#Sometimes you just have moles everywhere

[mewvore]

cat have freckles on her butt.....

Thats just the way it be...

[teddybeartoji]

i love stretch marks so fucking much they're so fucking pretty

[iwakuraz]

mlp is great but it scares me whenever the ponies wear roller skates on all four of their hooves. do they realise that's not safe :[

[risuola]

FEELIN' LUCKY || GETO SUGURU

Suguru has a reputation of a playboy — and rightfully so. He likes to change girls, bedding them as he pleases. He thinks he can have them all. He's a player, a red flag and you show him he's wrong. It's a story about a boy who has everything but craves to have you.

contains: frat boy!suguru x nerdy!reader, pining, maybe a little slowburn-ish, flirting, smut (unprotected sex, some body worship, mentions of hooking up, booty calls, sexting), wc. 9420 ⋯ reader discretion is advised

kinktober '24 masterlist || art in the header: @/chu-cho on tumblr

Suguru knows how to navigate around the campus. He’s tried all the shortcuts, been on all the parties, talked (and fought) with all the teachers. He’s known around — troublemaker, a frat boy, a heartbreaker. It’s no news to anyone that Suguru Geto is a red flag personified; a ladies’ man, playing with every beauty he deems worthy of attention. And he’s lucky too, girls tend to love him, all of them. After all, bad girls love bad boys and good girls, unfortunately, do too. He’s a flame that attracts all the moths, a sin that tempts and renders every heart helpless. He’s a siren song luring women towards their doom. The ultimate playboy, reveling in the attention he gets everywhere he shows up, soaking it up like a cat basking in the sun.

It’s unfair, he jokes sometimes, when he aims to add another notch to his bedpost. Unfair how easy it is for him to have what he wants, how all that meets his gaze is heart-eyes and flushed cheeks. But he likes it, he likes to take, he likes to be wanted and pick from the crowd. It boosts his ego. He is, after all, drop dead gorgeous. He is, truly, with his long, raven hair and purple glint to his eyes, all surrounded by an air of sexy danger coming from his piercings, his clothes and the way he acts.

“Who’s that?” He wonders, mind rushing through the extensive catalogue of female students he knows. “She’s new.” Clearly. He doesn’t know you yet.

You’re pretty, too pretty for him to let you go just like that. You came to the party at the frat house, but you don’t seem to fit right in. Maybe you’re a transfer student? Or a friend of someone? It doesn’t look like you’re someone’s girlfriend. A man that’s sane would not let you wander around such place alone. Not in that dress. You’re gorgeous, breathtaking. You make Suguru’s heart beat a little bit faster, his pulse quickening and he can hear it in his ears, a steady thump echoing over the sound of music. It’s excitement — something he has not felt in a long time.

His friends say something. He’s not listening, eyes laser focused on you and only you. You move with grace, your hips sway from side to side like a pendulum as you find your way through the crowded living room. Your cup is empty, it’s clear from the way you tap it with your fingernail every time someone tries to stop you — you’re pointing on it, gesturing your intentions as you try to speak over the loud music and blurring chatter. You seem polite too, the way you smile brightens the area. He likes how it reaches your eyes, how your nose scrunches a little and the skin near your temples crinkle. Everything about you is hypnotizing, you know what you’re doing. You have to know what you’re doing. You’re magnetic and he wouldn’t be able to resist even if he wanted to.

He doesn’t.

You push through the crowd and Suguru follows, a predator stalking its prey. You are, after all, like a sweet little rabbit tonight. His eyes never leave your back, watching the way your hair sways and bounces with each step you take, how the fabric of your dress hugs your delectable curves. You look soft, he’d love to touch you, to squeeze those plush thighs, to feel the pliable flesh of your rear, to have your chest squeezed against the hard planes of his muscular torso. He wonders how soft your skin is under the fabric, if it’s smooth and warm to touch. He wants to find out, to explore every inch of it until he maps out every mole, scar and birthmark. He licks his lips subconsciously, his tongue swiping over the piercing in his lower lip and he wonders if you’d like it — if the cold metal decorating his mouth would be something you’re into.

He catches you in the kitchen. You’re holding a can of strawberry flavored soda and looking around, and he knows what you’re searching for. “Hey there, beautiful,” he greets smoothly, flashing you a smile that’s known for making girls weak in the knees. “Allow me,” he reaches, taking the cold metal from your hands — his fingers brush against yours as your eyes met, the touch lingering a little longer than necessary but he’s content as he swiftly opens the can for you, earning himself a chuckle.

He’s already got you.

“Thank you,” you smile, taking the drink back and filling your cup with the pinkish liquid. It smells sweet, the delicate aroma of artificial fruit breaking through the typical mixture of sweat and alcohol that fills the room. It’s refreshing, the scent, the look of bubbles dancing at the edges of your cup. You take a sip, tasting the flavor on your tongue and he wants to try it too. From your lips, preferably. Those glistening, cherry-colored lips. Oh, you look delectable.

“I’m Suguru,” he grins again, his eyes scanning your breathtaking features and committing the picture to memory. “I don’t think we’ve met before.” He already envisions you below him.

“I doubt that too,” you nod and you know he’s attracted to you. It’s clear from the way he looks at you, eats you with his eyes only. Obvious from how his gaze lingers on your lips a little longer than he should but you allow him. You introduce himself too and he repeats, testing the name on his tongue.

“What brings a gorgeous woman like you to our little shindig?” He extends his hand out to shake yours, his thumb brushing over your delicate skin as his touch lingers.

“I got invited by one of my friends but I can’t seem to find her in this crowd. I’m sure she’s having fun somewhere though, it’s alright,” you explain, briefly looking over the students crowded in the main area of the house. Most of them are drunk already despite the quite early hour but you don’t mind it. A frat party is exactly what you expected it to be. “I wouldn’t honestly dare to call this a little shindig.”

Suguru chuckles lowly, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Well, I suppose ‘little’ was an understatement,” he grins and sips on his own drink. “How do you like it so far? Do you enjoy the mingling masses and blasting music or maybe I could steal you away? My room is just upstairs.” His eyes flick down to your lips once more before meeting your gaze again, a hint of mischief dancing in their violet depths. One step closer and he’s invading your personal space just slightly. “Because I could show you a good time, if you’d like. Just the two of us, away from all that noise and chaos,” he finishes a little quieter, a little lower. His tone is meant to seduce, to tempt you and he knows it always works. In his mind, he’s already alone with you, he imagines tracing your curves as he trails kisses along your jawline. His touch feels electric against your skin and you have to give him that — he sure does know how to get the attention he wants.

“I appreciate the offer, but I came here for the noise and the chaos,” you reply, smiling as your hand finds his wrist in a gentle caress meant to put some distance between his fingertips and your skin. “It’s not every day I get to attend a party such as this one,” that said, you’re ready to retract when his free hand meets the curve of your hip. You hear a hum and he’s suddenly much closer, you feel his breath on your lips, a mixture of mint and something strongly alcoholic. A little sweet too. A coke, maybe. There’s warmth bouncing off of him, one that you feel tingling on your skin when he leans down to meet your height. The tip of his nose teases yours before it moves to the side, running over the lines of your cheekbone.

“Are you sure?” He asks, smirking as he waits for your resolve to crumble. Not a single girl before you had resisted his charms and you surely are not going to be the first. He enjoys the challenge you present. Most girls would have melted under his touch but you remain composed. He likes that. He likes a woman who knows what she wants. “We could make our own noise, create our own chaos.”

“I’m content with all that’s happening here,” you hum, slipping out of his embrace. “Thank you for the company, Suguru. It was nice to meet you,” and you’re gone.

He stands there, dumbfounded. He stands there, once more looking at your back and he cannot believe what happened. A bunny that slipped from the hands of a wolf, girl that rejected Suguru’s charms, A moth that said no to the flames of his lust. A challenge he’s not going to pass on.

He smirks.

Before, he just wanted to have you.

Now, he has to have you.

And he will do whatever it takes.

Over the next weeks, Suguru has not given up. He hasn’t been able to get you out of his head, his interest in you hasn’t diminished; if anything, it’s grown stronger with each passing day. He’s determined to unravel the enigma that is you, to uncover the secrets hidden behind your captivating eyes and sweet smile. There’s something about you that made him desperate. A mystery he cannot quite unravel, a puzzle he can’t solve. And he thinks of you. He finds himself lost in thoughts of you more often than he’d care to admit. He spots you around campus occasionally, always looking effortlessly stunning and each time, he feels that familiar pull, that undeniable attraction that draws him to you.

Maybe it’s him, who’s the moth.

He doesn’t like this. How you always brush his advances off, how sweetly you smile while doing so. Every time he wants to touch you, you slip right through his fingers. You have tainted him with longing he has never felt before, you ruined him. He doesn’t want other women anymore, the line of booty-calls and flings blocked and removed from his phone. The nights he spends thinking of you, fucking his fist and swearing to all gods above and below to change, asking for a chance to sink his teeth into you. Because he doesn’t want anyone else. And he doesn’t know what you have done to him.

“Fancy seeing you there,” he remarks, settling himself beside you on the bench outside the library. The afternoon is particularly sunny, warmth caressing your skin as you sit comfortably, engrossed in a book. “Mind if I join you?” He asks, but he doesn’t wait for the response, as he leans over to glance at the title of your read. “Ah, philosophy. A deep thinker, huh? I like that.”

“Do you?” You ask, nudging a bookmark between the pages. “You don’t strike me as a philosophical type. You seem to me more of a live-in-the-moment kinda guy.”

He chuckles. “You’d be surprised,” he replies, his tone light and teasing, “there’s more to me than just good looks and undeniable charm. Although, I won’t deny that those are pretty great assets,” he winks playfully. Suguru leans back on the bench, stretching his long legs out in front of him. The ripped, black denim exposes a bit of his thigh, the ink of his tattoos peeking through the dark threads, drawing your attention.

“Oh, the confidence. It’s much more valuable trait than the outside looks,” you hum, leaning against the backrest too.

Geto laughs, a rich, warm sound that carries easily in the quiet outdoor setting. Then, he turns to face you fully, his expression turning serious for a moment. “But you’re right, I’m not usually one for heavy books and deep discussions. I prefer to keep things light and fun.” It’s a confession, he admits to it with a hint of vulnerability that’s quickly pushed behind his typical grin. “Besides, a guy can learn a thing or two from a smart, beautiful woman like yourself.” He flirts, but there’s an underlying sincerity to his words. He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Tell me, what’s so captivating about this particular tome? What insights does it hold to have captured your attention so thoroughly?”

“It’s a tale of a man discovering what really matters in modern life, a story of loss and reconciliation. The narrator, whose days are counted due to sudden diagnosis, meets the Devil who offers him an extra day of life in exchange of making one thing in the world disappear,” you explain briefly and he watches your fingers dancing over the front cover of the book, tracing the lines of the simple graphic of a cat. “There comes the question, how do you separate out what you can do without from what you hold dear? I think it’s something we don’t pay much attention to in our lives because we have everything within reach, but what if something just… disappeared? The narrator has to take responsibility for each one of his decisions. There’s no going back, there never will be, once a thing is gone, it’s gone.”

Suguru listens intently, his expression thoughtful as he absorbs your words. “That’s quite… It makes you think, doesn’t it?” He muses, nodding slowly. “It makes you wonder what you’d choose to erase if given a chance to live just a day longer.”

“The question of how to decide what’s okay to remove and what’s not is what makes me think the most,” you look up. The day is beautiful today, fluffy clouds travel sparsely over the azure blue sky, the sun warms your skin with its golden rays and the birds sing, hidden within the crowns of the nearby trees. You hear some chatter, somewhere from the distance where other students pass by, you hear the cars that honk impatiently as they stand in the traffic and you hear a dog barking. There’s a park not far away. “Some things that are insignificant to me might be the entire world to someone else.”

