#a disaster dork! I love him

[glorious-spoon]

i love eddie diaz with all my heart, but it's the kind of love you have for a wet cat who's trying desperately to pretend that they Did That On Purpose, and that's why i simply cannot get on board with the idea that he is in any way smooth

[just-a-lazy-person]

Of course your fearless vigilante would run away from the shock of his own feelings spilling from his lips. Of course your smooth-talking lawyer would become tongue tied, unable to form a coherent sentence after blurting out the words that you, yourself, had been wanting to say since the first time he kissed you.

God, he was such a dork.

Love this description of Matt.

Less Than 5 Minutes

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: Whoops, Matt drops the L word for the first time on accident.

Trigger warnings: none. Enjoy the fluff.

Masterlist

"What?"

Matt froze above you, hand still in your hair, as if your sudden question had startled him. For a second it looked like he was going to respond, before he snapped his mouth shut, eyes briefly shutting.

Your grip on the coffee cup in your hands faltered ever so slightly as you stared up at him, eyes squinted in confusion. You lowered the cup from your mouth, your mind struggling to comprehend what he had just said.

He shook his head jerkily and didn't say anything, instead choosing to quietly take a step back from you, panic plain across his face.

"What did you just say?" You asked, louder this time.

Matt swallowed loudly, his hand finally lowering from your hair before he briefly ran it down his face, scratching his jaw.

"Uh...nothing. I didn't say anything."

"You definitely said something."

Abruptly, Matt took another step back from you, turning sharply on his heel and reaching for his cane that he had put on the table next to your door the night before. He slipped his glasses on, the red lenses cutting off the vulnerability in his face from your view, probably knowing that you were becoming a near expert at reading him. Snatching up his briefcase, Matt gave you a bright smile, one that you knew was false and lacking the warmth of the smiles he normally sent your way.

His reaction to your innocent question was curious, and your head tilted to the side as you observed him from your seat at the kitchen table.

"Goodbye. That's all. I was just...I was just saying goodbye," Matt mumbled as he unfolded his cane. The pieces snapped into a straight line in front of him. You eyed the way his knuckles whitened as he grasped it tightly, but you didn't say anything.

"OK, Matt. I hope you have a good day at work," you shrugged, confused at his abrupt departure. You didn't miss the way he yanked the door open, nearly ramming the corner into toe of his shoe. He definitely wasn't someone you would classify as clumsy, and yet here he was, almost stumbling on his own two feet, trying to escape your apartment as soon as he could.

"I'll see you later, sweetheart." And then he was gone, door latching tightly behind him, your apartment now silent except for the air conditioning running quietly in the background.

What on Earth....?

You stared at your door, blinking in utter bewilderment, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. Less than 45 seconds ago, he had been teasing you about your lack of ability to function before 7am, quickly adjusting his tie before leaning down to kiss you on your forehead goodbye while you sipped on your second cup of coffee. You had grumbled out something that didn't even begin to resemble a word, and he had laughed quietly into your hair.

Have a good day, sweetheart. Love you.

Oh.

Oh.

He had said...love.

Such a small, simple sentence. Such a small, simple sentence, that actually wasn't simple at all, when you thought about it.

You hadn't exchanged the words yet, but he had pressed them into your skin without a second thought. He had changed everything without even thinking about it, as if the words had always fallen naturally from his lips.

This...was huge.

And you had ruined the moment with a sleep-addled brain that had struggled to comprehend what he had said until he was already out your door.

The words had been sudden and unexpected, even on his end, it seems, as you recalled the shock on his face. But that didn't make them any less welcome, any less treasured. A wide, beaming smile broke out across your lips, the warmth of his words spreading through your chest like wildfire.

Of course your fearless vigilante would run away from the shock of his own feelings spilling from his lips. Of course your smooth-talking lawyer would become tongue tied, unable to form a coherent sentence after blurting out the words that you, yourself, had been wanting to say since the first time he kissed you.

God, he was such a dork.

Still grinning like an idiot, you slammed your coffee mug on the counter, liquid splashing out, as you raced over to your window. With shaking, excited hands, you wretched it open and stuck your head out.

"I love you, too, you ridiculous man." You didn't bother shouting it, knowing his ears would pick it up as clearly as if he was standing right next to you.

Matt's startled laughter floated up to you from the sidewalk below, his head turned in your direction from where he stood at the crosswalk on his way to work.

Two minutes later, you were throwing your door wide open, leaning into him as he stepped over the threshold and pressed his lips fiercely to yours.

His cane was folded up and placed back on the table next to your door, where it remained the rest of the day.

[galaxymagitech]

I think the fact that Tim’s childhood was actually fairly normal makes things funnier, actually.

He was raised in boarding schools and a bit of a latchkey kid, but he knew his parents loved him and he was supervised the majority of the year. He has normal interests, like skateboarding and superheroes. He has plenty of friends and meets up with them outside of school and everything. Even when he has to go to a new school, he finds a friend group. He dislikes school and he’s a dork. He has had multiple girlfriends, a homoerotic friendship, and a boyfriend. He’s intended to be the reader-insert, the Everyman, the guy that teenage boy readers identify with. As far as Batman comics go, he’s practically Normal McNormal Face on a surface level.

He also:

Responds to a temporary lack of adult supervision by stalking Batman with a camera to prove that Batman is being reckless. How did Tim know Batman was being reckless in the first place? Who knows! Maybe he just stalked him recreationally first.

Travels to New York City alone to break into Dick Grayson’s apartment.

Tries to clone his dead best friend (the other half of said homoerotic friendship).

Climbs out the window in the middle of a conversation with his guidance counselor.

Fakes an entire uncle and hires an actor to play him because he wants to live independently.

Runs away to a quarantined disaster zone, resulting in a huge manhunt.

Deduces Batman’s identity at age 9 and keeps it a secret (look, 9-year-olds are chatty).

Falls asleep on a rollercoaster, in the middle of a stakeout, and other inopportune places like the freaking dormouse from Alice in Wonderland.

Desperately attempts to keep the family together in Gotham War to a frankly disturbing degree.

Routinely ends up in random countries without adults, but it’s fine because he’s Competent (TM).

Hero worships Dick Grayson so hard he literally steals his identity.

Like, no, Tim’s insanity is not the result of cartoonish childhood neglect. Which means…

He’s just like that.

[hynzsn]

💭 HOW THEY ACT WHEN THEY’RE NEEDY ★

☆ txt x male reader

-> OT5 x boyfriend!reader

꩜ .ᐟ fluff, headcanons

♡︎♡︎♡︎ likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated ♡︎♡︎♡︎

₊˚ ꒰ 𖦹﹕CHOI YEONJUN ꒱ ˚₊

— king of playful neediness. he’s not afraid to be direct.

— loves physical touch -> lots of clinging, cuddles, and demands for kisses

— sends you a barrage of pouty seflies when you’re not giving him attention

📱 -> from junnie 🧡: [4 photo attachments] baaabe, i miss you 🥺

— calls you to dramatically sigh into the phone

— shows up at your place unannounced with your favorite takeout

-> “feed me?” he asks with puppy dog eyes.

— can’t be away from you, not even for 5 seconds whenever he’s in your presence

-> you’re engrossed in a game, controller gripped tight, when you feel a shift on the couch. yeonjun drapes himself over your back, arms snaking around your waist. "babeee," he whines, voice muffled by your shirt. "pay attention to me." "jun, i’m in the middle of something," you chuckle, trying to focus on the screen. he nuzzles his face into your neck, placing a trail of kisses along your jaw. "something much more handsome is right here." you can't help but laugh, turning in his arms to meet his gaze. "you’re such a dork," you say, but the fondness in your voice is evident. "your dork," he corrects, pulling you in for a kiss. "now, where were we?"

— steals your hoodies and wears them around the dorm

— he’d call you during his break from practice, voice breathless and full of excitement as he recounts the choreography. but then he'd pause, a softer tone taking over -> "i miss you," he'd admit, a hint of vulnerability in his voice. "wish you were here to see this in person."

— sends you thirst traps at random times in the day

📱 -> from junnie 🧡: [50 photo attachments] oops, my hand slipped and i accidentally took 50 photos of my abs… thoughts?

— gets needier after performances, craving validation. calls you immediately after getting off stage -> “did you see that? was i cool? tell me i was cool."

— becomes surprisingly shy and flustered when overwhelmed with feelings -> mumbles into your shoulder, “you’re just... really fucking important to me, okay?"

— gets needier when he's feeling insecure about his skills. asks for your opinion on every little thing -> “does this hand movement look okay? should i change it?"

— expresses affection through nicknames and pet names. cycles through increasingly ridiculous terms of endearment -> “hey there, my little cutie snuggle muffin~" “what’s my sweet honey bunny doing tonight?” “my little sugary dumpling.”

— gets dramatically pouty when you have to leave. he will cling to your leg like his life depends on it -> “noooo, don't go! i’ll wither away without you!"

