. Surely Sunday, the most handsome and sought after man in Penacony, could have his pick of anyone—so why would he settle on you? Why did he bring you here, trap you in this mansion, keep you by his side, if only to throw you away in the end?

Did he never love you?

Why does that thought hurt you so much?

Heart pounding and tears blurring your vision, you quickly turn and flee, your knock forgotten.

~*~

It has long grown dark on the streets of the Golden Hour.

The normally bustling city is slumbering, the only light provided by the plethora of flashing billboards that never sleep. The few individuals you have passed are either drunks stumbling home or the stray Intellitron. You’ve been walking aimlessly for hours, wiping away tears and fruitlessly searching for a way to escape to reality.

After all your time mulling in your sadness and insecurities, you have come to the conclusion that you should relieve Sunday of his care of you. He’s much better off without you, or rather with a better individual than you. He should be dating royalty, a celebrity, an angel. The type of person who would have knocked on that door, would have strutted confidently into his office and sat directly into his lap to—

Another pair of footsteps echo behind you.

You almost don’t hear them at first, but you most definitely see the haloed shadow on the wall in front of you.

“And where do you think you’re going, (Y/n)?”

You immediately freeze, your breathing becoming erratic and shallow. His voice sends little butterflies pounding against your chest, begging to fly to him.

“Do you really think this pathetic attempt to escape would succeed?” A hand wraps around your waist, spinning you around to meet golden eyes rimmed in violet. You expect them to be filled with anger, perhaps even loathing, but you’re shocked to discover they are brimming with nothing but thinly veiled panic.

His grip tightens when you don’t respond immediately. “Answer me, (Y/n).” His voice cracks as he says your name again. “Where have you been?”

Words clog in your throat. “I—I thought—you were—you didn’t want—”

“I’ve been searching everywhere for you. You weren’t thinking. I believed we had moved beyond your futile attempts to leave, that you understood that you are mine—”

“But what if I don’t deserve to be yours!”

The two of you freeze in the wake of your outburst. His breath hitches as you lower your head and whisper softly, “I thought you stopped loving me the same as I love you.”

For once, you’ve caught Sunday off guard. His beautiful gaze widens in shock as he truly takes in your form—shivering, tears rolling down your cheeks, nails digging into your palms—and realizes his mistake.

You left because you thought he didn’t want you.

The mere idea baffles him. Standing before him is the most beautiful individual he has ever seen. Every fiber of his being screams for him to lock you in a birdcage and throw away the key—you are a precious treasure, meant to sing only for him. He has created you to be the perfect devotee in his very image.

And all of his efforts have succeeded, because you said you loved him.

His anger and fear immediately melt into softness as he holds your face between both hands, his forehead lowered to press against yours. “Oh, darling, no. You cannot fathom the adoration I harbor for you, the multitude of praises I wish to preach each day in your name.”

His voice takes on a nearly holy reverence, but his eyes shine with an untamed desire. “There is nowhere you belong except for by my side. Finding you missing this evening nearly tore my heart out. You must never venture out again, do you understand, my precious dove?”

You sniff and lean into his touch, a smile parting the river of your tears. Yes, that’s right. That’s what the Harmony said before, too: your purpose is to please Sunday, to serve Sunday, to live for Sunday.

Why would you ever doubt his love?

Why would you ever want to leave him? What a silly idea.

You think you feel a tiny pull at the back of your mind, a hook that wants to tether you to reality. But a quick slash of a knife severs the line, leaving you floating in a sea of multicolored bliss.

“I’ll never doubt you again, Sunday. I love you.”

Sunday’s lips curl into a smirk as he lifts your chin and examines the rainbows dancing in your eyes. “I love you, too, (Y/n).”

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mikgreo · 4 months

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BLLK BOYS! + “tits, boobs, or thighs?”

18+ slight nsfw, fluff.

ft. isagi, sae, aiku, reo, nagi, shidou.

a/n: im having blue lock brainrot and i cant escape them. YES, i had to write each one individually😊 kinda biased on reo.. hes my fav<3

MIGHT DO A PT. 2!!

➩ YOICHI ISAGI thighs.

he likes to think of himself as a gentleman, so he fears that staring at your ass or tits would make you uncomfortable. but from past experiences and from what hes seen, hes picked up that girls love having hands on their thighs. he loves resting his hands on your thighs and giving them an occasional squeeze. he doesnt care if your skinny, chubby, or overweight, he loves them, as much as he loves you.

“huh? honey, why are you asking me that, haha.” he scratches the back of his head, “if i had to be honest, i’d say your thighs, i love how squishy they are.”

he says as he kissed your cheek and hugged you tight, “i love you no matter what, baby <3.”

➩ ITOSHI SAE ass.

sae loves buying you expensive dresses, he likes bringing you to the fancy dinners or parties his co-workers invite him to. he loves the way the tight dresses he buys you complement your body and curves. he has you close by at all times and is very possessive of you, he finds himself holding you under his “wing” and putting his hands on your waist. he knows what he has and isnt scared to show it off, but he also knows youll be facing him the whole time, so he likes to show off his girl.

“hm. probably yer ass.” he said having the same nonchalant look on his face. “i like having those old geezers have something, they wish they could get, to look at. makes em reaal jealous. makes me the best for having such a beauty by my side.”

“i like showing off my trophies.”

➩ OLIVER AIKU tits.

aiku has a guilty pleasure of sucking on your boobs, he denies having a mommy kink, but he thinks it would be so fucking hot getting you pregnant and sucking milk out of your tits. hes not picky, but he prefers bigger boobs, he likes laying his head on them also, while fondling them.

“i hate to admit, but i fuckin’ love your tits, babe.” he looks up at you while he has his head on your chest.

“they’re jus so damn squishy and round, they sit so pretty, luv.”

➩ MIKAGE REO thighs.

growing up around money and wealthy people, the rich women he would encounter had always had some sort of plastic surgery/ procedure done, which he hated. he wanted a woman who had natural beauty, and a naturally beautiful personality to go with that. so when he met you, he fell in love, of course he couldn’t immediately act on it, not only fearing his parents disapprovement but he was scared that you would only like him for his money. but you guys hit it off just fine (a/n: i will prob write a fic ab this later, teehee.) present time, he is so inlove with you, he likes that you have natural features, of course paying no mind that you wear makeup or not, he loves you for you. he likes your thighs because its the only thing he knows a woman cant change about herself, he likes the naturalness that comes with them.