“So you think the burden of consequences might outweigh the price of life itself,” he notes, his eyes studying the lines of your profile. Your eyes, reflecting the blue of the sky, your cheeks flushed from the wind and sunrays. He thinks the color of your scarf makes your complexion looks brighter. “I don’t know if I would be capable of eradicating something from the world permanently. At first, I thought it might be easy, just get rid of something small and simple, but then it made me wonder if things I think are unimportant, truly are so.”

Truth is, Suguru doesn’t think he would dwell much about the topic if not you, but he wonders what if. What if he made a decision that would cause a war? Or someone else’s loss? What if a thing that he picks results in him not meeting you?

“That’s what philosophy does to you,” you chuckle, turning your gaze back to him, just to meet his eyes glued to yourself.

“But maybe that’s what makes life worth living,” he turns to you fully, his eyes wondering as he drops his usual playfulness and mischief. “It’s much easier to pretend we have control over our lives and the world around us rather than confront the harsh truth that we are all just tiny cogs in a vas, unpredictable machine. But maybe it’s the uncertainty, the constant surprises, the knowledge that anything can change in an instant what makes the journey worth the effort.”

“Maybe it is,” you nod, taking a moment to let his words sink in. “I wouldn’t expect you to engage in topics such as this. I apologize,” you offer a smile and he melts.

“You know, most people assume I’m just a pretty face. They don’t expect me to have substance beneath the surface,” he muses, his expression turning thoughtful before he lets out a breathy chuckle. “I guess I do give them the reasons to do so. But I really enjoy talking to you. It’s nice to have conversations that aren’t just surface-level flirting and innuendos. There’s just something about you...” He trails off, reaching out tentatively, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger against your skin for a moment before falling away. “I like how you challenge me, make me think deeper than I usually do. You are a puzzle I can’t wait to solve.” His gaze locks with yours, his expression open and vulnerable in a way you haven’t seen from him before. “Can I see you again? Like this, I mean. Just talking, getting to know each other better.”

The question hangs heavy in the air as you consider it. You will meet him again, one way or another, somewhere around the campus or at another frat party. You will see him again as he targets another girl, flirting his way into another pair of panties. And you exhale, your lips curving upwards slightly as you lean your head on your fist, elbow on your knee.

“Suguru,” you begin, his name slipping over your tongue with ease you enjoy. But you know better than this. You have seen it all too well how he treats women. “I enjoy conversing with you and if it’s just talk that you want from me, then I will find time to meet you again. But I need you to know that I will not allow myself to be another notch on your bedpost. It’s easy to get swayed by your charms, but I know your reputation and I know it for sure that if I had to give up one thing in the world, it would never be self-respect.”

And he knows for sure that if he had to give up romance for the rest of his life just to have you, he wouldn’t think twice about it.

“I don’t want to charm my way between your legs,” he swears, too quickly, too desperate to make himself believable and he groans, annoyed by his own self. He nervously runs his hand through his dark, raven hair. “Just, please, give me a chance. I won’t lie to your face and say that I’m suddenly ready to settle down or that I’m done sowing my wild oats entirely. I know what kind of reputation I have and I can’t deny that I’ve played the field more times than I can count. I’ve earned it fair and square,” he admits, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness. All of the lustful nights flashed before his eyes, the nameless girls, the empty promises and unanswered calls afterwards. All the nudes, all the sexts, all the quickies in the locker rooms and dingy bathrooms. Suguru would give them all away if only earned a chance to be with you. “I want to change. I already started to change. You don’t have to believe me right away, but you are different. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew there was something special about you. And I won’t lie that I’m not attracted to you physically. That would be impossible. But there’s more to it than that. Something worth pursuing beyond just a one-night stand.”

“And what change are you talking about?” You quiz. “Because as far as I am concerned, I’ve seen you flirting with some girls just yesterday.”

And he winces, unable to deny your accusation. “You’re right, I did flirt with them. It’s become a second nature to me, a habit I can’t seem to break easily.” He sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair once more, frustrated. “But it didn’t go further than talk. I didn’t… I’ve stopped sleeping around. I blocked and removed all the girls’ numbers from my phone, deleted the pictures I had. Fuck, I even declined an invitation for a party with my pals, for the first time since high school. Look,” he leans in, his eyes locked with yours and his hand finds yours. You feel his thumb rubbing soft circles on your knuckles and you wonder if it’s to soothe you or himself. “Being with you, talking to you… it’s opened my eyes to what I have been missing out on. I’ve spent so long chasing meaningless encounters, never allowing myself to form real connections with anyone and now, I’ve tasted something more substantial and realized just how hollow my previous pursuits have been. I want to do better. For you, yes, but also for myself. I want to prove to you that I’m capable of more than just cheap thrills and empty promises.”

It’s true, everything he says. He is ready to drop the player mask, to shed his frat repute just to have a chance at something real, something that makes his heart flutter in his chest and his stomach bubble with butterflies. He is ready to say no to easy sex just to fight for your attention, your touch, your heart.

He is genuine, but you just hum, your expression unreadable as you weigh your next words. You like him desperate. You like how his violet eyes sparkle with puppy-like vulnerability rather than a flirty mischief. And he is beautiful, you cannot deny it — a man of impressive built, clad in ripped jeans and leather, heavy boots and a band tee. He looks like he bites, and you know he does. You take in the sight of his piercings, the large gauges, the snake bites in his lower lip, the piercing across the bridge of his nose, right between his captivating eyes and the one right above his left brow. You wonder what kissing him would feel like. Would the metal come in the way? Or maybe it would add to the experience?

“I’m not sure what to tell you,” you sigh. “I will give you a chance if you think you can change. But you’ll need to prove it. Think about it.”

And he did.

The lonely nights he spends at the frat house, laying in bed instead of partying with his friends, he wonders where the path of his change will lead him. What if it’s him, confronting the devil and having a chance to lose himself just to earn a day with you? He thinks he’d take it. He’s sure he would. He flips on the mattress, his eyes squinting as the lights from his phone blinded him with a new message. An unknown number. He opens it, it’s a picture, a bare body that he recognizes by the butterfly tattoo on the ribcage. A nude from one of his exes. She must have gotten a new number because he remembers vividly how he blocked her. Usually, he wouldn’t think twice about it, he’d reply with something cheeky, possibly send an explicit picture of himself, maybe set up a meeting or invite her over. His fingers typed the message before his brain managed to intervene and once he hit ‘send’, he cursed out loud.

“Fuck, you idiot!”

A pillow flew across the room as he stared at the ceiling. Would it hurt to go once more with no strings attached? It’s been some time since he’s gotten laid and the vision of tension coming off of him was a temptation beyond measure. But what about you? What about a change he had promised?

Is the change even for him?

Suguru stares at his phone screen, the message he sent glowing mockingly back at him, a shameful reminder of his weak self-restraint. The girl already replied, they always reply so fast, and he doesn’t know what to do. He knows he fucked up, he knows he shouldn’t have responded. He shouldn’t have even entertained the idea of hooking up with his ex, or any other girl. It goes against everything he told you, everything he promised.

With a heavy sigh, he tosses his phone aside, despite the notifications flooding his inbox. More pictures, the location, the time — an annoying ding makes his blood boil and he groans, burying his face in his hands. He feels conflicted, torn between his desire for physical release and growing feelings for you. He wants to be better, to be the man you deserve, to be the man that deserves you. He wants to prove to you that he’s serious about changing, but old habits die hard. The temptation is still there, lurking in the shadows of his mind, waiting for a split second of vulnerability.

He tosses and turns in bed. His thoughts race with the pictures of you, his mind replaying every conversation, every shared laugh and stolen touch. He remembers the way your eyes sparkled when you discussed philosophy, the passion in your voice as you told him about the importance of self-respect. He realizes that those moments were more fulfilling than any other fleeting pleasure he’s experienced before.

But he gets up anyway, he pulls up his dark-washed jeans and a hoodie, socks and boots and he’s ready to go. With a jacket grabbed in the hallway and a phone in his hand, he leaves the house. The crisp air of near winter hits him the moment he steps outside, cooling the blood in his veins and clearing his thoughts.

12 unread messages.

He groans again, this time into the nightly silence as he strides through the pavement, legs leading him in the direction of his doom. Suguru slips the earphones in, plays on the music but the melody and lyrics are helpless against the chaos in his mind.

It’s pointless, to resist his own body. He knows it’s pointless, he knows he has control over his legs and deep down he knows he would reject the booty call if he truly wanted. You deserve a better man anyway, not a player that fucks around like it’s a sport. You deserve someone who would worship the ground you walk on, a man of culture and manners with whom you’d engage in long, deep conversations late in the evenings, not a man-boy who cannot control his own dick. But fuck, does he wants you.

He wants you so bad, he wants to be all those things for you. He wants those discussions about philosophy and life, he wants to kiss your knuckles and be the knight in the shining armor, carrying you in his arms and shielding you from the world and assholes such as himself.

He lights up the cigarette, taking a deep breath in and looking up. The night is pretty. Calm. He wonders if you are already sleeping. Or maybe it’s one of those nights that you pull in order to study and secure your grades. The semester just began but he learned it already that you care about your future more than he does about his own. You’re a little nerdy. He thinks it’s cute. He can imagine himself wrapping a blanket around your shoulders when it’s late and carrying you to bed when you’re falling asleep on top of the books and notes. You would fit perfectly in his arms.

“You fucking moron,” he slanders himself quietly, already seeing the motel in front of him. He shouldn’t be there but he moves forward anyway. He knows his ex is already waiting for him, he can tell by the lights in the room they always used to book for the casual encounters. He stops before he enters, giving the smoke few more moments to burn. He can feel it in his lungs, somehow calming as he checks his phone, scrolling through the notifications.

One of the messages is from you.

It’s innocent in the sea of suggestive texts. There’s an apology for the late hour and a book title that you promised to send him a day before. The one you’ve been reading for the last few days and the one that made him rethink his entire life’s choices. There’s not much substance in the message, but it shakes him awake.

The turn he takes is aggressive, it’s resolute. Heavy boots thudding against the concrete panels as he walks away from the motel. ‘Sorry, not coming.’ He sends the message and blocks the number, feeling lighter the second he removes the nude picture and the unwanted contact.

It takes just an hour before he knocks at your door, the dormitory silent in the nightly time so he keeps himself quiet. You open after a long moment, dressed in a make-shift pajama. He likes the way your hair is messy from the pillows, how you smell like vanilla and flowers and coffee. You look so pretty like this, so undone, so unexpecting yet not entirely disappointed to see him. You seem… content?

“Suguru?” His name comes from your mouth and you usher him inside, afraid of someone seeing him. Once the doors shut behind him, your eyes search him for answers.

“Brought you some food, I thought you might need it,” he grinned, showing off the box of pizza and a bottle of soda. “I figured you’re studying tonight and might need some fuel.”

“So thoughtful,” you tease, but the smile that shapes your mouth reaches your eyes, so he knows it’s genuine. He follows you to your bedroom and he’s not surprised seeing the notes all over your bed and scattered on the floor. The papers full of sparsely highlighted knowledge that you want to transfer into your brain take most of the space before you gather them onto a neat pile. He sits right there, on the newly uncovered spot on your mattress. It feels intimate, to be in your room, to rest on your bed, to see you in your pajama. He wonders if you know what the sight of your thighs does to him, the plush, tender flesh begging to be touched, kissed and kneaded. Suguru thinks your skin would look beautiful with bitemarks all over.

“So, pizza,” he clears his throat after letting his eyes linger for way too long on your bare legs. “I took pepperoni, I hope you like it.”

“It’s perfect,” you smile and separate the barely cut pieces for easier access. “I appreciate the thought, really. But there was no need for you to leave the house just to do this.”

“For you, I would do it at every hour,” he says and then sighs deeply. “But truth is, I didn’t plan this.” Suguru feels like he’s inside the confessional. It’s a foreign tension, completely different from the one he felt just hour before. The knot in his stomach has nothing to do with lust and desire and all to do with stress and regret. “I’ve received a booty-call from my ex. That’s why I left the house,” he spats it out quickly, thinking it’ll hurt less if he does it in rush. “I didn’t go there though. I told her I’m not coming, blocked the number and came here instead.”