₊˚ ꒰ 𖦹﹕CHOI SOOBIN ꒱ ˚₊

— prone to quite neediness -> gives you those big sad eyes and lets his actions do all the talking

— craves your attention but doesn’t actually know how ask for it directly

— expects you to know what he wants by the way he looks at you

— loves quality time -> lots of movie nights, cooking disasters, and quiet evenings spent just enjoying each other’s company

— follows you around like a lost puppy

— bcomes unexpectedly clingy in public. he’ll hold your hand or links arms everywhere, even in crowded places -> “i might get lost without you.”

— sends you cute, slightly awkward texts throughout the day, hinting at his need for your presence.

📱 -> from soobie boobie 🤍: what are you up to? :) just thinking about you and wanted to say hi.

— backhug attacks when you’re doing chores. uses his height to his advantage when seeking attention. rests his chin on your head, back-hugging you -> “this is my new favorite position. don’t move."

— gets extra clingy when he’s stressed or tired

— unbeknownst to him, he pouts adorably whenever you try to get up in the morning -> pulls you back down to lay with him

-> “can’t we just stay in bed all day?” he mumbles into your neck before leaving little kisses. “five more minutes. please?”

— always wants to be the little spoon

— he’d call you late at night, voice low and soothing as he tells you about his day. he wouldn't explicitly ask you to stay on the line, but the way he lingers on your every word, the soft sighs that escape him, speak volumes.

₊˚ ꒰ 𖦹﹕CHOI BEOMGYU ꒱ ˚₊

— chaotic, and needy type -> becomes playful, extra loud and way too hyper

— has absolutely no chill when he wants attention

— spams your phone with increasingly ridiculous selfies until you respond

📱 -> from b-bear 🤎: day 37 of being ignored: i’ve befriended the dust bunnies under my bed. they understand me."

— spam calls you with dumb jokes until you pay attention to him

📱 -> from b-bear 🤎: ya! stop ignoring me and love meee!

📱 -> from b-bear 🤎: babe

📱 -> from b-bear 🤎: hey

📱 -> from b-bear 🤎: hey hey hey

📱 -> from b-bear 🤎: answer meee!! i’m bored :(

📱 -> from b-bear 🤎: wanna hear a joke?

📱 -> from b-bear 🤎: what do you call a fake noodle?

📱 -> from b-bear 🤎: an impasta!!!! hahaha

📱 -> from b-bear 🤎: come on that was funny

📱 -> from b-bear 🤎: fine, be that way.

📱 -> from b-bear 🤎: i miss youuuuu

📱 -> from b-bear 🤎: [photo attachment] dressed up for you today, loveee! bet you wanna come over and smother me in kisses 👀

— starts play fighting with you out of nowhere

— steals your phone to make you chase him

— leaves a trail of clothes leading to the bedroom

— flops dramatically onto the bed or couch, “i’m dying of loneliness!”

— sends you memes at 3am

📱 -> from b-bear 🤎: u up?

📱 -> from b-bear 🤎: [6 photo attachments] found these in my camera roll. guess my fav?

— whines dramatically whenever you have to leave

— surprises you with impromptu dance performances

— becomes a human octopus when he's feeling clingy. wraps himself around you like a koala -> “i’m not letting go until you promise to love me forever!"

— invents elaborate schemes to spend time with you. shows up at your place in a trench coat -> “i’m a secret agent and you're my new partner. our mission? date night."

— gets extra bratty and playful when he's craving affection. will start a pillow fight out of nowhere -> “fight me, coward! the winner gets unlimited kisses!"

— sends you voice messages of him dramatically singing love songs

[03:00 AM] 📱 -> from b-bear 🤎: [audio note] *clicks play* “AND IIIIIIII WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOUUUU”

— becomes ridiculously competitive for your attention. challenges other members -> “bet i can make y/n laugh harder than you can!"

— uses his aegyo powers shamelessly when he's feeling needy -> pouts and bats his eyelashes: "pwease give beomie some wuv? 🥺👉👈"

— resorts to terrible puns and dad jokes to make you smile -> "are you a parking ticket? because you've got FINE written all over you! ...love me please."

— bombards you with random questions when he misses you -> "if you were a potato, what kind would you be? i think you'd be a sweet potato. because you're sweet. and i like you. a lot."

— instigates playful arguments just for the banter -> “fight me on this: cereal is a soup. i will die on this hill... unless you distract me with cuddles."

₊˚ ꒰ 𖦹﹕KANG TAEHYUN ꒱ ˚₊

— the tsundere of neediness… at least in his mind he is

— acts aloof at first but the second you pull away, he’s right back by your side, grumbling about how clingy you are

— loves acts of service -> surprise him with his favorite meal, or a back massage after a long day

📱 -> from taetae 💕: i’m not saying i miss you or anything… but what are you doing right now?

— casually invites himself over to your place

-> you’re sprawled out on the couch, watching a movie. taehyun’s got his arm draped casually over your shoulders, but you can feel the tension in his body. “you good, tae?” you ask, turning to face him. “hm? yeah, why?” he replies, eyes glued to the tv screen. “you seem… tense,” you observe, gently massaging his shoulder. he shrugs off your touch, though you notice the way his gaze flickers to your hand for a fleeting second. “i’m fine. focus on the movie.”

-> five minutes later, he’s the one snuggled into your side, head resting on your chest. “don’t get any ideas,” he mumbles, voice muffled by your shirt. “you’re just comfortable.”

— late at night is when his walls truly crumble. he’ll call you at ungodly hours just to talk, his voice husky with sleep and vulnerability. he might even confess his deepest fears and insecurities, things he'd never admit to in broad daylight.

— gets surprisingly really needy at night, particularly when in bed. he’ll wrap his arms around you tightly and pull you into his chest. “fucking missed you…” he’ll mumble, before pulling you in for a deep and needy kiss out of nowhere.

— he’d call you to complain about something trivial, like the long line at the coffee shop or the annoying song stuck in his head. but you can hear the underlying need in his voice, the way he draws out his words, as if trying to prolong the conversation.

— he’ll never admit it, but he secretly loves cuddling. however, he'll never initiate. instead, he'll strategically position himself closer and closer to you on the couch until you inevitably give in and let him snuggle up against you. then, he'll act like it was your idea all along -> “you looked cold," he'd mumble, burying his face in your neck. "don’t get any ideas."

— he’ll "accidentally" brush his hand against yours while you're walking side-by-side. he might even "trip" and "fall" into your lap, muttering a quick "clumsy me" as if it wasn't a calculated maneuver.

— he subconsciously mirrors your actions when he's feeling particularly needy. you take a sip of your drink? he’s suddenly parched. you lean back on the couch? he’s adjusting his position to be closer to you.

— he’ll tease you mercilessly when he's feeling insecure or needing reassurance -> “you sure you wanna go out looking like that? don’t want to blind anyone with your handsomeness." it’s his way of saying -> “you look amazing, and i’m lucky you're mine."

₊˚ ꒰ 𖦹﹕HUENING KAI ꒱ ˚₊

— adorable, and affectionate -> isn’t afraid to show his neediness. he’s a natural cuddler and loves showering you with love.

— gets extra touchy when he’s feeling needy -> always finding excuses to touch you, brush against you, or like your cheek -> “y/n, your hair looks messy. let me fix it for you~” he then proceeds to play with your hair for 20 minutes

— has a habit of “accidentally” leaving his stuff at your place so he has an excuse to come over -> “oh no, i forgot my favorite hoodie here again. guess i’ll have to stay the night, huh?”

— gets extra giggly and flustered

— loves giving and receiving gifts, so expect small, thoughtful presents that remind him of you.

-> "y/n! y/n! look what i got!" he exclaims, holding up a plushie that looks suspiciously like the one you won for him at a carnival a few weeks ago. "kai, that's adorable," you laugh, pulling him into a hug. "but what's the occasion?" "no occasion," he replies, burying his face in your neck. "just wanted to give you something because i love you." you melt at his words, returning his embrace with equal fervor. "you’re the sweetest," you murmur, pressing a kiss to his hair.

— expresses his neediness through random acts of service. shows up at your workplace with homemade lunch -> “i just happened to make too much food, so..."

— shows up at your workplace with homemade lunch: "I just happened to make too much food, so..."

— sends you the cutest, most random texts throughout the day, just to let you know he’s thinking of you.

— sends you cute animal videos

📱 -> from ningning 🤍: [video attachment] this made me think of you hehe >.<

— always wants to hold your hand or link arms

— gives you random little gifts and trinkets

— writes you silly love songs on his keyboard

— he’d call you during his gaming sessions, his excited shouts and giggles filling your ears. he’d narrate his every move, asking for your advice and celebrating his victories with you. "y/n, you're the best good luck charm!" he'd exclaim, his joy contagious. "i knew i could win with you listening."

— has a tendency to stress-cuddle when he's nervous about performances or big events -> "can we just stay like this for five more minutes? you’re my lucky charm."

— becomes extra needy around holidays or special occasions. starts planning elaborate dates weeks in advance -> "this valentine's day is gonna be epic, just you wait!"

— loves to sing for you when he's feeling especially affectionate. serenades you with cheesy love songs in public, complete with dramatic gestures

— gets flustered easily when caught being needy, often trying to cover it up with jokes -> "what? no, i didn't come all the way here just to see you. i... uh... really needed to borrow a... spoon?"