“Well, i love your thighs baby.. probably because i love laying on them, and i love how warm they are. so comfy too.” he kisses the top of your head.

“.. and cus i know thats the only thing you cant change about yourself so they’re mine forever<3.”

➩ SEISHIRO NAGI tits.

why? cus he likes the erocticness of them. (a/n: is that a word??) hes seen many video games with big busted women, so he’s always found them attractive, nagi also thinks its too much of a hassle to focus on anything else on the body, naturally boobs are the most prominent feature on a girls body, they easily stand out. so he just went with that. he personally likes to lay on them, alot. nagi would prefer smaller chested girls, mainly because he thinks theyre adorable, he would definitely belittle you because of it, since he is so used to seeing women with big boobs, he thinks small ones are less overwhelming, but cute.

“mm, probs yer boobs. i like the way they feel, like stress balls, i like that theyre not big, but not too small. theyre just right for me. theyre cute.”

he definitely was confused on why you were blushing but also mad at him. no girl wants her boyfriend to tell her she has a small chest!!!

➩ RYUSEI SHIDOU ass.

shidou loves slapping your ass. in public? hes gripping it. private? cupping it. around his friends? slapping it. there will never be a time where hes not doing something with your butt. this man is a sucker for doggy, and backshots, o how he loves them. he definitely makes u do reverse cowgirl as well. definitely unironically says “gyat” to you..

will eat ur butt. will do anal. hes that freaky..

“you seriously asking me dis? obviously yer fucking butt dude i love it, i could go onnn and on about how soft and jiggly it is. level 5 gyat mama.” he winked at you turning around, crouching down to get something from the fridge. you sprinted over to him just to slap his butt for revenge.. he did not like that. lets just say u wont he walking anytime soon!!

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pynkfairyheart · 5 months

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pairings: Onyankopon x black reader

warnings: fluffy, suggestive ending

inspired by this vid

Promise

“Ony” you called out as you walked into your shared home.

“In here” he called from the kitchen.

“Hi baby” you cheesed as you walked up behind him, your arms wrapping around his bare torso.

“Hi, mama” he lifted an arm, shifting his body so he leaned against the counter. Enveloping you into his arms so he stared down at you. “How was your day, baby?” he scanned your face.

“It was good” you sang. “It was a lil busy at the salon today, but I had a cancellation so I jus did my nails instead. look.'' you put your hand in front of his face. your long square shaped nails filled with gold sparkles and gold charms.

“They look pretty, baby. You’re so talented” he grabbed your hand admiring your work.

“Yeah? Plus, they go super well with the promise ring you got me” you smiled, your eyes looking up at him with pure adoration.

“They do” he chuckled, as he adjusted the ring he got for you last year when you started dating.

“Can’t believe i’ve had this for a year” you looked at your hand.

“You hinting you ready for me to get down on one knee? Cause if that’s the case just give me a month to have everything ready nd I got you mama” he smirked, pulling you closer so your bodies were touching.

“No that’s not what i’m hinting. m’just saying it’s probably time for me to get you one.”

“You should, I think I should get one. Whatchu think?” he held up his bare hand with a smirk.

“Yeah? Want me to get you one?” you smiled.

“Nah youn gotta get me one ma, I mean you can if you want to, but you don’t need to spend any money on one. we can wait til our wedding” he shrugged.

“Or I can just give it to you now” you said just above a whisper. pulling out a black velvet box, you gently place it into his hand. taking a step back to gauge his reaction. “Open it, baby” you whispered when he just stared at the box.

“What is this ma?” he looked up, his voice brittle.

“Just open it baby” you said softly.

With a shaky breath and even shakier hands, he opened the box. Inside a gold band with a rose engraved into it

“I wanted it to match mine, but if you want, we can make some alterations” you tried to see his face, your nerves rising as you watched him put the ring on. heart hammering as you watched him clench his hand into a fist.

“No this is perfect” his voice was raspy as he stared down at his hand.

“Baby?” you cautiously walked up to him. your hands gently caressing his face as he finally raised his head to meet your eyes. “Oh papa” you whispered as you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. wiping away the tears that fell from his eyes. “It’s okay, baby” you soothed him, as you looked at the tight grip his teeth had on his bottom lip. “It's okay to cry” you hugged him tightly.

“This is…I don’t even know what to say princess. thank you” he sniffled bringing you into a hug once again.

“Of course, baby.” you sighed. “Look now we’re matching” you held up your conjoined hands. “Ain’t gon be able to tell us shit” you giggled.

“Nah they definitely not” he laughed along with you. “Ion know how im ever gonna be able to repay you mama” he shook his head, admiring the ring you got him.

“You don’t have to repay me Ony. I just wanted to visibly express my love to you pa.”

“I know, I know, it’s just…no one’s ever done this before. loved me the way you do.”

“Aww, well im glad to be the first” you pouted.

“First and last” he smirked. “Now I know you said I didn't have to repay you” his hands traveled down to her thighs.

“But i'd love to show you another way of how much I appreciate you.”

okayyy first fic everrrrr nd if anyone reads this please please pleaseeee give feedback, i am open to constructive criticism. also isnt that video just so cute<333 I've been thinking about it for so long

#aot x black reader #anime x black!reader #aot x reader #black reader #onyankopon fluff #onyankopon x you #onyankopon x reader #aot onyankopon #onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon x black reader #Onyankopon x plusize reader #onyankopon x chubby reader #attack on titan #aot #aot fluff #aot fic #im nervy to post this lol

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sohnric · 8 months

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bad idea, right? – k. sunwoo

pairing: soundcloud rapper! sunwoo x gn! reader

genre: exes to lovers, angst, suggestive. i know this is toxic as fuck dont @ me sometimes i like to write shit like this because it's realistic...

word count: 4k

warnings: a whole lot of arguing, swearing, both of them being toxic and childish, a heated makeout session, overall just..messy. so messy.