You stay neutral, chewing on the pizza as your tired eyes size him up. “Old habits die hard, huh?” You mock, slightly amused by his tormented expression. His eyebrow creases before he lets himself drop back onto the mattress, a soft grunt escaping his mouth as he covers his face with his hands.

“I meant it. I want to change and I’m working on it.” He says, his voice quiet and devoid of his usual cheekiness. “I fucked up when I entertained the idea of hooking up with a random person tonight but cut me some slack, I didn’t do it.”

 “Good boy,” you mock-praise and he groans again, but then his entire body tenses when you lay next to him. He feels your breath against his cheek, the tip of your nose prodding the flesh. He doesn’t move, too afraid to ruin the moment. “Do you regret it? Not going, I mean. Be honest, don’t say what I want to hear.”

“I don’t,” he replies, his tone resolute. “I don’t regret not meeting my ex and not having sex tonight. I was pent up — fuck me, I still am, and when I replied to her text, I didn’t think much about anything except for my dick. But I don’t regret not going because I didn’t want to go. And I’m grateful that you texted me because you reminded me what really is important. Right now, it’s you.”

It makes you smile. He’s torn inside of his mind but you take it as a win anyway. Before, Suguru wouldn’t second-guess pulling his pants down and now you made him think. Now, you made him reconsider; wonder who he is without the façade of the charismatic ladies’ man. He will have to learn to navigate social situations without relying solely on his charm and wit to get what he wants. But he can do this. For you.

Before he speaks again, you’re asleep already. Sideways on the bed, most likely uncomfortable but right next to him and he doesn’t dare to move a muscle in his body. You’re sleeping, your face just an inch from his own. The soft fragrance of your skin fills in his nostrils and not even the smell of pizza nearby can disturb it. There’s a hair somewhere around his face, he doesn’t know if it’s yours or his own, but it tickles his cheek every time you exhale. It’s fine.

An hour passes and he finally gathers the courage to shift, as carefully as he can, he turns to his side, to face you. You’re a vision he takes in with his eyes wide open, committing the picture of your peaceful expression to memory. He likes everything about you, every hair of your eyebrows, every freckle and beauty mark. He likes the way you look so unbothered, so comfortable next to him. He wants to touch you. Oh, how much he craves to caress your cheek, to thread his fingers through your hair. His heart thumps in his chest, reaching speeds matching those of sprinters. The feeling is foreign. Is this…? It cannot be. Suguru Geto is not about… that. His entire life he believed he’s meant to have fun, no strings attached, no responsibilities. What did you do to him?

You move and he stops breathing. It’s an instinct, he thinks, that you shift closer to him, but he tells himself you want that. And you fit so well against his chest, your head below his chin, your hand around his middle. The room spins and he wraps you in the embrace of his arms.

He feels your heartbeat, the gentle rise and fall of your breathing and suddenly, he calms down. It sinks into his mind that it’s where he wants to be. All the years of empty flings, the mediocre orgasms, the shameless pursuits could never compare to the feeling of you in his arms. That’s what he has been missing on. And he will do everything to be the man deserving of you.

Time passes, and Suguru slowly falls into the rhythm of his newfound resolve. It’s easy to decline hookup invitations when he can spend time with you, but maybe he did feel a little too confident when he decided to attend the big, annual party at the frat house. It’s Halloween, after all, how could he not go there when everyone will come? Quickly he falls into familiar routine of charms and alcohol, nursing a beer from a red plastic cup and chatting playfully with attractive attendees. His friends push him towards temptation, inviting more and more girls to the crowd and Suguru feels drawn to the lively atmosphere, the flirtatious banter comes as easy as breathing.

That is, before a pretty sophomore dressed in a devil costume takes a seat next to him — a seat he has kept for you, because you promised you’ll come, despite the need to study. It’s fine if the girl sits there for a moment or two, he thinks, as he engages in a conversation. He knows, it’s as obvious as day, that the second-year beauty is interested in getting into his pants — her hand on his thigh, the fluttering eyelashes and pouty lips say everything about her intentions. As the night progresses, he finds himself more and more… uncomfortable. Surprisingly.

And so, he feels relieved when he sees you in the crowd, late but looking absolutely adorable in your sweet bunny costume. It’s simple yet makes his pants grow tighter as he takes in the way the plain black dress hugs your curves. The fluffy tail bounces with each step you take through the filled living area and the long, pink-lined ears swing just slightly along with your hair whenever you move your head around, looking for something — for him and his heart skips a beat. In that moment, everything fades away — the raucous laughter, the pulsing music, even the sophomore girl next to him.

Excusing himself from company, he forces a smile as he brushes the invasive hand off his thigh and gets up from the sofa, making his way over to you. “Hey there, cutie,” he greets, pulling you into a hug and you melt into his chest in an instant. “Glad you could make it.” He breathes in your scent, letting it calm his nerves but it does little to calm other things down. Fuck, you look perfect.

“How could I miss my favorite frat boy sporting a vampire costume?” You quiz, backing up a little to take in his attire. He’s wearing all black, a dress shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, pants that make his legs look even longer than they are. His eyes are smudged with little bit of black eyeliner but it works for him, he looks sexy. “Aren’t you a pretty one. I might consider letting you bite me,” you tease, and he knows you’re joking but it doesn’t stop the blood in his body to travel downwards.

“Careful what you wish for, bunny,” he muses, “I might just take you up on that offer and sink my teeth into that delectable neck of yours.” His fingers intertwine with yours as he lifts your hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before he leads your arm up onto his shoulder. “God, I missed you,” he murmurs as he lowers his head, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

He feels you chuckle, your nails scratching at his scalp as you thread your fingers through his dark locks. Once more you proved him that the change is worth it, because it’s you who’s on the line. “Dance with me?” He asks and you move with him towards the makeshift dancefloor.

Suguru pulls you closer as you enter the rhythm of the music, one hand resting on the small of your back while the other twirls you around gracefully. You’re giggling, amused by the undivided attention he pays you — he’s sweet when he has his eyes on the target, when he has to work for something. He dips you dramatically and your hand tighten on his shoulder, but it’s secure, the way he holds you as if he wished to protect you from all the bad in the world. His eyes lock with yours as he pulls you back up, flush against him. The heat radiating off both your bodies mingles together, creating an intoxicating aura that threatens to consume you whole.

You don’t really listen to what’s playing, a melody mellows in the background as his hands trace patterns along your sides and hips, follow the line of your spine, sometimes teasing the fluffy ball that is your tail. His touch ignites sparks wherever he grazes, leaving trails of fire in its wake. He’s hungry, for you, and you are too. It’s hard to deny it any longer and you think that maybe, just maybe he is ready to commit to something more than just a fleeting romance. It’s been months since he began pursuing you and his attention has been focused solely on you, despite the obstacles and temptations of his life. A reward wouldn’t hurt now, would it?

“I need a drink,” you tell him and he’s quick to react, taking your hand and leading the way towards the kitchen. He knows what you like, snatching a can of strawberry soda from the counter. When you nod in approval, he opens it, too hasty, too eager, that he doesn’t realize the way it bubbles over, spilling over the aluminum container and his fingers. Before he can react, your lips are already on his skin, licking away the sticky trail of pinkish liquid.

Suguru freezes as he feels your tongue glide across his skin, tasting the sweetness of the spilled soda. A shiver runs down his spine at the sensation, his breath hitching in his throat. Desire darkens his eyes, pupils dilate as he watches, transfixed, how you lick the sugary mess from his fingers. The sensation sends jolts of electricity coursing through his veins, pooling in the pit of his stomach. He breathes out your name, but you’re quick to shut him up.

You pull him down, your hand in his hair as you press your lips to his own. He tastes the strawberry sweetness of the soda on your tongue as it dances with his own, the flavor mixing deliciously with the taste of you. The dripping can is soon forgotten on the fake-marble countertop as he scoops you closer, arms wrapping around your waist securely. He can feel the heat of your body through the thin fabric of your costume, the softness of your curves molding perfectly against the hardness of his muscles. He’s eager, he moans lightly into your mouth, the sound vibrating against your lips. You feel the cold metal rubbing against your face, it’s interesting, it’s addicting. You like it.

“Always wanted to try that,” he pants out when for a moment you pull back. He chases your mouth, hungry for more, desperate.

“The soda?” You ask, pressing soft pecks to his pout.

“You.” He lounges forward once again, unsatiated and you don’t stop him. You don’t hear music anymore, all that’s rumbling in your ear is the sound of your heartbeat. You feel the heat in your veins, the flooding of ecstasy filling your cells one by one. There’s no space left between you, but you take a step forward anyway. You feel his hips rolling, a desperate cry for any sort of friction and when you slip your hand down, palming his groin through his pants, he groans into your mouth as his hips buck involuntarily into your touch. “Please,” he begs, eyes locking with yours as he leans his forehead against your own. He can feel himself throbbing beneath the confines of his pants, straining desperately for more of your attention. “You want me too, please tell me you do. I can’t… It hurts, I crave you so much, it hurts.”

“Let’s get out of here,” you murmur. “Your room is upstairs, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he breathes out. “But I won’t take you there. You deserve better than this place and my filthy bed. Let me take you to my apartment.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer and you follow him anyway, your hand incased in his large one, sticky from the spilled soda but none of you seem to care as you saunter through the dancing crowd of young people. Just to get outside.

The walk is a blur, you don’t remember much of it and so does Suguru. The night air is crisp, sending chills down your spine and the boy teases you about it, promising all the warmth he can produce in just few moments. You laugh with him, unbothered by the cool wind that tousles your hair. “It’s just around the corner,” he promises and you hum, matching his pace as he leads you through the neon-lit streets of Tokyo. The world blur into nothing, all you see is the man that holds your hand, the blue-ish hint to his hair whenever the lights fall on it just right, the sticky heat of his palm. You can still smell the faint strawberry aroma; you can definitely feel it on your tongue even though you didn’t manage to truly take a sip of it.

And you laugh again when he fumbles with the keys to his apartment. “Nervous?” You tease him playfully. “You have no idea,” he replies, smiling sheepishly and the entry finally swings open. He ushers you inside, kicking the door shut behind him and flicking the lights on.

Suguru wastes no time, pulling you flush against him once more as he presses you against the nearest wall, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. His hands roam your body greedily, mapping out every dip and curve, learning the shape of you and you do the same. He shrugs the jacket off and you’re quick to explore the broad lines of his shoulders, the hard muscles of his chest and stomach. You feel him everywhere, the hungry touch devouring every inch of your form. He breaks the kiss, trailing his lips down the column of your neck, sucking and biting the sensitive skin and you whimper breathily — the sound undeniably similar to his own name.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, guiding him lower as he reaches your chest. His kisses grow more wet and delicate as he meets the soft mounds of your breasts, tightly confined by the neckline of your dress. He breaths in your scent, an intoxicating mixture of sweet and floral. It makes his head spin, it’s addicting. He wants more.

It’s easy to slip the dress off of you — first the straps and then the garment goes down, inch by inch revealing the smooth expanse of your skin to his starved gaze. He drinks in the sight of you, his eyes roaming hungrily over the newly exposed flesh and in that moment he swears he has never seen a more beautiful woman in his entire life. His fingers skim along the edges of your bra, tracing the lace delicately before he leans in again, kissing your lips with softness that speaks more than any words could. He wants you, but he wants to worship you. He doesn’t want to make it all about lust and desire, he wants to make it about you and him. About whatever is this feeling that bubbles between you.

And so, he moves down slowly, lips mapping out the curve of your collarbone and down the path to your sternum. His hands follow your curves with gentleness he doesn’t recognize in himself. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, his hot breath meeting the skin of your stomach, “just breathtaking,” he lowers himself to his knees — something he has never done in his entire life, used to have women at his feet.