— has a secret folder of your photos and messages that he looks at when he misses you. accidentally revealed this during a vlive -> “ah, shit- i mean, shoot! you weren't supposed to see that!"

— becomes extra playful and mischievous when craving attention. starts a silly dance battle in the middle of your living room -> “bet you can't beat my aegyo moves!"

— gets a bit jealous when you pay attention to others, but tries to play it cool. usually pouts and mumbles -> “I mean, i guess yeonjun-hyung's jokes are funnier than mine..."

[fclsebnnyodair]

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . loser stiles and his out-of-his-league pretty girlfriend.

pairing: stiles stilinski x fem!reader.

summary: when stiles finally asks you to be his girlfriend and you say yes, he can’t believe it —and he’s not the only one. you two come in very different fonts. but, you’re so quick to prove him and his self-deprecation that you like him, fully and shamelessly.

warnings: used of y/n… im sorry. a little fluff? reader being a menace and the end of stiles life (in a good way).

a/n: i tried my best to be funny and make it a little longer. a mother needs to feed her kids. based on this req <3

stiles stilinski had spent a solid seven-teen years being a complete and utter dork. a nerd. a disaster in human form. the kind of guy who could tell you, unprompted, that the fear of long words is called hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia but somehow still couldn’t spell “necessary” on the first try.

he was the guy who tripped over air, made obscure pop culture references no one asked for, and had a deeply unhealthy relationship with sarcasm.

so, naturally, when you—actual goddess, the prettiest face in beacon hills, social butterfly extraordinaire—agreed to date him, stiles was convinced he was being pranked.

“she said yes,” he had told scott the night it happened, voice shaking, hands gripping his best friend’s shoulders like he was trying to transfer the shock through sheer physical contact. “she said yes. to me. like, willingly. no coercion. no hostage situation. just… yes.”

scott, ever the supportive best friend, blinked at him. “huh.”

“what do you mean huh?”

“I just—” he rubbed the back of his neck, looking way too amused. “I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but… dude, that’s y/n.”

exactly.

you weren’t just popular. you are the cool kind of popular. the kind that made people want to be around you instead of just tolerating your presence because of high school hierarchy rules.

you had this effortless confidence, this ability to make everyone feel like they belonged—even stiles, who had spent most of his life on the outskirts of social normalcy.

you are the type of person who could go from hanging out with the lacrosse team and his girlfriends to sitting with the theater kids in the same day, and everyone would be happy to have you there. people gravitated towards you.

meanwhile, stiles had spent most of freshman year trying to convince people that his name was, in fact, not short for “stilton” like the cheese.

It didn’t make sense. and yet, somehow, here they were.

dating you was like winning the lottery, except instead of money, stiles got the incomprehensible love and affection of a literal angel.

which was great.

except for the fact that he had no idea how to be cool enough to keep up with you.

“you’re overthinking it,” you told him one day as you sat in your car, legs propped up on the dashboard.

“I always overthink it,” stiles replied. “It’s literally my defining trait.”

you laughed, and god, that laugh. It was the kind of sound that made people pause, made them turn their heads just to see what could possibly be so funny.

“okay, fine,” you said. “then tell me. what’s running through that giant brain of yours right now?”

stiles exhaled dramatically. “alright, let’s start with the obvious. I am a disaster. you are not a disaster. explain.”

you tilted your head, amused. “you really don’t see it, do you?”

“see what?”

you smirked, leaning in a little closer. “you’re kind of amazing, stiles.”

he blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“you make me laugh,” you continued, like you hadn’t just dropped a bomb on his entire worldview. “like, really laugh. you make things interesting. and you care so much about the people around you. I like that.”

stiles stared at you, brain officially malfunctioning. “uh. are you… are you sure you’re not under some kind of supernatural influence?”

you rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder playfully. “just shut up?”

and just like that, he realized something insane. you actually liked him.

not just in a “haha, he’s fun to have around” way. not in a “pity date” way. not even in a “this is a temporary thing before I move on to someone more worthy” way.

you liked him. dorkiness, sarcasm, ADHD-riddled brain and all.

maybe he wasn’t as out of your league as he thought.

still, he spent the next few weeks in a state of perpetual disbelief.

he kept waiting for the moment where you would realize you had made a grave mistake and move on to someone who, well… had the ability to walk in a straight line without tripping over absolutely nothing.

but you didn’t.

In fact, you made it very clear that you were, for some ungodly reason, into him.

like, full-on, public displays of affection into him.

which was insane.

because now, not only did stiles have to deal with his own confusion, but also the confusion of literally everyone else at beacon hills high.

It started with a completely normal lunch. stiles, scott, lydia, and you were all sitting together, as usual, while he rattled off some extremely important information about why the original ‘star wars’ trilogy was superior to the prequels.

“you just have to accept that Jar Jar Binks was a crime against cinema,” stiles was saying, mid-rant, when he felt a hand casually slip into his.

he froze.

the table went silent.

you, completely unbothered, just kept eating your fries, fingers lazily intertwined with his.

scott immediately stopped chewing. lydia raised an eyebrow. somewhere behind them, he was pretty sure he heard jackson choke on his drink.

stiles, being the mature and composed individual that he was, blurted out, “are you—did you—was that on purpose?”

you gave him a deadpan look. “no, stiles, my hand just accidentally fell into yours.”

scott made a choked sound that was very unhelpful.

“I just—” stiles floundered. “you’re—you want to hold my hand? In front of people?”

you smirked. “what, do you want me to sign a permission slip first?”

lydia rolled her eyes. “stiles, stop acting like you just won the lottery.”

“but I did,” he said, eyes still wide. “this is like if someone found bigfoot, but instead of running away, bigfoot started dating them.”

you snorted and leaned closer, whispering, “you’re an idiot.”

and then—just to completely obliterate stiles’s ability to function—you kissed his cheek.

the cafeteria erupted.

all right, maybe “erupted” was an exaggeration. but scott definitely lost all ability to contain himself, because he burst into uncontrollable laughter, clapping stiles on the back so hard he nearly faceplanted into his lunch tray.

jackson muttered something about how the world was officially broken.

and lydia? lydia just sipped her drink and said, “honestly, this might be the funniest thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

stiles, meanwhile, was still sitting there, trying to process the fact that you had just kissed him in front of the entire student body.

“okay,” he breathed. “alright. cool. totally fine.”

you squeezed his hand. “you’re so lucky I can keep up with you.”

“I strongly agree.”

scott shook his head, grinning. “dude. just take the win.”

yeah.

maybe he should.

────୨ৎ────

now stiles had zero business being on the lacrosse team. he was only there because coach finstock occasionally needed a warm body to throw onto the field, and also because scott insisted that he “needed to be included in the team dynamic.”

that was stupid, because stiles was about as useful on the field as a drunk giraffe.

still, here he was, suited up, trying his best to not die.

you were sitting in the stands, chatting with some of the other girls on the cheer squad, but every so often, he caught you watching him.

why on earth would you be looking at him when there were actual athletes running around?

at some point, coach finstock (in a moment of pure insanity) decided to sub stiles in.

naturally, it went horribly.

he got knocked over in under a minute.

hard.

like, wind knocked out of him, stars in his vision hard.

by the time he sat up, still gasping for breath, he vaguely registered that someone was calling his name.

then, suddenly, you were there, pushing past some of the other students on the sidelines, crouching next to him.

“oh my god, are you okay?” you asked, eyes scanning him for any visible injuries.

“you,” stiles wheezed. “just—taking a quick—dirt nap.”

you sighed, shaking your head. “you really shouldn’t be allowed to play this sport.”

“tell that to coach crazy over there,” he muttered.

you rolled your eyes, then—without warning—cupped his face and kissed him.

right there.

on the field.

In front of everyone.

stiles was pretty sure his soul left his body.

by the time you pulled away, he was definitely malfunctioning.

“god,” he managed.

you smirked, brushing some dirt off his jersey. “maybe if I keep doing that, you’ll actually start scoring points.”

scott, who had jogged over at some point, burst out laughing, —again.

“please don’t encourage him,” he told you.

you just shrugged, standing up. “what can I say? I like an underdog.”

stiles, still staring into the middle distance, finally processed what had just happened.

then, very calmly, he said:

“I have no idea what’s going on, but I’m definitely not complaining.”

────୨ৎ────

stiles finally gets it. he gets you. 

It took three months of dating before stiles finally stopped expecting you to give up on him.

because the truth was, you could.

but for some ridiculous, unexplainable reason—

you didn’t want to.

and maybe, just maybe, that was the best part of all.

stiles stilinski had exactly one defense mechanism when faced with overwhelming emotional stimuli:

panic.

pure, unfiltered, high-octane panic.

and you?

you loved it.

you lived for it.

In fact, stiles was about 80% sure that her actual favorite hobby—above reading, music, and being generally awesome—was finding new and creative ways to make him short-circuit.

your weapon of choice?

kissing him.

at random.

without warning.

In the most inconvenient and socially inappropriate moments possible.