a/n: similivinlife u inspired this. not my proudest moment but oh well 😵 the original of this draft was for the fic dancing in my backseat on @rrxnjun that i didnt end up using and revamped for this, so if u see any similarities it is because both fics are mine :P and once again, as always, thank u @csenke my sweetest beloved for beta reading 🤍

“I don’t think you can imagine the things I have to deal with about that track, like, I was literally in the town yesterday and around six people stopped me and wanted the backstory and I don’t know what, and it’s really, really annoying–”

Your voice cuts off, being replaced by a beat that makes acid taste on your tongue and hair stand up all alert, like a feral cat’s would when you try to get close to it, making you immediately turn off the song, letting a scream out into your pillow. There’s a storm of emotions inside of you as you take the phone you’ve been listening to the new song on back into your hand and pull up his number– because you blocked him everywhere else in hopes of never seeing his face again– and shoot him an angry text about the matter.

you [7:21pm]: are you kidding me???

you [7:21pm]: you are really so damn egoistical for doing this

you [7:21pm]: really don’t think about anyone else except yourself huh

you [7:21pm]: ignore my messages again like the last time and i swear to god i’ll send someone to beat your ass

Fingers quicker than your own thoughts, you hammer down the messages on the keyboard, laced with the fury that’s been shaking with you ever since you learned that he released a new track that included yet another one of your voice messages you sent to him. It was excruciating to listen to, to say the least– your dignity stripped away slowly, piece by piece with the unsettling realization that your personal matters are now out there in the open, for everyone to see and judge, for the whole world to pick apart and analyze. Which is kind of funny, considering the nature of your breakup– you’re not so sure his fans would like what they would find out about him, had they dug deep enough.

Not saying that you are innocent in this matter, of course– you just don’t think it’s really fair to not have the platform to tell your side of the story.

don’t pick up [7:24pm]: feisty one aren’t ya

don’t pick up [7:24pm]: what’s this about

Clenching your jaw as you stare at the messages popping up on your screen only a few minutes after yours get delivered– which is unusual for him, to say the least– you work your way through another angry reply.

you [7:25pm]: your song???

don’t pick up [7:25pm]: did you like it? ;)

A dry chuckle escapes your throat at the last message. Of course you didn’t like it. You weren’t really a fan of the invasion of your privacy. You didn’t like the fact that he once again used your voice without permission, letting the whole world listen to your angry words that were addressed to him and only him. What was there for you to like about the song? His cheesy lyrics? The way he acted like he was way above you, belittling you with the power he had over you with all those voice messages?

you [7:26pm]: yes i loved the invasion of my privacy a lot, thank you sunwoo

you [7:26pm]: isnt this illegal? ill look into it

don’t pick up [7:27pm]: now you’re being ridiculous.. its just a song y/n :)

Was he being serious? Just a song? What about the prying eyes staring at you whenever you walk through the campus? What about the whispering behind your back whenever you sit in the school cafeteria? The pointed fingers whenever someone recognises that it’s you– the one that dated the good-for-nothing Soundcloud rapper and then broke his poor little heart. Was it ever really just a song?

you [7:28pm]: you cant be fr rn..

don’t pick up [7:33pm]: ah…let’s just talk abt it then

don’t pick up [7:33pm]: i’ll pick u up at 8?

Staring at the messages on the screen, you let out another dry chuckle. The skin of your fingertips tingles when you swipe across the surface of your phone, opening the messaging app once again and tapping on the little bubble on the bottom, making the keyboard appear. The gears in your brain turn in swift motion as you try to sound nonchalant in your response, typing and deleting the message again, never getting the tone quite right.

Responding to your ex boyfriend’s jabs and teasing in person seems to be easier for you, contrary to popular demand– you don’t have much time to think of your answer before the time frame between your arguments would turn too awkward with the silence, so you just say the first thing that comes to your mind. It comes naturally to you, though, and while you don’t particularly enjoy the fury and adrenaline that his smug smirks and jarring words make you feel, the tension his sudden messages built up only makes you more hesitant.

You haven’t met up with Kim Sunwoo since the day you ended things, and you know damn well there’s a good reason for it.

Seeing him around campus or at parties of your mutual friends is a whole other thing than being with him in a closed space, all alone. It’s been a month since you ended things and while you are fairly certain that Sunwoo is a major jerk that is out to ruin your life, you can’t really tell if you’re actually over the major jerk that is out to ruin your life.

Seemingly letting Sunwoo know that you have the chat open, letting him watch your chat bubble pathetically appear and disappear in consistent time intervals, another quick message is shot your way, making your heart drum against your rib cage in even swifter motions. Running your hand through your hair, you sigh and drop the phone into your lap, helpless.

don’t pick up [7:40pm]: i’ll take it as yes

Sighing to yourself, you stand up from your bed and put on some presentable clothes. You don’t want to give Sunwoo any ideas, and that’s why you only change into clean sweatpants and a tank top, not putting much effort into your appearance at all. You need to send him the signal of being nonchalant– although your stance on the way he uses you in his songs is full of anger and resentment, you don’t want it to seem like you care much about the man himself at all.

Dragging yourself out of your room and putting on your shoes, you bump into your roommate Aeri passing you by with a mug of tea, her hair in a towel as she just came out of the shower. “You’re going somewhere?”

“Going out,” you grunt.

“Oh?” she hums, leaning into the doorframe, “with who?”

The question catches you off guard. Turning around on your heel, you flash her an innocent smile, brain thinking of every possible solution you could use to not tell her that you’re going out with the exact person you’ve spent the last few weeks grunting over in dismay. “No one important,” you start, when her face morphs into a distressed frown.

“Is it Sunwoo?”

“Look, I-”

“It is fucking Sunwoo! I heard you scream into your pillow just now, I should’ve known it was that prick again,” she grunts, her guess confirmed by the very obvious discomfort on your face, suddenly in a hurry when you try to get out of the house in one swift motion and save yourself from the cross-examining conversation that’s surely about to happen judging by the look in Aeri’s face.

“I gotta go-”

“What about all your ‘I don’t ever wanna see him again’ talk?” she sighs, clearly disappointed with your life choices.

“Look, it’s about the songs he’s been putting out. He’s being an ass about replying back to my messages and god knows I’m not calling him, or else he’d record it and put it in another song like the freak he is,” you squint your eyes at her, making sure your intentions are clear to your worried roommate.