“Suguru,” you breathe out but he doesn’t listen. Not when the skin of your thighs feels so soft against his cheeks, not when it tastes so delicious as he trails wet, open-mouthed kisses along the plush flesh. Your fingernails find a way into his hair and he dives between your legs, encouraging one of them to hook over his shoulder. He savors the scent of you, his nose rubbing against the fabric of your underwear, prodding at the little wet patch. He licks it, his tongue flattening over the cotton, catching a hint of your taste — and that’s enough to make him go crazy for you.

“Fuck, you’re so sweet,” he breathes out, every exhale that meets the wetness of your panties sends jolts of electricity up your spine and back down to your core. He presses his lips to where he thinks your clit is, you feel him sucking gently and it’s enough friction to feel yourself pulsating. You moan quietly, the sound escaping your parted lips easily as your hold on his hair tightens. There’s no denying that you want him just as much as he wants you. He’s desperate but so are you.

Your knee buckle as he continues the torture and he coos sweetly. “Let’s take you to bed, you sweet thing,” his tone is sugary, a melody dripping with honey as he smiles at you in a way that makes you blush. There’s adoration written all over his face, his cheeks are flushed, lips red and glistening. You want to follow him when he stands up, but he swoops you off your feet, carrying you bridal style towards the bedroom. It makes you giggle.

“Practicing already?” You muse and he just smiles.

“Perhaps.”

Your back meets the cold bedspread as he lays you down delicately. No time is wasted before he’s right above you, right on you — you feel the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress. No complains about it. He feels good, his hips rolling in a way that has his bulging erection grind along your panties. You hate the fabrics between you two, you hate how they make you feel less of him.

So you move your hands, slide them between your bodies, fumble with the buttons of his shirt. “Impatient much?” He teases, but helps you, pulling the shirt over his head, saving you trouble of the bottom fasteners. His lips find yours in a kiss that burns and you whimper into it, feeling the warmth spreading all over your body.

You reach down. Button, zipper. Your hands tremble as you push the fabric off his hips and he kicks it down. He helps himself with a hand and soon, his pants are on the ground, along with his socks and your bra, that you impatiently toss away. Suguru’s heart rumbles against his ribcage as he takes in the sight of your bare chest. It’s perfect, you are perfect and he cannot believe the luck he has — after years of chasing simple pleasures and meaningless peaks, he had finally found someone he wants to call his.

He feels your heart underneath his cheek as he leans down, inhaling the scent of your skin — his nose trails patterns over the soft flesh before he presses his lips to it, kissing his way towards one of your nipples. It pebbles beneath his touch, hardening as he latches onto it, sucking and teasing it with teeth, twirling his tongue all around. He matches his ministrations with his fingers, not letting the twin feel left out. Your taste is of pure heaven and the sounds that leave your mouth are ones of an angel.

There’s a patch of wet on his boxers, right where the throbbing head of his cock strains against the fabric — the precum oozing out as he grinds his hips against yours. It makes him insane how you reply with the roll of your own, to match his moves, to cause more of that delicious friction that sends both of you into a spiral of desire.

Unable to wait any longer, you hook your fingers at the waistband of his underwear, tugging it down and Suguru replies with the same — pulling the soaked cotton off of you. He wants to taste you, and he will, but not now. He reaches down, guiding the tip of his cock between the folds of your pussy, the head sliding with ease as your slick mixes with the pearly beads of semen. He loves the way your thighs tremble every time he glides over your sensitive clit, how your breath hitches and eyes close.

“Ready?” The question falls and you nod fervently, your hands finding his shoulders for balance. “Use your words, beautiful.”

“I’m ready,” you assure and then, your back arches off the mattress. He slides in inch by inch, stretching you, filling you so completely, making you go blind for a moment. The pain burns just faintly, losing its flames to the flooding of endorphins and pleasure. He goes in to the hilt, his body shuddering as he drops his head to the crook of your neck.

The feeling overwhelms him. The way your pussy grips him, like a vice that almost pulls him in more and more. It’s delightful. Ecstatic. It’s something he’s never experienced before. Is that what love feels like? He moves, slowly backing his hips until there’s nothing but a tip nestled inside you before he pushes forward again, knocking the air out of your lungs and his own too.

You paw at his arms, his back and chest. You want him closer, you want to feel all of him. Stars are clouding your vision, the world ceases to exist and there’s nothing else in it but you and the man on top of you. He feels so good, like he’s meant to be right there with you and Suguru feels the same. Like he found home, like he belongs there, in the warmth of your embrace, in the tightness of your walls. He loves the way you cling to him, the way your nails dig into his skin and your heels dig into his ass, urging him to go harder, faster. He complies, his hips snapping against yours as the wet sounds of your bodies colliding echo through the room, alongside your moans and gasps.

He changes the angle, shifting his hips to hit that spot inside you that makes the stars glitter before your eyes. He knows he’s found it when your back arches off the bed, your nails scoring down his back and a scream tears from your throat. He loves the sound, he loves the sight. He loves how you come undone, how beautifully blissed out your expression is, how your eyes lock with his even though you see nothing but haze. He grins, a smile lost against your skin as he continues pounding into you relentlessly, chasing his own high. He can feel it already, it threatens to consume him. His balls draw up tight, his heart races in his chest.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his groans and whimpers against your tender flesh as his hand grips your hip tightly. You match him thrust for thrust, nails leaving angry red marks in their wake. You feel the pleasure building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until you feel you might explode. Your walls start to flutter around him to the rhythm of your heartbeat and the desire coursing through your veins.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Suguru gasps, his voice strained with exertion. He knows you’re close, it drives him insane. “I’m gonna—” He cuts himself off with a guttural moan as his climax hits him like a freight train. He follows you into the pit of pure delight, headfirst, no thoughts. Just pure, overwhelming bliss.

He collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, as his hips buck forward few more times, riding out your highs with stuttered thrusts. You both lay there, panting and sweating, basking in the afterglow of passion. His softening cock slips out of you, followed by a gush of combined fluids but none of you worries about the mess, too blissed out to care about a thing.

“Wow,” he breathes, nuzzling his face into your neck, finding your pulse with his lips. “That was incredible.”

You giggle softly, carding your fingers through his sweat-dampened locks. They feel like silk, soft and luxurious. “Mm, it certainly was.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he exhales, rolling off of you and pulling you into his arms. He presses a tender kiss to your temple, marveling at the intimacy of the moment. It feels new, like an uncharted territory that he wants to explore further. With you. “I meant what I said earlier,” he murmurs, his voice barely above whisper and sincere. “I want to be better. To be worthy of you.”

You hum, lifting your head to look at him and all you see in his violet eyes is raw honesty and a depth of emotion that takes your breath away. “I believe you,” you tell him, leaning in to capture his lips in a slow, lingering kiss. There’s no more rush, no more lust — just pure, soft affection. “And I want to help you change. Together, yeah?”

Suguru smiles against our mouth, his heart swelling with love he never knew he was capable of.

Together.

[cinhomi]

𝑈𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑑

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Han Jisung x fem reader

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you and your soulmate in a random morning of May

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, smut

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: descriptions of sexual intercourse, unprotected sex, no dynamic specified, vanilla, talks of death and afterlife

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.9K

“Ji?”

It's warm. The Sun’s rays penetrate the cream colored curtains of his bedroom and dance on your naked skin. The tree outside paints stunning shadows that turn into shapes that move with the light, in a psychedelic motion that molds with your bodies. A pantone of warm colors reflects everywhere and it's as if they're about to spill in your heart, too.

“Yeah, baby?”

His voice is barely a whisper, his breath tickles your ear. You can feel his hand move from your side to go up, up, until it reaches your neck and his fingers delicately close round it. You feel his bottom lip first, then the upper one, as he starts to leave little pecks on your nape, your jawline. The presence of his other arm is persistent, under you, dragging you closer until your back is flat on his chest. The pendant of his necklace starts to leave a print between your shoulder blades.

“Do you think there's life after death?”

He halts his actions. Jisung leaves another kiss behind your ear and inhales, hoping to get drunk with your scent. His hand caresses your cheek, and then travels down to your arm, finding your wrist, taking it close to his pretty mouth to rest there, to let him kiss it. He presses your digits on his lips and gives attention to each of them. It takes him a while to reply, but you give him all the time he needs.

“I like to believe that there is, yes.” his eyes close for a moment, it's almost as if he wants to memorize your fingerprints. “Where does this question come from, baby?”

When you turn around to face him you find his faint smile, his adoring eyes that trail from your chest, to your lips, to your own irises. There's a rebelling tuft of curly hair that stands alone on his head, and the mole on his cheek moves whenever he swallows. You caress the one placed on his collarbone, before taking a deep breath. “I just… I was thinking- when we die… our body remains here, right?”

Jisung nods and hums, brows furrowing slightly, trying to predict the path your thoughts will take.

“And, wouldn't it be sad if it all ended… like that? Or maybe- or maybe that's the beauty of it? In the end we really always kind of leave a piece of us here. Being it bones or ashes…"

He hooks the necklace he gifted you the night prior, twistes it in his hand and watches it shine. “I always feel like we're too big to just end with death, you know? I don't know if we actually reincarnate or if something like Heaven or Hell exists, but I don't want to- no, I can't accept the idea of disappearing from the universe completely.” he explains, all while bringing you close to him again, your breasts now against his chest, your leg brushing his glutes as he takes it to rest on his hip. “Do you agree?”

“Yeah,” you pout, your hands open to feel his muscles tense under your touch, “we are immense. Don't you ever think that, sometimes, you have strong feelings about something because you were connected with it in your previous life?”

Jisung nods, he leaves a kiss on the crown of your head. “For example?” he chimes in, resting his head on your pillow.

“Well,” you start, a hint of a giggle already threatening your voice, “maybe you're scared of bugs because in a previous life one killed you!” and a light slap can be heard on your shoulder as he shakes his head trying to suppress a smile.

“I thought you were about to be all cute and reference us… tch.” he looks at the ceiling, faking being offended.

“What do you mean?” and at your question his farce crumbles immediately, enamored eyes staring down at you.

“Maybe we're together now because we were lovers in our past life, too. No?”

All words die in your throat. There's a block forming in the pit of your stomach and your waterline starts to tingle.

“From the first moment my eyes laid on you, I knew you were the one. Sometimes I think I've known you all my existence, sometimes I wonder if we come from the same star.”

“Ji…” before he can see your expression you bury your head in his chest, “this is disgustingly romantic…”

He giggles. You look at him again just to get a glimpse of his gummy smile, maybe searching for the crooked teeth he had once. You miss it sometimes.

Jisung gets up on his elbows and in moments like these he seems bigger. His shoulders are up straight, chest popped up, slim waist twisted making the faint lines of his abs become curves. You'd look at his thighs and at his cock too, but grey cotton sheets cover it all.

“But it's true! It's true… I refuse to believe otherwise. We're together in every universe, baby.” his gaze fixed on yours. “Is it childish to think so?”

You shake your head, blinking slowly. Sunlight is still a bit too strong, your eyes straining from it, but the way it reflects on him, it's mesmerizing. Jisung takes your face in his hands and kisses you, tenderly, totally opposed to how he did it the night prior. It's so sweet, it's overwhelmingly sweet and you can't help but melt as his index finger caresses the corner of your eye, as his thumb taps your bottom lip for him to take between his. There's still a slight ache between your legs but it's a lovely feeling. There's still the smell of your juices, your panties by the end of the bed, his shirt hanging on the corner of his TV.

“I'll find you in every universe,” he whispers between kisses, “I'll be by your side, even if we become different things, I'll- I'll find a way, angel, I'll find it.” more urgently, his cold rings roam on your back, lifting you up enough to have his arms around you. It makes you sigh, it makes you whimper.