────୨ৎ────

stiles was already having a rough day.

coach had made him run extra laps for “being a distraction” (which was not fair, because technically speaking, it was danny who had laughed first).

so there he was, post-practice, dripping in sweat, hair a mess, brain still recovering from almost getting hit in the face with a lacrosse ball, when you materialized out of nowhere.

“hey, loser,” you greeted, leaning against the locker next to his.

stiles jumped about a foot in the air. “jesus—you can’t just sneak up on a guy like that!”

you, completely ignoring him, hummed thoughtfully. “you look cute when you’re sweaty.”

stiles immediately turned red. “I—what—who?”

and before his brain could fully reboot, you leaned in and kissed him.

right there.

In the locker room.

With scott and half the team still standing right there.

stiles froze.

his brain immediately short-circuited.

somewhere in the background, he could hear the distinct sounds of his teammates reacting.

jackson made a disgusted noise.

“seriously? right here?”

danny, ever the neutral observer, just snorted. “I mean, props to her, I do love watching stilinski suffer.”

scott, instead of helping, just shook his head fondly. “dude. just accept it.”

you, for your part, just smirked against stiles’s lips, completely unbothered, and pulled away with a satisfied little hum.

stiles, meanwhile, was still frozen in place.

mouth slightly open.

face burning red.

brain? completely fried.

“did I break you?” you teased, poking his cheek.

stiles let out a strangled sound.

jackson groaned. “oh god, get a room.”

you turned to him, smirking. “jealous?”

jackson scoffed. “not even remotely.”

you shrugged, looping your arm through stiles’s. “good. because I’m not sharing.”

and then you walked off, dragging stiles with you—leaving the entire locker room howling in laughter.

────୨ৎ────

stiles had one sacred rule in life:

the library is a safe space.

the library was for quiet and learning and pretending to do your homework while actually texting scott about supernatural nonsense.

the library was not for being publicly humiliated by your ridiculously hot girlfriend.

unfortunately, you did not respect the sanctity of anything.

stiles was sitting at his usual spot—textbook open, pen in hand, pretending to study—when you slid into the chair next to him.

“hey,” you greeted, voice suspiciously sweet.

stiles narrowed his eyes. “you’re up to something.”

you smiled, all innocent. “me? never.”

he squinted harder. “what do you want?”

you tilted your head. “can’t I just want to spend time with my adorable boyfriend?”

stiles immediately turned red. “I—you—stop that.”

“stop what?”

“being cute,” he hissed, glancing around to make sure no one was listening.

you grinned. “make me.”

before stiles could formulate a response, you very casually leaned forward and kissed him.

and not just a quick kiss.

oh, no.

this was a calculated attack.

a slow, lingering kiss, tongue and all—just long enough to completely fry his brain, but not long enough for him to actually do anything about it.

by the time you pulled away, stiles was bright red, gripping the edge of the table like his life depended on it.

“why?” he gasped out.

you shrugged. “felt like it.”

stiles gaped. “we are in library.”

you smiled sweetly. “uh-huh.”

“In a library.”

“yup.”

“where people can see us.”

she leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “I know.”

stiles let out an undignified squeak.

and that was the exact moment lydia martin—who had apparently been sitting three tables away—very loudly shut her book and said, “I’m going home. this is disgusting.”

you just laughed.

stiles, meanwhile, buried his face in his hands.

────୨ৎ────

now, there were rules when it came to dating in front of parents.

rule #1: no PDA.

rule #2: seriously, no PDA.

rule #3: do not test sheriff stilinski’s patience.

you had no regard for any of these rules.

stiles had just walked you to the door, ready to say a very normal, appropriate, and respectful goodbye, when you suddenly grabbed his hoodie, pulled him way too close, and kissed him stupid.

right there.

In his driveway.

where his father could definitely see.

and as if that wasn’t bad enough—

the front door creaked open.

sheriff stilinski cleared his throat.

you pulled away completely unbothered, turned to the sheriff, and grinned.

“good afternoon, mr. stilinski.”

stiles, meanwhile, had stopped breathing.

the sheriff raised an eyebrow. “you trying to kill my son?”

you smirked. “not today.”

and then you smiled—like a menace��patted stiles on the chest, and walked off, leaving him to deal with the aftermath.

the sheriff stared at him.

stiles stared back.

after a long, painful silence, his dad just shook his head and muttered, “unbelievable.”

then, he walked inside—chuckling to himself.

stiles, still standing frozen on the porch, groaned.

you were going to be the death of him.

and, honestly?

he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[monzabee]

like real people do – cl16 (+18)

masterlist

Summary: The one where you are having sex with your boyfriend, Charles, for the first time but he wants everything to be perfect for you. 

Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: smut (i can’t believe this day has arrived), absolute filth towards the end i'm so sorry mom, charles being a romantic dork, insecurities, obsessively planning something for it to only go wrong, cursing, fluff towards the end, google translate French, minors dni!!

Request: “Hi!!! Maybe you could do a first time with Charles Leclerc? Where he is upset because he wants everything to be perfect. And he whispers to her how much he loves her and her body. And maybe a sweet aftercare at the end?Just a suggestion &lt;3 Have a nice day!”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! thank you so much for the feedback and love you’ve left on my last fic! this one was fun to write but please beware that this is my first-time writing smut in my life. thank you anon for the request, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Dating Charles is easy, you think. Not in a bad way, no. But in a way that makes it very easy for you to lost yourself in him and your love for him, which doesn’t make you feel scared whether you guys are moving too fast or too slow. Charles always tells you that you should live your life on your own pace, without any comparison to other people’s –  although he doesn’t seem to practice what he preaches, both figuratively  and literally on the track. 

You love the story of how you two met, and you know he does, too. He brings it up often when the two of you are on a date, sharing the last course of the night, dessert, even though the two of you are probably full and can’t possibly eat anymore. The two of you met almost a year ago, in France actually, after the disaster of a race. Charles was forced by his friends, mainly Pierre, to go out for the night to hopefully have some drinks and let off some steam. You, on the other hand, were on possibly the worst date you could ever remember being on in your entire life. Therefore, being the only two people who are having the worst time in the small bar, you two met on the back patio where you thought you’d be able to get some alone time. Although the two of you don’t hit it off immediately, the only thing you could think about by the end of the night is when you might see the Monegasque with the dimples again. You guys don’t start dating immediately either, no, because Charles insists that it is important for you two to get to know each other as friends first. You agree, mostly because he is right, and also because you are impressed by the fact that he is showing emotional maturity in a way you did not experience in your past relationships before. But it is easy with Charles, even if he has an inhumane work schedule most of the year and your guys’ schedules don’t match up most of the time, you make time for each other. He knows how much your career means to you and you know the same goes for him so the two of you are very careful not to cross any lines. That doesn’t mean that Charles doesn’t spend all of his free time with you, of course.  

Another interesting thing about your relationship is the fact that you two haven’t had sex yet, although you’ve been together for a while. Some people are genuinely shocked to find this little fact out, for example when you told Lily she almost dropped the coffee mug she was carrying, or sometimes Charles’ friends like to make fun of the situation, mostly Pierre (in reality, only Pierre), though it’s all in good fun. You don’t feel weird about the fact that you two haven’t slept together yet, but you ask him whether there’s a certain reason why and Charles’ answer turns you into a sobbing mess in his arms. He explains that while he would love to fuck your brains out – in the most respectful way possible – but he want is to be perfect for your first time. In his mind, he is trying to show you how serious he is about your relationship by slowing down the pace and taking his time, and when he’s finally able to put it in words, they make you tear up in the best way possible. That’s not to say that the two of you didn’t partake in other forms of sexual intimacy per se. For example, there’s that one time where he came into his driver’s room after a particularly adrenaline filled race and dropped to his knees for you – you can still recall the devilish smile on his face and the fact that he never took his eyes off of you, not once. There was the time after the FIA Prize Giving Ceremony, of course, where the two of you managed to sneak out of the ceremony into one of the bathroom stalls and this time you were the one on your knees for him. In conclusion, neither of you feel you’re missing out on anything just because you haven’t had sex yet. 

It’s a couple of months after the last time you brought up the topic of having sex when the two of you stumble onto the topic again. It’s by an accident, really – and not much of a discussion, only a couple of words exchanged between the two of you. The two of you are watching a new movie which finally made its way onto Netflix, and you’re very happy with your place on the couch – squeezed between the cushions with the side of Charles’ body, which is very warm and making you a little sleepy to be honest. However, your sleepy mood is quickly wiped away when you realise the soft moans coming from the TV. You let your eyes take in the scene before you, the actors on the screen not slowing down for a second when you realise Charles’ breathing has gone deeper. He involuntarily tightens his arm around your shoulders, pressing you more into his sides. 

“Charles,” you mumble, bringing your gaze up to him and swallowing a deep breath once his green eyes meet yours. 

“Yes, chérie?” Although the focus on his eyes are on you, you can tell that he is also very much aware of the developing scene on the TV. His eyes widen when he realises what your silent request is and he exhales sharply. “Chérie…” 

You hide your face in his neck at the gentle rejection he offers, leaving soft kisses across the skin left open from the neckline of his hoodie. “Please, mon coeur.” You think your choice of words does it for a second. It usually does it, when you speak French because you don’t do it very often, but one look in his eyes tells you tonight won’t be the night. “But why?” you whine, almost childishly, burying your face deeper in his neck. 