“Oh, right, because he’s going out with you just to talk,” she mutters, “when all you two have done since you broke up is argue. Mhm, seems about correct,” Aeri adds, making the situation even worse than it already was, because she’s right, after all– when have the two of you held a normal conversation in the past few weeks? Seeing him tonight might just be the worst idea of your life– right after deciding to date him, of course– and you’re completely aware of the fact.

Opening your mouth to answer with a jarring comment meant to put your roommate back in her place, the words are taken off your tongue when you hear the ring of your phone, the notification on your screen flashing with his messages.

don’t pick up [8:04pm]: youre 5 mins late

don’t pick up [8:05pm]: come out

“Look, I gotta go. We’ll talk about this later,” you mumble as you take your bag off the hanger, Aeri’s disapproving eyes following you as you head towards the door.

“Right. Have fun,” she ironically sings, knowing very well what Kim Sunwoo’s intentions are for the night. Still, you fakely gag to her comment before you’re out the door and walking down the entryway.

As your figure walks out of the apartment complex, you almost don’t notice the man. You were expecting him to be waiting just behind the door, resting against the wall as he usually did back when you two were dating. The sight that meets your eye shocks you a little when you find him leaning against a 2007 Audi A4, the silver exterior of the car contrasting with the darkness of his clothes, hands folded on his chest as he watches you with an overly-confident smirk.

“Took you long enough,” he teases as you finally cut through the distance.

“Didn’t know you were so eager to see me,” you bite back, eyes scanning the vehicle. “Did you finally get a car with that new profession of yours? Or is that another one of your friend’s again?” you point towards the car, making the boy chuckle.

“Mine,” he says, “my ‘good-for-nothing career’ is taking off, as you may have noticed,” he hums, referencing all the arguments you two used to have about his dreams and ambitions, making you wince a little at the comment. You never believed in him ever making it big– you just didn’t think his dreams were ever really realistic– but judging by the way it’s been going for him, you must admit you may have been wrong with your snarky arguments before.

“Well, it’s not much, then,” you mutter instead, pretending to judge the state of his old, used-looking car.

“Gets the job done,” he shrugs as he peels himself off the door, opening the passenger side and sparing you a short glance. “Hop in?”

Sunwoo doesn’t wait for you to sit down so he can close the door after you– instead, he walks around the front of the car to the driver’s side, getting in himself– much to the gentleman he’s always been. Making sure you slam the door shut with as much force as you can, just to anger the man and his new toy, you fasten your seatbelt and watch as Sunwoo winces, but doesn’t mention it when he turns the engine on with a turn of the key and drives off the parking lot.

“Where are you taking me?” you ask, watching as the male snickers to himself. The calmness of his composure makes you oh so annoyed, making you despise every second spent together with him in the small space breathing in his cologne and listening to the songs playing through the speakers, reminding you of the playlist he’d always put on when he was given the privilege of the aux cord.

“What? Are you scared I’m gonna kill you?” Sunwoo jokes.

“Seeming that you’re batshit crazy, one can’t know what to expect from you nowadays,” you grunt, making him cheese with amusement.

“I thought I was just ‘a loser Soundcloud rapper that can’t do anything in life’,” he repeats to you a sentence you uttered out upon your breakup, the emotions getting the worst out of you after the way he’s been treating you. “Would a loser like me kill you? I don’t think so.”

“Very funny, Sunwoo,” you ironically bite back, rolling your eyes at his composure. The fact that he seemingly has the upper hand on you in the conversation makes you falter a little bit. “I just wanted to talk about the songs you’ve been putting out.”

“You wanted to tell me how much you like them? Thank you, I’m flattered–”

“No, you idiot. I wanted to talk to you about how uncomfortable they’re making me feel!” you yell out, making the male wince.

There’s a momentarily silence in the car as the male drives, the streetlamps disappearing out of sight as he drives away from the city, into more sparse areas. His voice is a little more serious when he speaks up now, the lack of teasing in his tone making shivers run down your spine. “I don’t think it’s that serious, really.”

“Really?” you chuckle. “Because I don’t find it fun when people stop me on the street and ask all about our relationship, Sunwoo. Because I don’t know if you noticed, but you never asked for my permission when you used those.”

The sound of your own voice resonates through your brain, the first voice message he ever used in one of his songs (the one that made him finally more popular, funnily enough) making you sigh out in the darkness of the car. ‘Just.. I dunno, I said sorry, I apologized, I don’t know what more you want me to do.. like, what’s going on? Literally nothing, so like.. can’t we just… move on from this and… fucking let it go?’

“One would think you’d stop sending me these after the first one,” Sunwoo utters out, voice low and almost a little amused, which makes you tip over the edge.

“And I would think you wouldn’t use audio of me being vulnerable with you in a fucking song that everyone would hear, Sunwoo!”

“Oh, did you mean that part where you called me a hypocrite for hanging out with my friends from high school without telling you? Or the part where you cursed me out after you broke up with me because I dared to text you again–”

“I was trying to pierce things back together!” you yell, making the male quiet down, resulting in taking a right turn towards a dead-end, the road approaching a forest. Not a single soul is to be found around here except the two of you, and when he turns the engine off, but stays staring ahead of him towards the trees, you continue with everything you’ve been holding inside of you– instead this time, your voice is more quiet, not having to scream over the sounds of the car anymore.

“I was apologizing. I was trying to make us work, Sunwoo. And just because you didn’t see it or didn’t have it in you to pay attention to me that night, it doesn’t give you the right to exploit me for your gain and make a fool out of me in front of everyone,” you say, watching as the male chews on the inside of his cheek.

“You are the one that broke up with me,” he says into the silence, “not the other way around.”

A moment of silence hangs over you two like a heavy jacket. You were well aware of the fact– you broke up with Sunwoo after the night he went out with all of his female friends from high school, not telling you a thing about it before you found out through an Instagram story of one of them. You knew he was being petty, you knew he was doing it just to get back at you– because you never passed out on a chance to make him feel jealous, getting back at him for all the controlling comments he would make whenever you went out to clubs with your girlfriends– but it still drove you up against the wall and made you break.