“I- I want-” you gasp, his tongue is under your jaw and it keeps on traveling down every valley of your body. There are soft but obnoxious sounds now echoing in the room. There's also a dog barking in the distance, few cars passing by, someone opening their shutters. “I want everything I lost to- come back to me, Jisung…”

His head is now on your belly, he stays there with his eyes closed. Jisung sighs. He kisses your belly button and goes even lower, almost disappearing under the covers.

“It will…” he inhales your smell, you, groaning against your navel, “it's already here angel. You may not be seeing it, but you're already surrounded by it. You said that, we just leave our bodies-” he checks on your expression quickly. “You feel it, don't you?”

He sees your eyelashes flutter and your head moving up and down. Jisung kisses your clit, and then your labia, and his eyes roll back when your soft sounds reach him. When your leg lifts and your knee presses on his cheek, nudging him away, big round confused eyes run all over you once again.

“Inside…” even if the sentence floats between you too, Jisung understands. He comes up and the way the freshly clean cotton falls from his figure reminds you that time at the lake, when he came out from the water to make love to you under a willow. He's hard, you feel it against your thigh.

“Need me to stretch you?” he's whispering, he's kissing your left shoulder. As you shake your head, his tip is already catching in your entrance.

“It'll be okay baby. I know you miss them, but your heart is big,” his cock slowly slips inside you as he speaks, “your heart is big and I love you for this reason.” and then you find yourself full, of him, of his sweet words, full of light and sorrow and sadness and cheesecake. You feel so many things, it's only natural that some tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but Jisung kisses them all away, but Jisung hushes you and rolls his hips deeper into you, with the same rhythm of the tap of your kitchen sink, that broke two days ago. Later he’ll call someone to fix it.

When your palms glide on his back you feel bumps, formed as long streaks. You close your eyes, you touch them like a blind person reading braille, you try to read him. It's written “I love you” all over. He adores it when you hold him flush over you, when your nails cling to him as he thrusts into you, adores your delirant praise, hushed under your breath.

Jisung drags his voice in long moans, you feel them hot on your neck, they alternate with hisses while his eyes squeeze shut and fight to stay open, to witness how your own face moves. They reverberate in your chest and your heart is being caressed. What was warm light now is scorcingly hot directly against your bodies, a sheen of sweat making you sparkle. It's such a nice day, you should grab coffee together later. Take his sunglasses maybe. His hoodie. His soul. He doesn't mind.

“Baby…” it's hoarse now, it'll sound melodic again when he's calm, “baby you are my everything-” his hips pick up speed, they falter, his thighs burn. When you wrap your legs on his lower half, when your heels press on him they stutter and Jisung chokes on his own words. You feel the tell-tale throbs in his cock, you feel the way his hands grip the flesh of your hips, and your walls closing around him.

“Ji- baby, look at me, look me in the eyes-” it's afternoon already. He lifts properly, both hands on the sides of your head. Jisung looks you in the eyes. Jisung, he tells you that he loves you repeatedly as he feels his high so close he thinks he's going to pass out. Your pussy sucks him in whenever he retracts his cock, he hears the change in your voice. You'll go on a walk together tonight.

He does as you asked, never closes his eyelids. He's like a god falling apart, stilling into you, orgasm crashing over him like a tidal wave. It's him, it's his expression that makes you arch your back, it's him greedily covering every millimeter of skin he sees with his wet lips, it's his praise, his “baby”, his cum deep inside you. You exist. In that moment you're sure you exist because Jisung breathes life into you, because when you come for him he circles your clit and smiles. You die and then you're alive again.

Jisung stays there for a while, he keeps smiling, teeth grazing your chest and collar bones as you both start to giggle. You feel the ache again and it's comforting.

"I don't care about dying, angel. I mean, I don't want to, but… it's okay because I already knew happiness, you know?” he closes his eyes.

It's a hot day of May and few butterflies appear to do their dance in the air. It's a hot day of May and you discuss about life and death like it's nothing, like you talk about the weather. It's a hot day of May and it's easy to love, to exist, to accept the end of existence. It's just a day like the others, and that's beautiful.

“I know.” your reply comes before a sigh. You'll have to say goodbye to coffee and think about lunch. “You have to tell your mom I need her kimchi recipe, okay?”

a.n.

life is beautiful, please live it to its fullest and enjoy every moment, even if it brings pain, even if it seems dark, please cherish it. life is beautiful and you deserve to think so. I love you, take care of yourself.

[lara4eclipze]

“Perfume”

— ( 🚇 ) do I really miss you? — or do I miss the idea of you, you're everywhere I can't escape it

— ( 🚬 ) angst , implied breakup , exes , swearing , anything else I forgot please tell me, short af , I was trying to make it longer but I js couldn't :((

you couldn't escape her — ever since the break-up thoughts of daniela kept plaguing you

could've you avoided this?

did you guys have a chance of healing what was broken?

it hurt you, everywhere you looked , everywhere you went she was there — her perfume wafted through the streets during the days you needed her most, her favorite color painted your closet

sometimes you question yourself "do I really miss her — or do I miss the idea of her" , it was like a punishment that you missed her , she got away

≈

February 14 2024

the day you both made it official, it was filled with laughter and joy , you thought you would never feel this good but you did

"I love you!" daniela exclaims , hugging you as you gave her your gift

"I love you more" you replied as a blush crept up to your cheeks

≈

you wanted to forget that day — you wanted to forget her, you want her to be just a random woman, someone who didn't break your heart

buzzed by your thoughts you walk into the subway , you were running late but who cares? — it's not like your bitch of a boss will care

you were listening to some frank ocean song — until she walked in the train , her pretty curls framing her face — her mole that you used to trace with your fingers

"why" you murmur, your vision gets blurry as you try not to cry , and possibly for her to not notice you

sucking it up you wear your hoodie , quietly sniffling

you had to endure it , you had to pretend like you didn't want to run in her arms and cry like a child

until it was your stop — before walking out you look at her , maybe for the last time? — she seemed normal as if she was okay

yet you were a mess

as the doors shut you swallow the lump in your thoat , turning away

"young lady?— you dropped this earlier" an old woman says handing you a handkerchief, you thanked her

as you crouch to her level you smelt it , her perfume— danielas perfume

but as the old woman walked away it left , maybe it was gods plan for you to move on

[generalkenobee]

A/N: ok so I know this probably won't get many likes or anything but I literally love Chase sm so I need to write this just for my well being because I've loved him since I was like ten, hope you enjoy 💖🩷

Warnings: sfw and nsfw headcannons, aged up!!!, FEM reader (kinda)

SFW headcannons

•hand holding is such a must with him

•he gives the best hugs, especially when he's in his black sweatpants and sleep sweater because everything is just so warm and gentle

•hes insanely touch starved

•Chase has never had a partner before you so you have to be patient with him, for example

-(Y/N), I don't know why you asked me for help with your homework, it was super easy

He would say laughing, not realizing that he hurt your feelings because you genuinely needed help

-(Y/N), I can't hold your hand right now I'm clearly working on this

Chase would say annoyed while still looking at the screen of his computer

•after a while and some help from you he's learned that a relationship takes time and consideration

•my man lovessss your stomach, no matter the size or if you have cellulite, stretch marks, he loves it so much

•loves to kiss you everywhere, especially because the whole touch starved thing. Chase is always placing a quick kiss to your cheek while he walks by you, first thing he does in the morning and before he goes to bed is kiss you

•physically can't sleep if you're not in the bed next to him

•nicknames he calls you

-sweetheart

-baby

-honey

•whenever he writes your name he always puts a little heart next to it

•usually falls asleep with his head resting on your chest with steady breathing

•loves to have you run your fingers through his hair while he falls asleep and scratch his scalp

•loves when you kiss all his moles and freckles, just basic beauty marks because it shows that you love every part of him

•he gets incredibly jealous of everyone. He's not used to people picking him and genuinely wanting to be with him over Adam for example

•always has mints, gum, or breath, spray on hand

•he takes extra precautions before seeing you (brushing his hair four times, showing twice, brushing his teeth over and over again, making sure hes wearing an outfit he'll know you'll like)

•soooo good with kids

NSFW headcannons

•lovessss when you pull his hair

•so loud, like soooo insanely loud. Moans, groans, and when he gets close whimpers

•he loves when you cockwarm him while he plays video games or when he's working on something

•eye contact while he trusts up into you, it's almost like his way of thanking you for being so vulnerable with him

•things chase says during sex

-s-shit..you feel so warm..s-so welcoming baby..

-this all for me?

-thank you thank you thank you..

-I love you so much...

-its so deep..I-I can feel all of you...

•chase tries not to ever cuss, he thinks there's smarter words to use..but when he's close it's like a whole new person

-f-fuck..fucking shit baby I'm oh my god I'm gonna, aungh..

•this one time you let spike fuck you and chase got upset because he didn't remember any of it, and he also felt jealous for some reason?

•sometimes when you walk by, you'll slap him on the ass through his jeans and he jumps up in fear every time

•lightly grazes his teeth over your neck during sex and you can feel his hot breath against your pulse..

•I feel like he really wants to cum on your face but is way to scared to ask

I HAVE SO MUCH MORE TO SAY ABOUT HIM SO IF YOU HAVE A REQUEST PLEASE SEND IT IN:)))

[creature-wizard]

Critical thinking tip: Ask yourself if the "evidence" actually suggests what's being proposed

Many conspiracy theorists and fringe scientists will say they have evidence for their claims, but when you take a closer look at the supposed evidence, it doesn't really suggest what they want it to suggest. It's more like they're finding a thing and just claiming it as evidence without first demonstrating an actual link between these things.

A historical example of this are the so-called witches' teats or witches' marks that early modern witch hunters claimed were evidence of a Satanic pact. In reality, there are many reasons people can have bumps and blemishes on their bodies. People naturally develop moles and skin tags throughout their lives, or grow warts, or have extra nipples because that's a thing that happens sometimes. But these witch hunters didn't care - they just wanted to find people (mostly women) to scapegoat for anything that went wrong, so they just asserted these things had diabolical origins without ever bothering to actually try and demonstrate a causal link. And since these were the days before dermatology, you can imagine how easy it was to find these kinds of things on people.

Modern conspiracy theorists do something very similar. Let's take a look at the people who assert that an ancient Satanic cult is secretly ruling the world. In their mythology, so to speak, many shapes, colors, and images are claimed to be their symbols. The number of things these people claim are symbols are the conspiracy is so large that it's almost impossible not to see Satanic symbology everywhere if you start looking for it.

The Project Monarch conspiracy theory is a really good example of this. Many proponents claim that butterflies symbolize Monarch programming (ie, the alleged art of turning people into Manchurian agents), so if you see an actor or model wearing a shirt with a butterfly, if means they've been programmed. The works of Fritz Springmeier and Cisco Wheeler assert that regular everyday colors like red, blue, green, etc. are used for various forms of programming. This enables proponents to present a photo of someone with dyed hair and claim they've been programmed. You can see an example of this here, where a number of entertainers who dyed their hair green are claimed to have been given "frog programming." Also, if you read through the page, you can also see claims large chain jewelry is actually a symbol of enslavement.

You only have to stop and think about this for a moment to realize that colorful hair dye and large chain jewelry are just popular fashion trends. No actual link between their looks and this alleged conspiracy is ever shown. The only thing this page really succeeds in demonstrating is that conspiracy theorists are by and large a bunch of little haters who demonize anything that doesn't conform with their hyperconservative ideals.

Such is how this whole conspiracy theory works; if it exists, proponents will try and spin it into an evil symbol of some kind, to the point where it will seem that their influence is everywhere. And some people fall for this, failing to realize that this isn't any different from searching for witches' teats.

Here's a different kind of example: in witchcraft communities, you might hear people saying that if your hematite ring breaks, that means it absorbed a curse or some kind of bad energy. But in reality, hematite is a pretty brittle material, and if you regularly wear it, it's bound to break sooner or later.

Another one I often see are people claiming that if a candle flame burns really high and smokes a lot, it's some kind of divine sign. In reality, this is just what candles do when their wicks aren't properly trimmed.