“Because you need perfection, mon amour.” He replies, but there is a strain in his voice due to the tightness in his sweatpants. 

“I don’t need perfection.” You grumble, your sexual tension feeling overwhelming for the moment. 

“Maybe not,” Charles replies, taking a deep breath. “But you deserve it.” 

You inhale deeply at his words too, occupying your hands with the strings of his hoodie. “Soon?” you ask in a hopeful voice. 

He leaves a soft kiss on your hairline with an affirmative hum. “Soon,” he promises. 

It’s a couple of weeks later that incident when you find yourself back in his apartment in Monaco. Due to the flexibility your work provides now that you’re taking on more freelance roles. Charles was worried you took the step because of his own schedule, but you quickly assured him that you were feeling burnt-out because of the 9-to-5 hustle. So when you step in his apartment that evening, you take in the sight with a small smile on your face. 

“Honey, I’m home!” You announce your arrival, presenting the flowers in your hand with a proud expression as you enter the kitchen.

“Chérie!” He welcomes you, walking towards you from behind the counter and engulfing you in one of his bear hugs – which are your favourite, of course. “Welcome home, I’ve missed you.” 

“Well, then maybe you shouldn’t sent me out to get my nails, you silly goose.” You giggle, getting out of his arms and leaving a kiss on his cheek to go find a vase for the bouquet in your hands. 

“I needed time, and you know why.” He crosses his arms in his chest and a small smirk finds a place on his face as he raises his eyebrows. “You bought me flowers?” 

“Well, yes,” You shrug, “everyone deserves flowers, no?” 

“Hm,” he lets out a small hum, and gets behind you while you’re filling up a vase with water. He places his chin on your shoulder as he speaks in a low voice. “I got you flowers as well; you know.” 

“Oh, I know, I saw them on the dining room table.” You smile as you look at the flowers placing them on an empty place on the counter and turning your head back to look at Charles. “I love them, thank you, darling.” 

He kisses your lips softly, “I’m glad you like them.” He perks up when the oven timer indicates that the dinner is ready. So he takes your hand and walks you towards the door, “You go wait in the dining room, I’ll be right over.” 

He comes into the dining room a little while later carrying a pizza presented on a large plate with what you think to be artistically placed basil leaves. You smile widely at him while he puts the plate on the table and serves the two of you. “You cooked me pizza?” You ask, pressing your lips together to prevent you from smiling like a maniac. 

“I know it’s your favourite.” He smiles wildly right back at you, motioning your plate. “You first, I wanna see your reaction.” 

“Okay!” You answer him, picking up the slice and taking a bite out of it. As you start to chew the piece, you widen your eyes and let out a hum to disguise your reaction. Although it takes you a minute or two to swallow the piece in your mouth, his excited eyes never leave yours for a moment. “It’s great! Which recipe did you use, honey?” 

“I’m glad you asked,” he answers you, picking up his own piece, “it’s a recipe I found online.” He bites a mouthful out of the pizza and as he begins to chew, his eyes widen and suddenly he is spitting the food into a napkin as politely as he can. “Jesus, what’s wrong with this thing?” His eyes move towards your face and widens even more. “Chérie, you can’t possibly like this.” 

“What, no!” You say, dragging out the last letter. “It’s great, Charles, really.” You start to take another bite, but he stops you with an incredulous look on his face. 

“Chérie, non! You’re going to give yourself food poisoning!” He shakes his head, and takes out his phone to check the recipe after you ask him once again which recipe he used. “It’s the one from ‘Food Network’. It’s supposed be edible, no?”

“Oh, Charles.” You sigh, softly, looking over the American measurements instead of the European ones. 

His confused eyes find yours. “What?” he asks with a genuine concern. 

“They are in the American form, not the European ones.” You answer, a hand stroking his forearm in attempts to bring him sympathy. 

“Oh my god, I– I’m sorry, chérie.” He sighs, leaning his head back towards the back of the chair and letting out a frustrated groan. “I am stupid.” 

“You are not stupid, Charles.” You assure him, you hand is still on his arm to hopefully convince him that he is not, in fact, stupid. “It’s a common mistake.” 

“But non, it was supposed to be edible!” He points to the dough on your plate frustratedly and adds, “I even got you the wine you liked so we could share it.” 

“You got me wine to share?” You ask him softly. “But you don’t even like wine.” 

His answer is simple. “But you do.” He takes a moment to reflect and then brings his hands up to cover his face. “Oh my god, I forgot to take the wine out of the freezer.” 

“Charles, please,” You try to move his hands from his face, but he stubbornly keeps them there, letting out a groan in the process. “Okay, nope, enough.” You announce, getting up from your chair and try to forcefully pull him out of his chair. 

“No, mon amour, stop.” He argues, but you keep pulling him towards the bedroom with still chanting the words; no and nope.

When you finally get to the bedroom and open the door, you’re quite surprised to find another surprise there. You let your eyes wander through the rose petals and candles in the room – though, yes, it is a bit cheesy, you know the reason he went to this far is only to make you feel special and appreciated. “Charles,” you say his name with softness, and emotion, and (maybe) with tears but your hand in his tightens the moment you lay your eyes on him. “I love you, God, I love you.” 

“I love–” He can’t finish the rest of his sentence because suddenly you pull his face against yours, and press your lips onto his. His hands are quick to find your waist, and pull you against him. His movements are slow as he leads you towards the bed, but he lets you have control over the kiss and tries to match your rhythm as you deepen the kiss. As you get closer to the bed, one of his hands find your ass and when he squeezes the flesh under his hands, he is also quick to swallow your moans in his kiss. 

You let out a protesting hum when he tries to put you on top of the bed, so he slowly pulls away from the kiss and raises his eyebrows questioningly. “No.” You murmur, quickly switching your positions and gently pushing him to sit on the bed. “My turn.” You quickly place yourself to sit on his lap with a playful smile on your face. You let your hands wander across his shirt-clad chest, quickly starting to unbutton it while keeping your eyes on his. He assists you when you try to pull his shirt off of him and sigh dreamily at the sight, and softly pushing him on his shoulder to lie down on the bed. You proceed to drop your head and press kisses to anywhere and everywhere on his skin. You start with his lips, which he tries to deepen but quickly gives up because he understands what you’re trying to do, then his jaw and neck, his chest and eventually through the happy trail which leads your mouth to the destination you were hoping to achieve. Your start to unbutton his pants and try to undo his belt buckle, but he stops your shaky hands to bring you back up despite your protests. 

“No, chérie, not tonight.” Although his tone is firm, you try to get back to your previous position in hopes that we will let you. However, he tightens his hands on your hips to keep you in place as he pulls you close and whispers, “I said no, mauvaise fille.” bad girl. A smirk threatens to etch itself on his face when he hears your soft whine at his attempt to chastise you. He brings one of his hands to rest on the juncture of where your jaw meets your neck and allows his thumb to caress your bottom lip. “You’re going to let me worship you, n'est-ce pas? wont you? Before I fuck you, I mean.” 

Your breath nearly gets stuck in your throat, but you manage to let out a soft, “Charles.” 

“Tell me, mon amour, or I won’t touch you tonight at all.” There is a mischievous look on his face which is laced with months of built-up sexual tension – rather a dangerous combination, you reckon.

“Y-yes.” You breath out. “I will let you.” 

“You will let me do what, my love? Say it in French.” He moves his hand to cover your neck and applies the smallest bit of pressure he knows you like, enough to keep you on your toes but not enough to cut the air completely or leave any bruises. “You know I love it when you speak in French.”

“Je– Charles.” You quickly give up as you try to string the correct words together but his persistent gaze has you trying again and again to find the right ones. “Je te laisserai me toucher.” I will let you touch me. 

The smirk on his face turns wicked as he clicks his tongue. “Ne touche pas, dis-moi le mot juste, chérie.” Not touch, tell me the correct word, darling. “I won’t touch you tonight if you don’t tell me,” he reminds you. 

You let out a whine as you try to move your hips to gain some friction for relief, but his hand, which is still on your hip, stops you from doing so. Moving your hands to slowly hold his wrist, which belongs to the hand currently wrapped around your neck, you look him straight in the eyes with a panic. “Adorer! Je te laisserai m'adorer!” Worship, I will let you worship me!

“Bonne fille,” Good girl, he mumbles getting you out of your dress in no time. But he takes time with your underwear, allowing his fingers to explore as he teases you – no doubt. He slowly lays your body on top of the bed, and moves his body to sit between your parted legs. “Beautiful,” he whispers as he lets his eyes wander through the curves of your body, your chest, and eventually the wet spot between your legs. “Are you wet for me, my love?”

You nod timidly, partly due to the fact that you’re completely naked while he only has his shift off. It’s not that you two haven’t been naked together before, but it feels much more different this time compared to before. “Charles, please.” Your whine is much high in pitch this time, feeling needier as the minutes go by. “Please, do something.” 

“I will, mon chérie, don’t worry.” He moves down on the bed and lowers himself on his knees and pulls your legs over his shoulders. “Just don’t forget to tell me if it gets to much, okay?” 