Maybe you and Sunwoo weren’t made for each other. There’s no denying that you loved each other– you just didn’t really know how to handle your relationship. You never really learned how to handle problems. How to resolve issues. Both of you were too immature for the other, and it would never work– you only came to this conclusion after many tear-filled evenings, but coming to peace with it is still yet to come.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant to this conversation,” you say, shaking your head in disbelief.

The male scoffs, turning his head towards you, meeting your eye. “Did you even listen to the songs?”

“Of course I did, how else would I know–”

“Then you must have noticed that I’m not making fun of you, or putting you on blast, or belittling you, or whatever you and your friends have said about me for the past month,” he counts on his fingers as he recites the words with an annoyed tone, big eyes bearing into yours.

“You exposed me being vulnerable.”

“I’m vulnerable in these too!” he urges out, eyebrows furrowing at you in exasperation.

“That’s your fucking choice! Don’t drag me into it!”

While you must admit that none of the lyrics Sunwoo’s ever written about you were lies, or making fun of you or throwing harsh words in your direction, you still feel as if a chunk of you has been thrown out in the open, for anyone to pick apart and poke around. You always told Sunwoo you liked his way with words, and there is no denying that his lyrics, although they were painfully honest, were quite beautiful. If you weren’t the one the songs were about, maybe you’d even like them. Maybe you could give them a listen without feeling like you want to crawl out of your skin. Maybe you could add them to your playlist without feeling ashamed that you’re still thinking about the male, picking apart your relationship like every outsider has been doing since the songs went viral, but instead, finding places where you could’ve done things differently and kept him by your side.

It was hard to listen to his words and see the reflections of your past flashing in front of your eyes like a movie. While you admit that he did the timeline of your relationship justice, you do despise the fact that his words are getting to you so much.

You don’t like hearing about the things you’ve done wrong. You don’t like listening to him apologize– although he would never do so directly. You don’t like to hear him say that he misses you, because it makes it hard for you to keep your fair distance from him.

“I don’t know what I was thinking… Can you drive me home, Sunwoo? We’re clearly not on the same page about this,” you say, averting your gaze from him towards the window.

“No.”

“Sunwoo, can you please drive me–”

“Not until we talk about this, no,” he says firmly, watching you foam over with fury.

“What else is there to talk about?”

“Us!”

“There’s no us anymore, Sunwoo! And I think it’s the time you come to terms with that and stop abusing our failed relationship for your stupid songs,” you bark, throwing daggers into his skull with your fierce eyes.

“So you get to go and post angry tweets and badmouth me in front of your friends, but when I cope in a perfectly respectful manner, it’s wrong?” he argues, scoffing and shaking his head at you.

“God, you’re unbelievable. You’re comparing two vastly different things–”

“Do you not like the songs because you feel exposed, or do you not like them because I’m saying exactly what you don’t want to hear?” he asks, eyes bearing into yours with such heaviness you feel like you could cut the tension with a knife.

“Like what? That you think I regret breaking up with you?” you scoff, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Why else would you pick a fight with me every time I call? Why pick it up at all?”

“Why do you call, then?” you challenge him, chewing on the bottom of your lip. The male leans closer to you, sparks dancing in his eyes when his voice resonates through the car like a low thunder, making the tips of your fingertips buzz and your heart beat faster.

“You know exactly why I call.”

“To make me angry and get me to scream at you?”

“If that means I get to talk to you,” he shrugs, a subtle grin overtaking his features, a churn of your stomach warning you of the dangerous area you just entered.

Eyes never breaking contact with his, relishing in the way his hungry gaze picks you apart, you attempt to conceal your true feelings with an annoyed comment. “This isn’t going anywhere,” you muse, “god, I never wanna see your face again.”

He clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth, teasing you. “That’s what you said last time,” he says, “so what are you doing in my car then, babydoll?”

The pet name makes your stomach drop, the lightness in your head coming back to you as you furrow your brows at the male, trying hard to come up with a smart remark. Your brain turns into liquid and there’s buzzing in your ears as you try to focus on staying calm and true to your best judgment, but the moment Sunwoo’s head leans even closer to your face, his words render you both speechless and thoughtless as he mutters a sentence that’s barely louder than a whisper, yet powerful enough to pull you in.

“Stop fighting me for once, will you?”

Your lips are pushed against his with force, the kiss mirroring the essence of being starved of each other for the past month. His plush lips move against yours with the skill that only a man you’ve spent tens and hundreds of nights kissing would acquire, his hand placed on your jaw to steady you, adjusting the pace of his kisses just the way you always liked it.

A force that’s greater than yourself brings you out of your seat and into the driver’s lap, giving the male better access to your throat as you settle comfortably under your newly acquired human chair. His strong thighs flex under you when you thread your fingers through his hair, bringing him back up to connect your lips together before he breathlessly pulls away, gazing at you with a boyish grin on his face.

“Why did we even break up again?” he jokes.

You reply to him with the same lightness of your tone, shrugging. “Because you were a jealous, possessive prick and I had a short temper that always egged you on?” you say, watching as the male pretends to ponder on the information, humming to himself.

“I think I can put that past me.”

“Can you?” you joke, tracing his cheekbone with your thumb, a sly smirk playing with your lips as you lean over him and press a firm, yet short peck to his swollen lips. “Or will you make another mediocre song about it?”

“Don’t call them mediocre,” he squints at you, eyes tracing your face when your hands slip further down his face to cradle his jaw, thumbs padding his lips.

“I easily outdid you on your own song, Kim Sunwoo.”

“That’s why I add you in, actually.”

“Really?” you snicker, tone full of fake disbelief. His hands hold your sides when you lean over the man and latch yourself to his neck, dragging out kisses up and down his warm skin. “Will you make a song for each of our arguments, then?”

Teeth scraping the skin of his throat, you find the male humming under you in pleasure and satisfaction. He has you right where he wanted you– and although this is not how you imagined the night to go, you don’t find yourself disappointed with the turn of events. The previous annoyance is still there, but now is shielded by the need in you, the longing for him you can’t really battle whenever he is around.

Settling deeper against his body, you feel the male slip one hand into your hair, tugging at the roots of your hair gently to bring your face back to his, averting your attention away from the love bites you’ve been placing on his skin.