And then of course, there are so-called ascension symptoms. For many years now (since at least the late 2000s), New Agers have claimed that a host of unpleasant symptoms are actually signs that they're about to ascend to 5D. Everyone's always claiming that it's going to happen in the very near future (December 2012 was a popular one back in the day.) But the years keep rolling by, and nobody ever ascends. However, the symptoms presented on just about any ascension symptom list you can find are associated with chronic stress, depression, anxiety, and many other health issues.

All of these things are forms of the non-sequitur fallacy - which is to say, the conclusions don't actually follow the premises. They all assert "if X, then Y" in some form without ever actually demonstrating a causal link between X and Y.

So when someone out there is claiming that X is evidence of Y - ask yourself: has a link actually been demonstrated, or does the preponderance of evidence actually suggest a different cause?

[noxeauu]

Hypnos children Headcanon

They are always tired (logic)

They either suffer from insomnia or just sleep for three days straight and still feel tired

They sometimes visit the dreams of the demigods that haven’t came to the camp yet

It cost them loads of energy

They can chit chat with their friends in their dreams when they’re away

They rarely participate in the capture the flags

When they do, hope you don’t cross one. They would make you drop sleep.

The most advanced one, and really experienced ones can stay for a few minutes in a gods dream. It’s very fast and hard

They have great relationships with the kids of Nyx and Thanatos.

Other campers come to them when they have problems sleeping

If you are friend with a Hypnos kid, and you woke up from a nightmare, they will gladly let you come into their sacred place. Their bed. To sleep with them.

At first they seem lazy. And they are, mostly

When he can, Hypnos come by and greets his kiddos in their sleep.

He doesn’t really care if Zeus prohibit it. It’s in their dreams, how can he check that ?

Their ADHD already make them insomniac, for some, so it’s not uncommon to them to just not sleep for a few days.

They will eventually fall asleep, in the most strange places.

You can encounter a sleeping Hypnos kid almost everywhere, as if they can sleep on command. On the training area, on their meal, in a tree,…

Do not wake them, or you’ll have nightmares for quite some time !

Their sleep is sacred

Almost every kid has some sort of mark around their ears. A mole, a birthmark, .. anything !

Cause, you know, Hypnos is said to have a pair of wings near his ears.

Those kids are one of the most calm and understanding cabins. They will never judge you based on your fears, sexuality, gender or anything like that

[sashaisready]

Chapter Twenty-Five - Epilogue

Bucky Barnes Mob AU x Femme Reader

You're hard at work in Pepper's Bakery when notorious mob boss James 'Bucky' Barnes darkens your doorway one typical afternoon, and life is never the same again.

18+ - see Masterlist for full list of warnings

Series Masterlist

(gif does not represent how reader looks!)

It had been nearly a year now since you'd met Bucky.

You're still living in your apartment despite his protests, he's been vocal since early on in your relationship that he wants you to move in with him. You're in his house most of the time anyway, and he doesn't like waking up with you not there. The men like having you around, really like it when you bake for them or bring leftovers back from the bakery. But you enjoy your little sanctuary, a break from the busy house and the swarms of mobsters – who are perfectly pleasant, but everywhere. Your apartment has a silence you can't find anywhere else. A relic from your old life. Still, he's wearing you down and it won't be long until you give in to him. You know that, he knows that, but you've never been one to back down from a fight. He knows that too.

You're still at the bakery. The newest Assistant, Carol, has taken to the job like a duck to water and has settled in nicely between you and Wanda. She's feisty and keeps Bucky's men on their toes too, which is a bonus.

Bucky surprised you by buying a large stake in the bakery and putting it in your name, meaning you now technically own it with Pepper. He was nonchalant despite your shock and gratitude, telling you that you practically run the place anyway so you should do so legally too. Pepper is delighted with the choice of new business partner and business is booming, although it's all still quite new to you – you've always been about the cake rather than the numbers. Still, you're learning all about running a business – with Bucky's help and experience.

Wanda and Vis are getting married and you're maid of honour, of course. You're busy looking at centrepieces and honeymoon Pinterest boards when you're together but still find time to sometimes grab a beer with Peter to laugh and catch up. He's back with his ex, Mora, and seems very happy. Neither of you can believe you were ever romantically involved now, even fleetingly, it just feels so wrong.

Bucky's business is doing well too. He's made a conscious effort to shift into more legitimate activities in your honour so he's doing his best to go by the book. You'd bet a large sum of money that he dabbles more under the table than he lets on, but you don't ask. He's started to share more about his past and you hold his hand and kiss his scars as he talks. Some of it is shocking, upsetting – but you don't judge him. He punishes himself enough. To you, a lot of it sounds like a lost young man groomed to be a pawn by older and stronger personalities. But Bucky never shies away from the wrongs he's committed, he believes in accountability.

HYDRA had been wiped out completely after that night, but Bucky keeps an eye on any former members or allegiances who may start up again. He managed to weed out the mole, Klaue, after some rigorous investigation. He was feeding Pierce location information and any titbits he could get his hands on for a pay-out.

One day Klaue was there and the next he wasn't. You hadn't really gotten to know him. You guessed it didn't end well for him but again, didn't ask. The newspapers simply reported that he was missing and you have a feeling he won't ever be found. But it's hard to feel sympathy as what he did nearly killed you, a fact Bucky was painfully aware of when he uncovered the double-crossing.

He doesn't have you followed anymore but he likes you to check in when you're apart, and he gets irritable if he hasn't heard from you in a while. Sometimes if you lose track of time and forget then he'll call you, anxious something has happened and scolding you. It's something of a bone of contention in your relationship but you try to remind yourself he's always on high alert after the night you got taken, and that this all comes from a place of fear. You can see he's doing his best.

The panic attacks from that night still catch you off guard occasionally. You know you won't ever be fully free, but it's gotten easier, it's gotten better. You know how to handle them. Same with the nightmares, they're uncommon now but never fully gone. Bucky holds you tight when you cry out in your sleep, his warm touch on your skin bringing you back to him as he reassures you that he's there. He's always there. He hates thinking about you waking up alone when you're staying at your place without him.

You still don't care for all aspects of his work. You still aren't fully comfortable taking money from him and prefer the cosy neighbourhood restaurants over the high end establishments in Manhattan. You're more at home with a burger than foie gras. Still, you accompany him when his business requires it – galas and meetings, fancy dinners and charity events. You never feel fully comfortable but you know he appreciates having you there. You have a few dresses to look the part now which helps with your insecurity. He teases that at least he knows you're not with him for his money.

You have no patience for the paparazzi or red carpets but funnily enough they have lots of time for you. The press seem to like the idea of the notorious Bucky Barnes falling for the 'baker next door', reforming his gangster ways and helping him settle down. It makes you roll your eyes when occasional articles pop up about you online, but Bucky finds it all very amusing.

Your insecurities rear their ugly head when occasionally women try and flirt with Bucky, not even particularly put off if you're there. Some of them seem to see it as a challenge, tempting the notorious mob boss away now he's settled and happy with a girlfriend. Bucky is quick to shut them down, he only has eyes for you after all – but part of him revels in your jealousy. You'll glue yourself to his side when it happens, scowling at the offending interloper and making it clear he's yours. You stake your claim with a firm kiss and protectively run your arm across his back. This is the role Bucky normally plays, and he'd never admit it to you but he likes when you turn the tables, reminding him that you can be just as territorial as he can.

You once both attended a black tie gala and somehow got separated as the evening went on. You were cornered by a society type trying to pitch you some sort of charitable cause...donkeys maybe? No, zebras. Maybe. Or was it a toy museum? He seemed to think you could convince Bucky to make a generous donation, that you were the wheel he needed to grease to get the cash. Despite the fact you knew the requestor could fund the charity for a year from his own bank balance and not even notice. You saw through it of course, you got this sort of impassioned spiel from one person or another at all of these events as they pretended to be interested in the bakery. You'd nod half-heartedly and tell them you would keep it in mind.

As the man continued to wax lyrical on the plight of the donkeys, or zebras, or toys, you caught a glimpse of Bucky across the grand hall. You felt a momentary pang of love as you watched him in his tux, he looked so handsome. You could scarcely believe you got to wake up to him every day.

But that affection quickly dissipated as you saw him in close conversation with a gorgeous woman, looking practically like a celebrity in a tight fitting red dress. Bucky was laughing and the woman kept touching his arm as she spoke. You seethed quietly as you glared at him over your conversation partner's shoulder.

Fine. Two can play that game.

You turned your attention back to the man in front of you. Mr. Drake you thought his name was, or was it Mr. Dickinson? Mr D would suffice. You began to smile warmly as Mr D continued his monologue, absent-mindedly running a finger across the top of your breast as you nodded along. You caught his breath hitch slightly and you took your cue to move closer to him. He cracked a terrible joke and you laughed uproariously as you angled your hips to accentuate your dress.

Your laughter caught Bucky's attention, in the corner of your eye you saw his head snap over in your direction, his companion suddenly forgotten. His gaze stayed on you as you began to press your hand onto Mr D's chest and told him how funny he was. Mr D began to stutter, clearly nervous to be in this position but not wholly against it either.

You caught Bucky's eye and stared back at him defiantly as you continued the show. He was stoic to everyone else but you knew he was raging, you recognised his poker face well enough by now. Your performance continued until Bucky finally broke away and stormed over to you, leaving his new lady friend gawking as he disappeared halfway through her sentence.

1-0 to you.

"Can I steal her for a moment?" Bucky asked Mr D, voice sweet as pie as a firm arm snaked around your waist.

Mr D nodded and stammered in agreement, clearly unnerved and nervous about what Bucky might think. Poor guy.

He marched you a suitable distance to the corner of the room and then he was hissing in your ear.

"What game are you playing here, Doll?" he warned, his face locked into a smile. To any observers you looked like a loving couple having a moment of quiet.

"Same one you're playing, apparently" you shot back through your own carefully painted grin. "Leaving me to be shaken down for money while you make new friends".

Bucky chuckled. "She's on the board of a company we're trying to make a deal with, Doll. I need to keep her sweet..."

"Mmm. Well she certainly thinks you're funny".

He glared at you, silently daring you to push him further. You merely smirked.

You had ended up in a broom closet, going at it against the door as Bucky covered your moans with his metal hand and rutted deep inside of you.

"My jealous Doll" he whispered into your ear between thrusts as you teetered over the edge. "Acting out at my work events...flirting with rich old men to piss me off...all because you want my attention...what am I going to do with you?"

You'd come hard, whimpering against his chest as he held you tightly. You slowly raised your eyes to meet his as a satisfied grin spread over your blissed out face.

"Worked though, didn't it?"

*

You both like retire to bed early and quickly became intimate with every inch of each other's bodies. The sex is like nothing you've ever experienced, a combination of raw lust and attentive lovemaking. You may not always be on the same page in conversation, but your bodies have always understood one other perfectly.

You can almost see Bucky's persona soften in real time once the bedroom door is closed. He'll strip off his suit and settle into bed with you, Bucky the mob boss and ruthless businessman disappearing before your very eyes as your Bucky emerges in his place. Your Bucky who whispers sweet nothings in your ear, who holds you tenderly and watches you with awe. He's still wracked with guilt about what happened with HYDRA, and generally how your relationship started, and so he apologises and tells you he loves you and holds you close – repeating the same gentle phrases to you like he's reciting a prayer. And no matter how much you tell him it was alright, that you love him and forgive him, you understand a small part of him will always carry it with him – much like you and your trauma from that night. So you allow him to confess his sins as he takes you in his arms and kisses your skin as he makes it up to you, his ministrations both vocal and physical.

*

It's a normal Wednesday evening and Bucky is due in any minute. You're in his ensuite bathroom staring blankly at the tiles in a bit of a daze when he storms into the bedroom.

"Doll...I'm home" he calls as he walks in, slipping his jacket off. "What do you want for dinner? Sushi could be good..."