“Okay– my God, Charles!” You throw your head back as Charles begins his mission – which must be, when looking back, eating you out like a mad man because the second he places his tongue on your slit, he begins to devour you as if he’s been starving for years. As he licks and nips and sucks at you skin, you have no control over the reactions your body supplies him with, which is mostly chanting his name over and over again. And you are pretty sure that he becomes more motivated to make cum every time your voice gets higher both in voice and pitch. You don’t know how long it has been and how many orgasms he’s given you just with his mouth and fingers. Three? Four? Five? You’re not sure – but the one thing you know is that when you’re just about to come again, you weave your hands through his hair and pull hard. In retrospect, it seemed like a good idea, but you come to regret that decision when Charles takes your clit between his lips and sucks just as hard, guiding through a mind-blowing orgasm which leaves you shaking and arching your back against the Monegasque. Just as you thought that would be it, he begins to restart his fingers’ movements, which has you pushing his head off of your pussy in an attempt to stop him. “Charles, I can’t anymore!” 

That seems to do it, because with a feverish look on his face, Charles lifts his head up and holds on to your thighs which are still on the either side of his head. “What’s wrong, mon amour?”

“I can’t – I’m sorry,” you babble through the involuntary tears, mostly due to the force of your orgasm – which does leave him worried but he lets you finish your thoughts before he takes any action. “Please just fuck me.” 

“Shh,” he soothes you, leaving small kisses to your upper thighs and moves himself to hover over your body. “You did so well, bonne fille.” He strokes your hair as he whispers sweet nothings to your ear, helping you to calm down and regulate your breathing before the two of you continue. “Breath, bonne fille, ma bonne fille.”

You listen to him as he gives you instructions, breathing deeper breaths and trying to keep your focus on his eyes while you do so. Your hands grip his biceps tightly when he makes a move to get up, the look in your eyes becoming panicky once again. “Where are you going?” 

His hand continue its movements in your hair as he smiles at you softly. “I’m going to grab a condom, and be right back, okay?” 

“Don’t.” You croak, your throat becoming dry as you keep talking and start blushing akin to a lobster. “I’m on birth control.” 

“Chérie,” Charles starts, “Y/N, we can’t–”

“Please, I just wanna feel you.” The softness of your voice tugs at his heartstrings as you add, “Only if you want to.” 

“Of course, I want to, you silly girl.” Charles assures you quickly and gets out of his trousers and boxers, and positions himself between your legs with the head of his cock pressed to your opening. He moves his eyes from you pussy to your face, locking his gaze with yours as he speaks again, “I’m going to go slow, okay?” He waits for your reaction before starting to move his hips, his cock moving inside you in a slow pace. As he continues the movement of his hips your lips part and a moan resembling his name come out. He stops at a certain point and gives you a moment to adjust, then moves his hips backwards enough that he gets out of you, but he is quick to slip back in and continue his movements up to the point he let you get adjusted to. 

You let out a whine, which prompts him to raise his eyebrows in question, which you reply with a nod of your own. You wrap your legs around his hips, the skin-to-skin contact feeling nice, and push him deeper inside you which results in you actually screaming his name. If you thought feeling him before that moment was pleasurable, felling all of him inside you all at once feels as if you’ve achieved some sort of nirvana. “Deeper, please, plus profonde.”

“I’ve got you, darling.” He manages to get out, moving his hips faster and deeper at the same time and hitting the spot which causes your eyes to roll back to your head every time. “You have no idea how beautiful you look like this, right now. Mon chef-d'œuvre, tout à moi.” My masterpiece, all mine.

With your entire body shaking with the movement of Charles’ hips, you still manage to nod your head. “All yours, Charles.” Your hands squeezing his biceps for support, “I love you, je t'aime tellement.” I love you so much. 

“God, I love you so much.” He lets out a groan, and drops his head to your neck to press kisses and suck your skin between his lips in an urgent need to leave his mark on your body. “Je promets que je t'aimerai pour toujours.” I promise I'll love you forever.

Your hands move to weave through his messy hair, pulling him closer in an attempt to keep him closer to your body – which proves a challenge because the two of you are already wrapped around each other. “I’m close, mon coeur.” 

“I know, sweetheart.” He breathes on your neck, his warm breath making you shiver under the weight of his body. He puts his weight on one of his arms and moves the other one towards your body, this fingers quick to find your clit as he begins to circle it. “Come for me so I can fill you up, hm? You want that, don’t you?” 

You nod your head and let him take you there for the last time that night, your orgasm coming in stronger than the previous ones due to the overstimulation Charles thankfully provided. “I do, I do, I really, really do.” Your legs tighten around his hips and your hands slip down his back as you claw at the skin there while your hips lift off the bed, causing you to arch your body to mold his. 

He only lets himself come when he’s guided you through yours, his fingers slowing down without stopping when he’s emptying himself into you. The moan he gets out, muffled because his head is still buried in your neck, quickly becomes one of your favourite sounds in the world. He holds you close as he slips out of you, the small wince on your face not going unnoticed by him, and he pulls you towards him when he drops next to you on the bed. Charles listens to your breathing for a while, only to find you looking at him with sleep evident in your eyes and a pleased smile on your lips. “Comme c'est joli.” How pretty. He says, “And all mine.” 

“All yours,” you sigh, but your voice coming off sleepy. “I’ve always been all yours.” 

His fingers draw random shapes on the bare skin on your back as he raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Hm, tu sais que c'est vrai.” You know it’s true. You mumble, snuggling closer to the driver wrapped around you. “I love you, mon amour.”

“I love you too, chérie.” He kisses the side of your head. “The next time we do this, I’m making you edible pizza, though.” 

“I don’t need pizza.” You laugh softly, “only you.” 

“Still,” Charles shrugs, “now go to sleep so I can take you out to breakfast tomorrow.” 

[proffdaydreamer]

★ 𝐴𝑈𝑅𝐼𝐸'𝑆 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴

𝖶𝖤𝖫𝖢𝖮𝖬𝖤, 𝖶𝖤𝖫𝖢𝖮𝖬𝖤! 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 museum of memories and shattered glass.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗆𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁! 𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗊𝗎𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗎𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝗈 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀! The place where you'll witness yours truly bend the rules and the original plot so she can be mexican every single time! ��𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 mysterious 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗇𝖺𝗋𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝖾, 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗅, 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇! 𝖯𝗈𝗉𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍, 𝖼𝗈𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗇 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝗉𝗎𝗄𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗃𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗍!

┆𝑳𝑶𝑺 𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑳𝑬𝑺, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟓 ٭

IRIS ARELLANO, later known as belladonna lynch, a charming lady who found herself pulled and lured into the arms of more than one rockstar, glamour, model of the decade and muse of the scene, hard liquor and vinyl records. Poor little child, only seventeen and already on tour with the band (sadly, not all of her friends survived) drugs, men who compete with the devil to see who's nastier but the men always win, always. abandoned reality, trauma alert!

┆𝑭𝑨𝑴𝑬 𝑫𝑹 ٭

DONNA SANCHEZ, born and raised in a small town in mexico, darling of the stage, every inch of her skin is made of poetry and her eyes show a severe case of cow fever, it might be the drugs, it might be the abysmal yearning taking a tool on her, adored and envied, a lover girl forced to be a fool. Our little lady has a taste for champagne, wine, sonnets at candlelight and a kiss on the neck. She has sharp teeth, careful with your hands!

┆𝑫𝑼𝑵𝑬 𝑫𝑹 ٭

WISTERIA BASYN OF MERIANE, the bene gesserit of violet eyes and rosey cheeks, she said fuck the sisterhood and the schemes! the rebel bride of house atreides and the second born of a lineage built in rage, pink flowers and black veils, sharp nails and the whisper of her arranged marriage traveling across arrakis. if paul hadn't annihilated the baron she would've done so herself.

┆𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄

HASEKI NIHAN SULTAN, formerly known as cassandra villarreal. The brightest star, the most imposing and authoritative figure your humble narrator has ever been, a hopeless romantic stuck inside a harem and fighting for the man of her dreams. Have you ever been pregnant all the time? Well, nihan has, as sweet as sugar and as poisonous as arsenic, the beloved of sultan ahmed khan.

┆𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐃𝐑

JULIETA SANCHEZ, ah! somebody quick catch me before I fall, for this girl is prone to break hearts, sweetheart of the town, vecna's worst nightmare! A pyromaniac who found herself involved in supernatural disasters and near death experiences, in love with a dork and her axe, cheerleader by day and monster hunter by night.

┆𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

EDEN WINTER, a sour mood, a cold face, the smell of cigarettes and cherry wine on her lips. sister of henry winter, as manipulative as him but never towards him. A greek tragedy! A sound of suspense, the tension in the air as she recites the iliad in its native tongue, yes she and her brother are way too close (they might kiss) what can I say? Spend time with camila and charles and your moral lines start to blur. let's not judge a book by its cover but she will burn any romcom you throw her way.

┆𝐍𝐄𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐌 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐒

ALYRA VELARYON, the one and the only daughter of rhaenyra targaryen, bastard girl in love with her jewelry and her business, family girl with a wild horse kick, beloved of her grandfather and cousins but always sticking her tongue out and flipping the bird to aemond. the faith's college of the smith has almost kicked her out twice, too many frat parties and waking up on benches.