“Unless you give me another topic to write about,” he suggests, his hungry lips swallowing your reply.

You and Sunwoo were never really good for each other. Too messy, too turbulent, but too consumed with the other to ever truly let go. Seeing him tonight surely wasn’t the best of your ideas– but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t silently hope the evening would turn out this way.

You and Sunwoo were never the ones to make good decisions when it came to the other one anyway. What’s one another badly calculated step in your relationship gonna do?

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mattphobiia · 7 months

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ok so... i was wondering if you could write a matt or chris smut where they are in the podcast studio with the reader (their gf) and thye try to not get caught

(please tag @mattsfavwh3re)

PODCAST.

disclaimer: heres some more smut AGAIN, im rlly treating you all right now😭😭 also this was suggested by @mattsfavwh3re so thank you!!! hope you enjoy this ml😛😛 also working on more requests so pls be patient🙏

₊˚⊹ ᰔ

the triplets and i all sat in our spots before nick began to set up the cameras to record as they all opened up todays video topic. i was sat next to matt with an extra microphone as they introduced me as their guest, matt's girlfriend. i waved over to one of the cameras before smiling as they all laugh, making me feel confused and nervous. did i do something wrong already?

"thats the wrong camera." matt whispered in my ear, making me freeze in embarrassment as i sigh. "don't worry about it, other guests make that mistake." his hand slowly reaches under the studio desk, resting onto my thigh before we all engaged in the topic.

meanwhile, his hand rubbed against me in slow circular motion as each movement of his moved further up until he was at my inner thigh, nearly making me choke mid sentence.

"are you good?" nick asked concerned while i reach over to grab my bottle of water, taking a quick sip before gaining my composure.

"yeah, let's continue-" i cut myself off when matt suddenly slips my underwear to the side while his index and middle finger hovered over my folds before spreading them apart, making me shudder at the sudden contact. one finger was now touching my clit directly as i bit my lip hard, nodding along to nick and chris while matt stayed quiet, trying to hide his smirk.

the tip of his finger now dragged along agonisingly slow as both now pressed against my clit and rubbed softly in slow circles. with no warning, he suddenly inserted his fingers inside me before slowly thrusting them in and out. my hand nearly flew under the desk as i tried to grab his wrist and pull him away, but his grip was stronger than mine. his leg hooked around mine under the desk as my legs were now forced to widen. i felt my whole body sweat as i felt my nerves rise higher and higher. my heart was practically pounding against my chest, nearly letting out a moan as i squeezed my eyes shut, resting my head against the cold surface of the table.

"guys! are you even paying attention? seriously, whatever you two are doing needs to stop." chris groans, rolling his eyes at us both while nick stops talking to look at us both.

"what even are you doing?" nick asks hesitantly, an unreadable expression on his face, but before i try to speak up, no words could come to my mind.

"she beens complaining that she doesn't feel well." matt adds in, feeling relief wash over me before i pull his hand away whilst he was distracted. "i think we should just have a break and continue later."

we both immediately got up from our places as i nearly rushed out of the room, matt following behind me while chris and nick glanced to each other across the room, giving confused looks. when i shut the studio door, i slapped matt on his arm, looking at him with a death stare.

"what was that?!" i yell, grabbing onto his shirt in frustration as i pull him closer to me. i wasn't actually mad, but it was just something you wouldn't usually expect from him.

"awh, am i not allowed to have fun?" he smirks, his hands now resting on my waist, pressing a small kiss to my lips.

"i didn't say that! just don't do that with your brothers there." i sigh, resting my head against his shoulder. "can we go relax now?"

he nods, beginning to interlock his fingers between mine while holding onto my hand gently, now walking away from the podcast studio as we make our way outside.

"i love you." matt smiles.

"i love you more, idiot."

MASTERLIST

a/n: i feel like this isnt my best fic but guys pls im so thankful for all ur reblogs, likes and the support🥹 thank you all so much i appreciate you SO MUCH, you motivated me so much and have gotten me through work (i hate my job), my account is slowly growing and im so happy people like my work! like i say, suggestions are open for anyone but just remember that i have my own personal life so it could take awhile for me to write yours. i do see all my requests! anyways, have a nice day all of you:)

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #matt x reader #chris x reader #nick x reader #sturniolo x reader

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rafecameroninterlude · 6 days

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https://www.tumblr.com/bunnirafe/762217744169091072/copying-other-writers-isnt-the-way-to-start-your

girl what is going on??

..this is what we’re not going to do. this isn’t acceptable whatsoever. below are pictures of side by side comparisons of what i messaged her about. the left is mine, the right is her’s. they speak for themselves.

i messaged her and kindly asked her if she could change the photos since they were too similar for her own rendition of bambi!reader. which i don’t claim to be mine by the way. the only thing that’s mine is the lore and personality for my !reader’s that i create specifically for each their own.

she said ok and changed the pictures. that’s all there is to it. i do have this account blocked because she followed me after i sent her a message and my account is 18+, but other than that, please do not send her any hate. at the end of the day, we’re all just here to read and/or write fanfiction.

since this is here though, i’ll just say this: please, please, please do not copy or make your moodboards, layouts, fics, etc.. similar to mine or any other writer’s. i can’t stress it enough how much thought and effort i put into my !reader’s and works in general just for it to be replicated. things like this are always being pointed out to me and i always hold my tongue but not anymore. i’ve posted about things of this nature before, and it’s also written in my pinned post that anyone who does this will be blocked.

#𝜗𝜚 ‧₊˚ ⊹ misc #outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey

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tuliptired · 2 months

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hi! ive read so many fics where egon's love interest is super smart and a scientist just like him but i kinda wanna reader the opposite at least once :') may i request an egon x reader where his s/o isnt super smart like him, doesnt have an interest in what he studies but is supportive, never went to college, and they're a high school drop out who got their GED through GED classes? maybe one day they're feeling self-conscious about their intelligence compared to him but he assures them that he loves them no matter what?

Please Stay with Your Own Kind (and I'll Stay with Mine)

Pairing: Egon Spengler/Gn!Reader

Warnings: Accidental cut while cooking (stay safe friends :[ )

Sorry this took ridiculously long, life caught up to me and I had to do this ask justice by unpacking all my junk from when I was struggling with school ( ╥ω╥ )

Better formatting on Ao3!!