His face creases in puzzlement when he can't see you. He notices the ajar bathroom door and heads over.

"Doll...?"

You're sitting on the closed lid of the toilet but don't answer him or meet his eye, you just sigh heavily.

"Baby...you alright?" he moves to you, suddenly anxious that you're having a panic attack or PTSD flashback.

"I'm fine..." you mumble quietly, moving your eyes to meet his. "Looks like I'll be moving in after all".

His face lights up. "Finally! Don't worry, I'll fix everything, the truck...movers...Wait, what changed your mind?"

You smile brightly at him then slowly reveal a positive pregnancy test.

"Hope you've got room for two of us?" you grin.

Bucky's jaw drops open as he looks between you and the test. He moves quickly, smattering your face in kisses as he glares at the two bold lines. He face spreads into a disbelieving smile.

"Oh my god..." he whispers.

"I know..."

"Oh...my god"

"I know..."

"So...maybe we need to rethink sushi for dinner".

You laugh, wrapping your legs around his waist as he picks you up and swings you around. He kisses you deeply before his eyes fly open and widen at a sudden realisation.

"Wait...does this mean you've got a bun-"

"I swear to God, don't say it" you warn.

"Please..." he pleads.

"Ugh, fine. But just once".

"You've got a bun in the oven" he grins.

"Happy?"

"Oh Doll, extremely".

The End

Aaand that’s a wrap! Thank you to everyone who has read, liked, commented and reblogged this fic! It means so much to me and makes me so happy that people have enjoyed it. I am moving some of my other fics over from Wattpad/Ao3 after the holidays and am also cooking up some ideas for a Biker!Bucky fic for 2024 which I’m excited about.

Check out my Masterlist for my other stories and I’m also on Ko-Fi too. Thanks again ❤️

[artisticxlly]

A list of Haikyu!! character hcs

some of which are TERRIBLY specific! :,) Please enjoy and feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments! I'm all about exchanging hcs (I might reblog with additional characters orrr make multiple parts and link them here)

General hcs:

The people who I envision as chubby, buff, or just plain beefy have stretchmarks. I find it way more realistic (as someone who literally has them everywhere), and it adds some flair! Stretch marks are very pretty imo

Scars. People get childhood scars, accidental ones, surgical, etc. Whether its Osamu getting them from cooking practice or athletes from getting banged up! Idk I think the great majority of Haikyuu characters have some kind of scars!

Now for some specific characters!

Sakusa Kiyoomi

Sakusa plucks his eyebrow hairs (because he likes them to look neat) frequently, but if he'd let them just grow freely, he'd have a pretty close equivalent to a unibrow?

He has moles everywhere. Like he looks close to a dalmatian /hj

Eyebags (ty noon). I'd imagine they'd be a result of a combination of pale, thin skin under his eyes and partial bad sleep because of joint pains

He had THE WORST growth pains. He had to actually work on his posture for a hot minute after puberty because he just curled in on himself way too frequently

He is a walking pharmacy if he carries his bag with him. He not only has supplies he uses himself but also for others who might potentially need something (pain meds, masks, hand warmers, etc)

He gets super dry hands and uses hand cream frequently, especially in the winter (the brand he uses is barely scented, he doesn't like heavily perfumed things (they kind of just smell like alcohol to him sometimes)

He is a little bit particular about smells. He usually sticks to specific scents when buying things that don't really change from brand to brand or product to product (coconut and mint are usually his go-to)

He's really ticklish around his ribs and hips

Kita Shinsuke

Kita finds cleaning very therapeutic, but he can get really bad pains or feel really sore after,, he gets into this zone where he kind of forgets to take breaks until the pain catches up to him

I feel like he'd really like lavender scented things... Both for the calming effect and just the general nature of the smell

Kind of inspired by the fact that he hates static? He really doesn't like scratchy/itchy fabric, cannot bear to wear it really

He prefers very simple textures when it comes to food (rice is a safe choice, of course). Mushy is not really a favourite. There needs to be some diversity in it (f.e. eating something like plain yoghurt without fruits or anything in it is iffy), but nothing overwhelming

He does yoga. Or meditation. Or both?? Something something get your head cleared a bit before you start your day. He likes the routine of it

He takes care of his hands very frequently, seeing as he works with them a lot and doesn't like them even just feeling dirty, he keeps his fingernails very short because he doesn't like to get dirt or grime to get stuck under them

He is a SHAMELESS flirt when drunk.

Suna Rintaro

He does a lot of stretches. He likes the convenience of staying flexible, and it's a good routine to ground himself!

Similar to Sakusa getting dry hands, Suna uses chapstick pretty much religiously. Having chapped lips gives him a pretty bad urge to chew off the loose skin

He has multiple nervous habits?, examples are crackling his knuckles and / or generally his joints, fiddling with his hands (maybe dermatophagia?), and also playing with his ear piercings

He digs deep pressure a lot when it comes to his partner. Like, I'd imagine him asking Osamu to literally lay on top of him so he could decompress

Also, he kind of has trouble falling asleep sometimes, but one of his weaknesses is listening to his partner's heartbeat

[jjcanshift]

youtuber dr intro! ｡𖦹°‧

me ── .✦

name; Javreet Bajwa (meaning; trustworthy, loyal) nickname(s); Javi gender; female age; 20 birthday; Sep 8, 2003 height; 5'6 sexuality; straight MBTI; INTJ

birth place; California, USA currently living; Los Angeles, USA ethnicity; Indian-American (specifically Pakistani-Punjabi) occupation; youtuber, streamer, content creator in general

Appearance;

Just my cr self with a few changes (see below)

Features;

piercings; lobe x3, helix on the left ear, orbital on both heterochromia; right eye dark brown and left eye a really light brown Moles; two above my top lip and one under the bottom one to the right, one on the left side of my nose bridge, and a bunch more scattered on my body (one of the only things I've kept from my cr self 😭) I have a spotty-ish birthmark that travels down my right leg all the way to my foot I also have canines that are longer than the rest of my teeth (I looove sharp teeth like I go batshit crazy)

relationships ── .✦

dad; Kuljinder Bajwa (meaning; soul of the lineage) mom; Navpreet Bajwa (meaning; new love) little brother; Balraj Bajwa (meaning; strong king/mighty ruler) s/o; no one specified but I will bag a baddie for sure

(can you tell I like when names have meanings)

pet ── .✦

yes, I have a pet tiger. I made it so it's normal for people to have 'unusual' pets in my dr. People are walking around with orangutans on their backs and shit everywhere

name; Raja (means king cuz he's spoiled asl) breed; Bengal Tiger rescue age; 4 months, my precious baby birthday; April 13 2024 personality; he's a lazy ass like his mama but gets really hyper at random times during the day and idk why funfact; when I stream, chat calls him anything that starts with 'r' BUT his name (racecar, rhapsody, rose toy, Rengoku, Roronoa Zoro, Rubeus, like that one bertholt bit in the AOT fandom)

trivia ── .✦

All my users on social media are @ Javi Bajwa

I mostly do lifestyle, digital art, and sometimes gaming content

I currently have 5M subs on yt and 6.6M followers on tt

The most popular edit of me has 7.8M likes and is to House of Balloons by The Weeknd; the editor's user is jxviluv

I'm a close friend of the Sturniolo triplets and hang out at their house a lot

The whole 'great indian shift' bullshit doesn't happen and Indian people have always been seen as a socially acceptable race cuz ppl looooove to be racist towards us !!!

I'm not shipped with anyone in edits or overly sexualised or anything cuz I feel like that's just a weird vision to who I am as a person

I am uncannily good at dancing tiktoks

this took like 3 hours help

[sewing-elven-maid]

War banners requests: best to worst according to Molinde - Nolofinwean version

And this is once again from Molinde's notes, but this time it's ✨the Nolofinweans✨

So, best to worst.

Aredhel: exactly like Celegorm. The only thing she will insist is that the banner is white - from a seamstress' POV it's the worst decision ever, but she is a Princess of the Noldor. And she pays. Most of the times these banners are used on hunts, tho, and she lives somewhere in Beleriand that's protected or so she says.

Maeglin: like mother like son. Though the banners must be black and not white. The banner will have a mole and some stars. Reasonable. Polite. Very reserved, have to pry out the words by force sometimes.

Argon: He is alright. Does not ask for so many stars. Actually very chill. A pleasure to have in the workshop. Probably the chillest among the Finweans. Would be lovely at family dinners, he has the vibes.

Fingon: another one EXACTLY like Maglor. Music and stars on blue rather than on red. At least this one is the funny one. Must keep away from working tools, or he'll get too brave, try embroidering and ruin everything. Gets special treatment for saving Lord Maedhros. Adding eagle motifs on everything after that. Can be reasoned and calmed down if Maedhros is there.

Turgon: the fucking STARS MANIAC. Stars everywhere. All shapes of stars. Banners MUST be blue. Subpar number of stars is unacceptable. You have to count all of the bloody stars. Other than that he is a reasonable guy. Wish we knew where the fuck he lives so we can stop delivering stuff near Nan Elmoth, or to Nargothrond. King Finrod in particular is getting quite crossed about having King Turgon's stuff delivered in Nargothrond. Payment schedule is perfect tho.

Fingolfin: not as bad as Feanor, but very close. He likes thinking he is oh-so-different from his half brother, but in fact they are the same person. He is a micromanaging maniac. He will stay there like a barnacle to a rock until the work is done and has received his blessings. Will be very distracting throughout the process by asking ALL of the questions. From Molinde's notes: "PLEASE do NOT show him this, he will have my head on a pike just like Feanor, but he will have BUREAUCRACY attached to it and I DO NOT want that".

[tzyuki]

[ 박성훈 ] THE WAY THINGS GO ꒰ P.SH x F!READER

003. coolest girl | smau + written (947 wrds)

IN WHICH ✶ — y/n returns to korea after three years of college due to her grandmother being too sick and unable to care for herself. she transfers to hybe university for her senior year, bumping into a bunch of her old school friends. but once she bumps into her best friend of 7 years she’s unrecognizable to him due to the fact they haven’t seen nor talked to each other in 4 years. she can’t remember how to say his name to call out for him, or even remember how many moles he had on his face.

“WOOOO!” Y/n clapped and cheered as the home team scored. “Do you always go to school games?” Y/n asked Chaewon. “Not always, when Sunghoon played hockey his freshman year I went to a lot of them but when we drifted apart we stopped talking and he quit.” Chaewon said as she nodded her head.

“He played? I didn’t know he played hockey.” Y/n’s eyebrow furrowed. “He was just fooling around on the rink and the coach saw him…it was when the year just started and you had left for America. He started to skate again because he “was bored” I called bullshit.” Chaewon did finger quotations.

Sunghoon grew up figure skating. Y/n was always there to watch his routines and practices, but when Y/n started to take an interest in dance she convinced Sunghoon to try it to help with his technique. He ended up falling in love with dancing. It was a hard decision for him to make, but with Y/n there with him he enjoyed it. For college, Sunghoon would take up Dance…and Y/n would take up Music Performance…all the way across the world.

He did hockey because at least he’d still be on ice, just not doing beautiful routines. Instead fighting for a puck with a team of other guys. In a way, it was his coping mechanism, because with dance it was Y/n’s and his thing. With ice skating, it was his own thing. On the rink, all he could focus on was winning. On stage, all he could think of was dancing with her.

“Oh,” Y/n’s face faltered. “So he stopped skating completely now?” Y/n loved Sunghoon’s dancing skills, she was happy he found a new interest in dance of course, but skating was what made her like him so much…it’s where she saw the truest form of him.

“Yeah, he mainly dances now.” Chaewon put her attention back to the game before suddenly bringing her head back to Y/n. “Oh! he does the holiday festivals so you’ll definitely see him every time you guys have a performance.”

“Sometimes they even dance to a live band, maybe they’ll ask you to play the guitar for them.”

Y/n thought about how that’d be. Y/n playing the guitar on stage whilst Sunghoon dances to it, it’d be amazing.