Any and all comments of hate are welcomed in the comments but I will delete every single one, happy shifting!

[newtonsheffield]

omfg, why is no one talking about anthony's dorky little wave when kate leaves him and colin in ep 7. what a simpy loserrrrrr (affectionate)

I loved Anthony in that scene.

He really said “once I accepted that I loved her, and convinced her that I was sincere in my affections: Being with Kate is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

🗣️AND HE MEANT IT🗣️

Even when they tease one another, even when he’s contradicting the advice she’s giving his brother, being together is as easy as breathing. They love one another and that part isn’t what’s hard work.

Anthony is a dumb, happy dork. The only work he’s doing is in the bedroom.

I also love the detail that the night before his wedding to Kate he sat and had a bottle of wine in celebration. It’s such a contrast to the night before that disaster of a wedding where he was trying to drown everything out. Maybe he was nervous about whether or not Kate would show up after everything but I think he really was just happy, settled, toasting his bride, toasting his wife. And that’s where he is in season 3. He’s happy to spend time with her, he’s happy to spend time with his family and nothing feels like a burden anymore because he gets to share it with Kate.

So sorry to Colin, but no, he can’t relate. Because Kate’s the one person he’s sure knows him completely. She knew him completely before they were married and she fell in love with every part of him just as he fell in love with her. Violet got the wrong simp to give this advice.

Anthony when Kate’s trying to get him to say they work at their relationship:

[captain-hawks]

BEST FRIENDS & BAD IDEAS

♡ — jean kirstein x f!reader

Big aspirations and even bigger dildos—in which a poorly thought out plan makes it incredibly hard to act like your feelings for Jean Kirstein are platonic. Not when they’re anything but. And especially not when you’re half naked in his lap.

18+ ONLY

wc — 2.7k

prompt — cockwarming, creampie

additional content — NSFW, 18+, best friends to lovers speed run, dildo use, implied masturbation, unprotected p in v, praise kink, jean kirstein’s big dick

╰┈➤ kinktober masterlist

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna come,” Jean growls, and his low, rough tone sends you off-kilter, shoving you headfirst over the precarious edge you’ve been foolishly dangling from.

In retrospect, perhaps this wasn’t the best idea.

–

In the long list of questionable decisions you’ve made today, one of the first catalysts guaranteeing inevitable disaster was your lack of foresight to lock your bedroom door before stripping off your shorts and underwear and preparing to lower yourself down onto the ridiculously large dildo that had been delivered in an even more comically large Amazon box this morning. 

Your best friend of many years and college roommate, Jean Kirstein, came home just as your makeshift “stand”—you’d hastily attached the suction cup at the base of the dildo to the last clean plate in the cabinet for lack of a better surface—went flying across the rug, ripping the few inches you’d manage to ease down onto right out of your lube-slick channel. You’d hit the floor with a thud, growling in frustration. This, understandably, had the unfortunate effect of attracting the concern of said roommate, who swiftly burst into your room as if you were in the middle of being robbed. 

The concern quickly morphed into hysterics as he spotted the giant purple dildo wiggling uselessly a few feet away from where you were lying on your stomach, punching the carpet and yelling at him to get out with as much dignity as you could muster.

“That’s my shirt,” he commented dryly, ignoring your pleas for him to forget everything he had just seen. 

“Well it was in my drawer,” you spat back, trying to push the dildo-plate behind you, although the damage was already done.

Jean leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms. “I have so many questions.”

“Our business hours are between 8 and 5, so you’ll have to call back tomorrow. Sorry,” you said with a dismissive wave, subtly kicking the plate and dildo beneath the bed. 

The suction cup chose that moment to pop off, and all ten inches came rolling back into view right where a bar of sunlight was stretching across the floor from the window. It would have almost looked artsy. 

If it weren’t a fucking dildo.

“I thought you ordered a lamp,” he observed mildly, motioning to the huge cardboard box you’d yet to take out to the recycling bin. 

“I’m gonna order you a fleshlight if you don’t shut up,” you grumbled, shoving on a pair of sweatpants.

Jean crinkled his nose, running a hand through his hair. “That thing’s so big, the landlord might start charging us for three tenants if he sees it. Is this a cry for help?”

“I’m trying to prepare myself for seducing Eren at the party Saturday night,” you whisper-yelled, as if anyone else was going to overhear you in your otherwise empty apartment. 

“Jaeger?!” he barked out with a disbelieving laugh. 

“Everyone says he’s huge. I don’t want it to be a disaster.”

“He’s not that fucking big!” he exclaimed incredulously. 

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Can you like, go be somewhere tonight? Go get so high with Conny you forget you saw anything? I’m gonna go try in the bathroom instead.”

“You’re kicking me out of my own apartment so you can shove a giant, sparkly purple dildo inside of yourself imagining it’s Jaeger’s dork ass?”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me, Jean.”

He groaned. “The bathroom sounds like an even worse idea. You’ll slip, hit your head on something, blood will go everywhere, and we’ll lose the security deposit.”

“Or my plan will work, I’ll get laid this weekend, and you can stop complaining about how grumpy I’ve been lately,” you reasoned matter-of-factly. 

Jean’s hand came to rest on your shoulder as you attempted to push past him to leave the room, aforementioned dildo jiggling menacingly in your hand. “You’re gonna hurt yourself,” he said a little more softly, raising a brow as he cast another look at the offending object.

“I have lube!” you shot back defensively.

Jean glanced up at the ceiling, muttering something about regret under his breath before exhaling, “Let me help you.”

–

In all the years that you’ve known Jean, you’ve done an excellent job at keeping your little crush on him your best kept secret. A secret kept under the most formidable lock and key, buried deep in the depths of your psyche. Tucked away in the very back of a dusty, old cabinet like an expired can of corn. 

Objectively, you know Jean’s handsome. You’re well aware. 

With his intense, hazel eyes—ones that see everything. 

His tall, solid form. 

His sinfully curved, pink lips (and his habit of idly sliding his tongue along the bottom one). 

His long, dexterous fingers—a dangerous thought. 

That fucking mullet he let grow in, which shouldn’t be nearly as sexy as it is when he rolls right out of bed and leaves his room looking like a pillow-rumpled supermodel. 

He’s hot, okay?

And sure, you’ve drunkenly kissed at a few parties over the years. Jean’s seen your ass more times than you can count. Definitely your boobs that time he ran into the bathroom to puke while you were showering. Sometimes he has a habit of putting his head on your lap when you’re both on the couch, nudging you till you card your hands through his soft brown hair like a damn dog. 

But it’s always been platonic. 

Friendly. 

Two people who are just very, very comfortable with one another. Comfortable in knowing that neither intends to ruin their stable, solid friendship by carelessly sprinkling feelings into the mix. 

Comfortably going so far as to share the sordid details of your sex lives (or lack thereof, lately) while leaning against the kitchen counter eating take out food without batting an eye—though you’d be lying if you said you didn’t try to one up him sometimes when you feel that familiar, unwelcome twinge of jealousy yawning awake inside of you.

But this?

This is asking too much of your restraint to keep your heart walled off and your mouth clamped shut. In your defense, it was already left in pitiful tatters after grinning-and-bearing it throughout the seven-month-long nightmare that was Jean dating fucking Pieck. 

—

The next phase of your slew of terrible ideas today began with Jean sitting at the head of your bed, back against the wall, holding the dildo between his legs. Like your own personal fucking dildo holder. Grinning like this wasn’t the single most awkward thing the two of you have ever done (save for the time you both fell asleep with your head in his lap on the couch and woke up to his accidental boner poking you in the ear—neither of you ever mentioned that again). 

And it would have been totally fine if it worked out like you imagined in your head the moment he pitched it—you sinking down onto the silicone schlong a few times, stuffing in as much as you could while he held it still. Then letting him carry on with his day while you lay there in bed for a little while with it lodged inside of you, getting yourself used to the stretch. Totally fine. 

The reality of the situation was far different, entailing a sticky, slippery mess of lube coating of your hands and a dildo that bent and flopped in every direction as you tried to carefully impale yourself on it while maintaining some sense of dignity. 

You had given up fairly quickly, butting your head against Jean’s collarbone and sighing as you asked if he thought Eren would go slow. 

He was quiet for a moment. 

“…do you trust me?” Jean had asked carefully, like his next suggestion wasn’t going to send you spiraling.

Like “Just sit on my dick, as a friend!” wasn’t the most fucking confusing statement your heart, brain, and vagina had ever heard.

–

Which is how you find yourself in your current predicament, straddling Jean Kirstein’s lap with far more inches of him than you’d realized he’d been keeping tucked away buried to the hilt in the velvety heat between your thighs. Raw, skin-to-fucking-skin, because you’re both in a miserable dry spell with not a single condom to be found between the two of you. And somehow the combination of “known you for half of my life” and “just got tested” and “IUD” sounded better than one of you being tasked with trudging to the pharmacy.

Or, god fucking forbid, going down one floor to ask Conny for one.

Nope. 