You wiped your cheek with the heel of your hand, dust left in its wake. You pushed your couch back into place with a grunt, trying your best to tune out the noise coming from your kitchen table. Normally, if anyone barged in while you were trying to clean and insisted on using your apartment for experimentation, you’d be more than ticked off. But, you were used to it by now, especially at this point in your relationship with a certain atypical scientist. How could you resist him, when he7 was muttering something about elevation and better work environments?

They say cleaning is the best way to get rid of unwanted guests, but Egon was far from colloquial, only ever sneezing as you dusted the space around him. There were bolts and screws littered all over the wood, but you couldn’t bring yourself to mind. He was so busy lately, either at the firehouse or the university he had a fellowship with, that any visit was one to cherish. Even if it meant your centerpiece had to be relocated to the floor.

You stood, hands on your hips as none of your under-the-sink rummaging rewarded you with the little purple spray bottle you were looking for. “Egon?” You turned, the man zeroed in on the mechanism taking up such a small spot on the table.

He hummed, referring back to a large notebook without looking at you. “Could you check the bathroom for my window cleaner?”

Another hum as he kept working. This guy.

“Egon.”

He finally lifted his head, glasses slightly askew. “Right. Sorry.” he nodded once, before disappearing down the hall.

Your eyebrows twitched upwards as you let out a light sigh, peering down at the contraption delicately, like your gaze could shatter all of his hard work. It was barely the same size as your landline, appearing almost miniscule when in your significant other’s large hands. How could such a tiny thing hold so much of his attention? Or require all the other machinery and calculation around it? Upon further inspection you could see intricate wiring woven throughout its insides. You clicked your tongue. This was all beside you- or above you, if you were being honest. You supported Egon, you really did, but Egon was physics, electromagnetism, degrees and doctorates in studies you’d never even heard of. And here you were, worrying about which set of patterned throw pillows fit the season more.

The phone rang, stealing you from your moment of introspection, laced with contempt for whatever it was on your table. You took a breath before answering, voice uncertain about who would be calling so close to dinner. “Hello?”

“I’m calling from Columbia- Institute of Advanced Theoretical Research. Is Dr. Spengler around? This is one of the numbers he left for us.” The caller sounded boyish, and eager, rushing through his words.

You were a bit flattered at the idea of your line being an after-hours contact for him. “He’ll be just a second,” you apologized, leaning over to look into the darkness of the unlit hallway. Maybe you forgot to pick up another bottle at the store after all.

There was a staticky silence on the young man’s end, the excited murmur of voices when you picked up now lulled. You could hear him clear his throat before he spoke again. “If you don’t mind me assuming…you’re his partner, right?” he questioned.

“Oh! I am. He passes through here from time to time with work.” Your face heated up in such a silly way in spite of how long you’d been together.

Surprised murmuring. Did he have company? “That’s great! Dr. Spengler’s a pretty big deal around here,” he boasted enthusiastically.

“Is he?” you smiled to yourself. “I don’t doubt he’s a decent scientist.”

“Of course! We’re all admirers, here.” he gushed. “I dream of being half the scholar he is. Dozens of degrees, 2 doctorates- he’s essentially a genius.”

You shuffled on your feet, amused at his vigor, but reaching that part of conversations surrounding intelligence and tertiary education that prodded at a nastier version of yourself. “Don’t I know it.”

He continued. “We study his journals like they’re gospel. He’s made such big progress in paramagnotheric study that we’re here working for him like drones. Grateful drones.” The student took a pause for air. “That’s why I called- we have big news for him.”

“It’s great- that you’re all so dedicated,” you squinted back down the hall.

Another scratchy moment without words. “I’d be so embarrassed, if he heard me raving like this. What about you?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, Dr. Spengler must have pretty refined tastes. What’s your doctorate in?”

Your throat tightened as you involuntarily clenched your jaw. You really thought you were over this question. Where was Egon? You could live with printed-stained glass if he’d save you from the incoming conversation. You drew in another breath. “Didn’t get that far.”

“Oh! Sorry for assuming. Your master’s? We had bets on chemistry or neuroscience. Maggie had $20 on you being Dr. Abrams from engineering.”

Does he know that’s not a thing you say to a stranger? God, this was giving you a headache. “Only a GED,” you divulged painfully, snapping in speed but not in tone. What followed was what always followed, most frequently in the early days of your relationship. It was the stunned moment of disbelief from friends and family who knew your academic history. The lingering internal question of: “how’d they get with Einstein?”

“I see,” the caller finally stammered, most likely to be polite.

“Different things…it got away from me. If I could’ve, I would’ve,” you trailed off, not finishing your thought as you cringed at the idea of trying to explain your lack of a traditional diploma to someone who didn’t sound old enough to be far into their graduate schooling.

He cleared his throat. “I get it.” Did he? He’s got handfuls of degrees to add to his name. In the bitter respite of dead air, a venom uncoiled inside of you that was reserved to classmates in the gifted and talented program. But it wasn’t his fault, really. He was only a young adult going down the path that was open to him. And fangirling over your boyfriend, you thought to yourself as you wordlessly rewound it.

Finally, finally , Egon returned, with a clear liquid that wasn’t your window cleaner. But his presence didn’t make you feel any sort of reassurance. “Cladosporium growing in your grout. I made a fungicide for it.”

You furrowed your brows, pressing the phone into his chest and stalking off, leaving him to nearly drop the landline and whatever solution he was holding.

You resigned yourself to stewing in your misery and chopping carrots. You weren’t an exemplary chef, but you both needed to eat. Feelings that you’d be harboring in the back of yourself were boiling inside of you like oil, hotter than water. Egon appeared in the kitchen, having hung up.

“That was Lucas, from the university,” you heard behind you.

“I gathered.”

Egon must’ve failed to pick up on your tone. “He’s a bright young man. He manages the lab well when I’m gone.” You grabbed another vegetable before he settled at your side. “What’re you making?”

“Stew- rice- something. Could you get the stock out the fridge?” You cut awfully close to the tip of your pointer finger.