—

“Do you want to go to the after party?” Chaewon asked as the two walked down the stadium stairs. “There’s an after party?” Y/n asked. “Yeah, almost every win they get there’s an after party. It’s at the team's house.”

“Do we have to be invited?” Y/n and Chaewon tried their best to stick close to each other, worried they’d get separated. “No, the guys are chill. Everyone’s welcome…” Chaewon was sticking her head out everywhere, trying to find a certain someone.

Suddenly someone bumped into the back of them. “Shit—Sorry!” The boy gasped. “Chaewon! You haven’t been to one of our games in a while, last year you only went to two.” The boy slightly pouted.

“Hi, you must be the transfer girl.” The boy stuck his hand out to Y/n. “I’m Ej,” He shook the girl's hand with excitement. “I’m Y/n.” Y/n smiled at Ej.

“Are you guys going to the after party?” Nicholas asked the two. Y/n could tell Chaewon was screaming on the inside. “Yeah, we’re going.” Chaewon said in the most cool way she could.

“Cool, I’ll see you there.” Nicholas said, looking directly at Chaewon.

Y/n shoved her phone into her back pocket, taking a few deep breaths as she walked to Sunghoon. The boy looked frantically to Heeseung, who was clearly high…and not helping the latter.

“Sunghoon, hi!” Y/n said, in a calm tone. “Hi…Y/n!” Sunghoon tried to act a little confused and dumb. “Sunghoon…do you really not know or are you just playing around?” Y/n asked.

At first she thought Sunghoon was just being kind, waving to the new girl with no idea who she was. But for the past three weeks has he still not recognized the girl he had been saying hi to?

“It’s me, Y/n. Baek Y/n.” Y/n said, a little hurt was heard in her voice. “Oh, yeah. I know!” Sunghoon said, clearly acting cool.

“Oh. Okay—uhm. I’ll see you around then…I guess.” Y/n’s voice faltered a little. She didn’t know Sunghoon would be so nonchalant about her return.

She walked through bodies trying to find where she had left Chaewon, saying “Sorry” here and there.

“Sorry.” Y/n said as she bumped into this guy's shoulder. “Y/n! Hey!” Jay grabbed her shoulder, recognizing the girl. “I heard you were back, I haven’t seen you around campus so I didn’t get the chance to welcome you back!”

“I miss you.” Jay dragged out as he hugged the girl, picking her off her feet a little.

“Jake! This is Y/n! She’s the coolest girl I knew in high school!” Jay shouted as he gently shook the girl as he had his arm around her.

“Hi, I’m Jake!” Y/n noticed his heavy accent. “Hi, I’m Y/n.” Y/n smiled at the boy.

“How are you? It's been like what—five years? I miss you man!” Jay asked. “I’m glad someone missed me.” Y/n joked.

“Oh, Sunghoon? Don’t worry about him, he’s just trying to play it cool. When he realized who you were he freaked out…don’t tell him I told you that.” He whispered the last part into her ear.

“Okay, got it.” Y/n laughed. She had missed the presence of her old friends.

—

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[offseason-if]

Formal character introduction post with more info on the romance options' personalities, ages, appearances, and what tropes you can expect from their routes.

Noel Watanabe [RO, they/them, 20]: Since your first meeting when you were both 12, where the judges scored you one point higher than them, Noel has claimed themselves as your 'rival'. They certainly play the part— well sometimes. Between bringing you food after practice and completely ignoring you, their hot-and-cold personality practically gives you whiplash. When they heard you were quitting the sport, they were enraged. Will you dig deeper into your relationship with your so called rival?

Appearance: Ivory skin, long straight black hair just past their chest, green eyes, a mole under their right eye, septum piercing, left eyebrow piercing, multiple upper ear piercings, almost always wearing eyeliner, 6'0. Noel's fashion style is very much dark academia. Turtlenecks, blazers, ties, combat boots, trench coats. They tend to settle for more laid back clothes (long sleeves and leggings) if they're just practicing all day.

Personality: Noel is just what you expect someone who's been playing a sport for 13 years to act like. They're abrasive, competitive, and confident. Growing up with parents who only built tension through passive aggressive comments rather the communication certainly didn't help— but that's neither here nor there, at least in Noel's opinion. What? No, of course they've never been to therapy, why do you ask?

Romance Tropes: rivals to lovers, reluctant love, afraid to commit, slow burn

Hallie/Harlow Mitchell [RO, gender selectable, 18]: After deciding to take a gap year against their parents wishes, H finds themselves spending their (would be) fall semester in Illinois. You first run into them, quite literally. A blur of bright orange knocking you flat on your back isn't he way you were looking to get your mind off of your problems but it worked. And if it hadn't the sound of H profusely apologizing certainly did. They seem to follow you everywhere you allow them to after that. Will their attempts to motivate you to skate again lead to something more?

Appearance: Tan skin, blue eyes, dyed bright orange hair, freckles, 5'8. Hallie has chin length length hair with bangs and small braids sprinkled in along with assorted hair clips, she doesn't wear makeup often but when she does it's in bright and bold tones. Harlow has his hair styled in a grunge perm that just reaches the end of his neck. H has a streetwear style; graphic tees, windbreakers, cargo shorts, crocs, (they have so many jibbitz) baggy jeans, sneakers.

Personality: What one imagines when they think of 'southern hospitality'. They're charming, outgoing, and kind. H would rather talk to someone in class than take the time to work on a project; though now in a bad way. School just never came quite easy to them, but they do make up for that in quite literally all other aspects of their life sports, cooking, art. You name it they've done it. Well, apart from ice skating.

Romance Tropes: meet cute, love at first sight, friends to lovers, obvious love

Sadie/Spencer Williams [RO, gender selectable, 19]: Your best friend since your first year in high school. They've seen all the parts of you that you keep hidden from others, for better or for worse. While never picking up ice skating themselves S has never missed one of your games as long as they've known you. S has always been loyal and supportive of you, almost to a fault, but that all changes when you tell them you're giving up skating. Will you find out why your normally laid back best friend is passionate about getting you to skate again?

Appearance: Ebony skin, dark brown eyes, chocolate brown hair, unblemished skin, ear piercing, beauty mark above their lip, 5'5. Sadie has her hair styled in butterfly locks just reaching her mid-back, usually in a half down half up style, she usually wears makeup consisting of light earthy tones. Spencer has his hair styled in twists just going past his chin. S has a cozy type of fashion style; sweaters, corduroy pants, cardigans, turtle necks, sweater vests, knitted socks, platform shoes.

Personality: The perfect picture of an introvert. S is quiet, comforting, and laidback. S is very much a closed book, trusting their small trusted circle with knowing things about them and not keen on opening up to others. If you are close to S, you know that they're quite artistic. Whether that's drawing, painting, pottery, photography, or anything else they enjoy expressing their creativity that way.

Romance Tropes: friends to lovers, everyone can see it, requited unrequited love, slow burn

Valerio 'Val' Diaz [RO, he/him, 20]: Coach Diaz had introduced the two of you after your third lesson, convinced you would become quick friends. He was right, of course, at least for a while. Valerio was obliviously quite a bright kid; helping you with homework during breaks at practice, studying with you before lunch, spending your sleepovers going over multiplication tables rather than telling secrets. It was something you'd always admired about him until— well, you'd rather not get into it. Your old friend seems to think otherwise, if the speed he comes back into your life after hearing about your plans to quit skating is anything to go by. Will you be able to forgive and let your old friend (or more) back into your life?

Appearance: Light brown skin, short curly dark brown hair just reaching his shoulders usually in a ponytail or bun, hazel eyes, small scar on his forehead partially covered by his hair, glasses, 5'4. Valerio has a casual style of clothes; crewnecks, hoodies, sweatpants, basketball shorts, t-shirts, socks with sandals, sneakers.

Personality: After one conversation with Valerio it's obvious they view their education above all. Smart, ambitious, and mature. Valerio is not one to prioritize play over work. From student council to volunteer work, Valerio was extremely busy during high school, even more so now that he's in college. Majoring in criminal law certainly takes up his already busy schedule. Though, the little boy everyone once knew is still there somewhere.

Romance Tropes: childhood friends, second chance, exes to lovers, childhood marriage pact, childhood friends to lovers

[insolemi]

Cate x wheelchair user au when

—👁️‍🗨️

hii !! right now 👀??

i did this in the style of how i did my gf!cate headcanons so i hope that's what you wanted

also, i seriously hope that i did this justice, but if i didn't please let me know and i'll adjust/change it immediately

shoulder massage, shoulder massage, shoulder massage

please let her massage your shoulders if you're up for it bc she loves to do it

if you like to read, read to her !! she loves it, loves listening to your voice, loves laying in bed with you and being close to you

loves being able to trace her fingers over any freckles or moles or any feature of yours and will do it while you're sleeping bc she can't help herself, this goes well with the staring problem i mentioned in this post bc she HAS ONE

it's canon sorry not sorry (canon is what i make it)

if you like to decorate your wheelchair and/or other mobility aids in any way, please look absolutely no further than directly at your side

cate LOVES decorating anything she can get her hand on (including you, so I hope you like jewelry and clothes) and she’s got an eye for decorating (at least she thinks she does) and she has more scattered decorative items like scarves and various stickers and decorative tape rolls than she knows what to do with

will also spend a lot of time with you looking for seasonal decorations or functional ones! cupholders, bags, covers for the back of your chair

like I said in my gf!cate post, she is touchy, hand on you at all points in time

hand on your shoulder or arm or knee or hands everywhere you go bc she cannot contain the affection she has for you in her body and she must express it all times

she’s a forehead kisser too, I’m sorry I don’t make the rules but it’s the truth

don’t call her clingy unless you want to see the personification of puppy dog eyes

it kind of boils down to you being the only person she ever wants to freely touch, sans gloves, so you are always the main focus of her attention/affection

she is incredibly attentive, knows everything you like and don’t like and how you prefer to do everything bc she just pays attention to you and what you say to her and the things you don’t say

facial expressions or soft noises of disagreement are all cataloged into her mind immediately and filed away under “very important”

cate knows what it’s like to not want people touching you or your things, but if you’re okay with other people pushing your wheelchair for you (and only then), then again, look no further

cate is more than happy to help you out if your arms or tired or you straight up just don’t wanna push yourself anymore 

at first, she is sometimes worried that she’s overstepping or making you uncomfortable doing that and she will always be cognizant of wanting to respect you and your boundaries bc you don’t need her help and she knows that, she just loves making things easier for you if she can

as such, she is always making sure everywhere you two have plans to go to is accessible, she wants both of you to have as much fun as you want with zero concern and she is incredibly happy that she can do that for you

following the theme of wanting to help, she will absolutely learn any new skills that might help you out

if that’s adjusting parts of your chair when you need it done or helping you transition between spaces to make it easier on you, anything along those lines

she's there

her whole entire face lights up when she sees you bc it’s YOU !! i'm talking bright smile, wide eyes, the whole nine, you literally derail her train of thought

if there’s ever anything bothering you, she is sat

she wants to know what’s going on and why it bothers you bc she wants to know if she can help, and even if she can’t, she just wants to listen to you and hug you afterwards

she can’t cook, so i hope you can bc if you can’t, you both better have doordash on your phones bc she will set the kitchen on fire

she’s very mindful of things like your pace when you two are out and about together, she matches speed and loves using the chance to talk about anything and everything 

she is very chatty, loves to talk about random topics like time zones or space travel or the monsters inc. cinematic universe

however, she does not tolerate stupid questions from people who aren’t you and especially not about you or the both of you

not to say she’s confrontational bc she isn’t (at least overly so) but she does deflect unwanted attention easily and if a person is being rather persistent in bothering you or the both of you, she can and will use her power on them to get them to fuck off 

again, referring back to my gf post, cate loves you so much that sometimes it’s overwhelming and there is not anything in the world that could change that bc half of the time she’s doing anything, you are all she can think about and she would never have it any other way