He tried handing it to you gently, and you grabbed it without looking, ducking into the cabinet by the oven for your measuring cup. Holding it up to the light, you cursed at the odd units of measurement. “ 15 fluid ounces,” you read the chipped red lettering, “how many cups-”

“1.87.” You didn’t turn to face him, letting a puff of air escape your nostrils. “Or 1.9,” he added quickly.

You poured it into the pot, steam rising into your face. Egon was quiet, until he leaned against the counter, taking up a much duller knife to help you get through all the vegetables before the broth burnt out. “About the mold in your bathroom,” he started. “I can remove it for you, but I’m worried about your respiratory health. Untreated fungi that you can see means untreated fungi that you can’t.” Wasn’t that reserved for roaches? Your skin crawled at the thought- of mold and an infestation. “Pathogenic diseases from mold are nothing to play around with.”

“It’s fine,” you uttered, checking on a pot of rice, fingers carefully holding onto the protected part of the hot metal handle.

“Killing it? I have sodium bicarbonate and trisodium phosphate back at the firehouse, it’ll only take-”

You grip the wooden spoon in your hand tightly, nails digging into the flesh of your palm. “No, I mean- don’t do anything! To my bathroom. Or my house. Please.” you nearly pleaded, shutting your eyes and stirring the contents of your dinner.

Egon complied, wordlessly giving you a bit of space as he added the last potato. You chewed your lip.

“You usually ask for all the details from school.” his voice was barely audible.

A deep weight settled in your stomach. “It slipped my mind.” You spotted a bundle of thyme that never made it in, mindlessly plucking it from the countertop and going back to chopping. “What happened?” you breathed out.

His eyes were on you. “They’re making good strides. Lots of excitement, since they got the cells they engineered to detect psychokinetic energy in electromagnetic conditions. I don’t like leaving them alone, but this was nowhere near an actual challenge- it’s simple trigonometry.” Any other day, the “respected professor” thing would be hot. If you weren’t so focused on finely dicing the herb, you’d have seen his smirk to himself. “They were so happy- to get through the easier part of research.”

“Shit,” you hissed. The knife must’ve slipped, probably from how tense your hands were, or how thin you were slicing, or from how your vision clouded with tears of frustration. Regardless, it nicked into your flesh, quickly drawing blood. You brought the junction between thumb and pointer finger to your lips, before Egon seized your wrist.

Egon herded you to the sink instead, his talk of “700 different types of bacteria” and “immunocompromised from mold inhalation” lost on you. You drew your wet hand back, lifting both to your eyes, now squeezed shut as you turned away. This whole thing was so, so stupid. It had been so long, and you still felt so angry. The outside world was tuned out from the rushing of water out of the faucet, until Egon’s voice broke through, even if it sounded far- as if he was on the other side of your apartment.

“I’m sorry. You’re upset, and I don’t know how to help you.”

A quivering air left you after you shut the sink off. He didn’t deserve your bad mood- or years worth of a bad mood. If you weren’t mad at the boy over the phone, or Egon, the only person left to scorn was yourself. Your vexation crumpled inward, turning into sadness. Self-pity. Resentment. Guilt.

A thick swallow. “No- I’m sorry that I’ve been short with you today. It’s just- I’m- I don’t-”

Egon’s hands were guiding you to your table before you could break. In between joining you in the kitchen and taking the phone, he must’ve packed up what was left of the work he brought over, something you silently thanked him for. You sat in silence, not knowing how long you must’ve taken to steady your breathing and clear your head. Regardless, he sat with you the entire time, never once pushing you as his hand rested in yours, thumb laid clinically over your pulse point. He’s a creature of habit.

You looked to him, eyes a tinge red. “We’re getting older.” You lifted your gaze fondly to a familiar notch in between his eyebrows. It was only faint, something you’d teased him about because of his lack of efforts to stop or delay aging, but it wasn’t always there. “Much, much older.” Egon’s expression was neutral, something that brought you comfort when it should’ve worried you. “I admire you. So much. And so does everyone else- which you deserve. You’ve worked so hard, for so long, and you’re somebody, Dr. Spengler .” You gave him a weak smile that melted away as you blinked . “ And I’m awful for thinking it, awful for feeling it, but you don’t deserve an idiot who couldn’t even make it to graduation.” Hot tears gathered in your eyes again as your voice was shaky. “I’m holding you back from something bigger.”

His face was softer. “And, I feel like garbage. Utter and complete garbage because so much has happened since then and it still feels like I failed.” You could remember the first time Egon urged you to let him know how you felt, after every confession of unpleasant feelings felt like an unbalanced apology. He was allowing you to feel, without guilt. “It’s this nagging and incessant idea that I’m nothing.” You let your chest fall and rise. “Dr. Abrams wouldn’t do this.” a pitiful attempt at a joke.

The ghost of amusement. His thumb gently caressed your pulse point, the heartbeat that was once in your throat resigned back to being a dull throb in your chest. He took a moment before speaking, voice small. “It’s not untrue that I value education.” Egon’s eyes rose to your own. “But I’d be closer to an idiot than you’ll ever be if I valued it over you, and your presence in my life.”

“I’m sorry if I failed to notice how you’ve been feeling.” Egon took your other hand, the one that laid limply on the tabletop. “Do you think I’d be with anyone else just because they had a doctorate? A PhD?”

You shook your head, growing red under his sudden passion. “Egon, I-”

“It doesn’t matter to me, because they wouldn’t be you. You are so much more than an abbreviation.” Tears flowed freely from your eyes, and he gently wiped them away every time, hands cradling your wet cheeks. “Besides. Dr. Abrams isn’t half as interesting as you are.”

Egon smiled at you, eyes crinkling as you returned it.

There was a hiss of smoke from the kitchen that made him flinch, the threat of fire making you scramble back to the stove. As you cut the heat, you winced at the sight of liquid and vegetables burnt black and stuck to the bottom of the pot.

“Ah, man. I’m sorry,” you frowned, switching on the fan.

“Things get away from us,” Egon held your shoulders, smiling as he pressed a kiss into your hair.

#egon spengler #ghostbusters 1989 #ghostbusters 1984 #egon spengler/reader #egon spengler x reader #egon/reader #egon x reader #oneshot #fanfic #ao3 author #ao3 writer #ao3 link #open requests #ask box

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