You have three days to prepare yourself for whatever may come with Eren, so sitting on your best friend’s intimidatingly large dick sans condom the least of your worries. Even if it feels so incredible you’re literally silently choking on the moan threatening to spill past your lips. 

Even if you fucking swear you heard his breath hitch when the thick head of his cock began to slip past your entrance, stretching you open wide as he breached your damp channel. 

Even if he hardly had to touch himself to get hard for this. 

Even if his gaze darkened when you choked out, “Jean, your dick is huge.”

This was a terrible idea. 

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna come.”

“Doing what?!” you ask, exasperated.

He rests his hands on your waist, “Doing this,” and squeezes firmly, “on my dick.”

“This isn’t even sex,” you tell him, ignoring the way the close proximity of his hazel eyes sets a flurry of emotion stuttering in your chest. “It’s like, cockwarming at best. You can’t come from cockwarming if you’re not even turned on.”

Jean raises an eyebrow. “Do you even know how tight you are?”

“That’s obviously why I was worried about Ere—”

“It’s like this,” he cuts you off, wrapping a hand around your throat. It’s a loose hold, only meant to prove a snarky point, but a spark of arousal seeps through your body anyway at the mere suggestion. His eyes widen a fraction at the traitorous way your walls clamp down on him even harder in response. “What, you into being choked?”

“I’m into a lot of things, Jeanie,” you tell him haughtily, trying to ignore the heat blistering beneath your skin.

“Like dumb idiots named Eren Jaeger?” he counters, making to grab for the tongue you’re currently sticking out at him. 

If you didn’t know better, you’d almost think Jean sounds like he’s jealous. 

Which he definitely isn’t. 

But you poke the bear anyway. 

“What, are you jealous?”

He shifts slightly, and you bite your lip to stifle the moan as your cunt spasms around the pressure from his cock. 

If he notices, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, his brow furrows as the corners of his mouth tilt downward slightly. “I just think you deserve better.”

You tug on his earlobe, letting out a weak laugh in an attempt to dispel the sticky, messy feeling of hope trying desperately to cling to the arousal stirring in your gut. “Says the guy who’s currently fucking me.”

Jean scoffs and deadpans, “I thought this wasn’t sex.”

Who are you kidding? Certainly not the tension coiling ruthlessly in your abdomen. 

You move a little, trying and failing to relieve the sensation of hot wax dripping down your spine. Instead, you let out a tiny, strangled noise when your throbbing clit presses down against his pelvis, the resulting flood of pleasure setting every nerve ending in your body on fire.

The way he growls out your name through gritted teeth is a warning, but his low tone only serves to stoke the flames licking their way up between your thighs. 

You move again, inhaling sharply through your nose.

“Fuck,” he groans quietly, head hitting the wall behind him with a resounding thud. 

You’re not sure if he does it on purpose, but his hands find their way back to your hips, calloused fingertips pressing directly against your skin as he slides them up beneath your shirt. His shirt. 

The next time you rock against him, his grip on you tightens. And then, you feel it—he tugs you forward. 

You lean further into him, without really meaning to, forehead coming to rest against his. “What are we…”

“Just keep going,” he murmurs. 

He shifts again, sinking down lower so his back is pressed against the mattress, and you realize the angle gives you more purchase to grind down against him when he pulls at your waist, thumbs lazily skimming your hip bones. 

“Jean…” you whisper, not really sure what else you intend to say. 

“I want you to feel good,” he says softly, pushing his hips against you, even though he’s snugly bottomed out. 

It feels so fucking good—

—laying atop Jean while he stares back up at you, pupils clearly dilated in arousal—

—watching his eyes fall shut as you run a hand along the stubble on his jaw—

—knowing he’s well aware the slickness between your legs is no longer from the lube, your cunt gushing with arousal at the feeling of being stuffed deep with his thick cock. 

So you tell yourself you’ll figure the rest out later when you start to shamelessly grind down against him. 

“You don’t have to be quiet for me,” Jean teases when you cough to cover up a gasp.

Your answering moan is nearly a whimper, and Jean’s muscles tense beneath you as he continues to guide your hips. He doesn’t try to pull his cock out from where it’s lodged inside of you, doesn’t start thrusting and fucking up into you. He just lets you chase the clitoral stimulation you so desperately need while you’re cockwarming him, groaning along with you at each needy drag. 

“Good girl, that’s it.”

This is far more intimate than you bargained for, the gentle slide of his hands up your back scraping your heart out bit-by-bit. 

“Holy shit, you don’t know how close I am to coming right now,” he moans in a gravelly, unsteady tone. 

All you can do is whimper his name when the rubber band suddenly snaps in response, your body trembling as a wave of white-hot pleasure crashes over you. 

And then Jean’s hands are cupping your face, his lips crashing into yours. He kisses you fiercely as you whine and shudder through your orgasm, moaning into your mouth as you card your fingers through his hair. You can feel his cock throb inside of you, pulsing with need as your tight cunt spasms and contracts, relentlessly squeezing his shaft while you soak him with your release. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he’s groaning, both of you too drunk on pleasure to move when he suddenly climaxes, cock pumping thick, hot ropes of cum deep in your pussy. 

Chests heaving, Jean slowly sits up, forehead falling against your shoulder as he wraps his arms around your waist. 

After a few minutes of silence, he finally murmurs, “Don’t fuck Jaeger.”

You tilt his head upward, finger resting just below his chin, skimming the stubble that’s there. Too many emotions are swimming in his hazel eyes, more than you can identify—save for one that you recognize with a jolt of clarity. It’s the way you look at him, when he’s not paying attention.

Longing. 

Desire. 

Soft, gentle, unfiltered affection. 

This time, you’re the one to close the distance between your mouths, brushing your lips against his. 

“Who?” you ask, smiling into the kiss. 

Jean chuckles, the sound like warm honey, and he deepens the kiss, one hand sliding to the back of your head. Though you remain seated on his softening length, cum begins to seep from your slick heat, pooling on his balls and abdomen. 

He goes to move, but you don’t budge. “You wanna get cleaned up?”

You shake your head, the corner of your mouth tilting upward with a smirk. “I’m comfortable.”

Jean bites his lower lip, huffing, “My cum’s dripping all over, and I’m two seconds from getting hard again if you keep squeezing down on me like that.”

Feigning a look of innocence, you flex the muscles in your tight, soaked channel one more time for good measure. He chokes, and you grin. 

“Good.”

— likes, comments, &/or reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[inbarfink]

The ‘Escapades‘ in TGAA1 are already such a top-tier idea. I mean, I really wish we could’ve had those in any of the other games somehow.... Overall they’re an incredibly delightful addition to the game, and taking them individually, the least good ones are still like ‘well, that was a fun little vignette for these characters, I’m just not sure if it 100% gels with the main events of the game’.

And I think my favorite one right now has to be the first one, ‘In the Defendant Antechamber’. It just does… so much great stuff to the Asoryuu dynamic, recontextualizes everything that comes after in a way that makes it even better and just feels like such an Essential Viewing for really understanding these two. 

It’s just… you can go through the entire game with Ryunosuke constantly calling Kazuma his ‘best friend’, the ‘person I trusts more than anyone else’ and you might just casually assume that these two go a long way back. Maybe not as much as Kazuma and Susato since Ryunosuke doesn’t have all the details about his childhood, but seeing how much they mean for each other, they must’ve known each other for a while, right?

NOPE

THEY MET IN COLLEGE

ABOUT A YEAR AGO

They’ve known each other for a year, just a pretty ordinary year of school, and they’re already got that Unbreakable Homoerotic Bond of Trust, and Ryunosuke is fully willing to lay down his life for the sake of Kazuma’s dream of going to London. And Kazuma is fully willing to abandon his literal Life Mission of clearing his dead father’s name and avenging him in the shame of failing to defend Ryunosuke. And he drags Ryunosuke with him to London because he knows that he’s the only one who can keep him from straying from his path. And then Ryunosuke decides to dedicate his entire life in the memory of Kazuma. His college buddy. 

But they’re not just college buddies. Because in that one year, they did forge such powerful emotional bonds that all of these actions make sense for them. Because they’re just that kind of Ridiculous Human Beings and I LOVE IT!!

And the story of how they met is just… perfection. Like, if you look at the pre-‘death’ Asoryuu dynamic, it’s very ‘Japan’s most amazing promising young lawyer-samurai is absolutely enamored with an Anxiety-Ridden Human Disaster’. Kazuma Asogi is the Proudest Moronsexual and Ryunosuke Naruhodo is dating way beyond his league.

But also….the thing that drew Kazuma to Ryunosuke in the first place is the fact that he bested him at something. Kazuma is this rising star at Yumei University, he’s got the brains and the brawn, it seems like he is poised for success and glory for the rest of his days - and then this anxious innocuous little goofball beats him… humiliates him even. Ryunosuke beat the star student of Yumei University without any ambition or ill-intention, he was just being himself, he is just this silly little linguistic dork who likes tongue-twisters. 

And Kazuma feels no real resentment or spite about this defeat. He was beaten at his own game by such a silly little guy and all he feels is respect and affection and appreciation. A desire for friendship. Maybe even love. 

And meanwhile, Ryunosuke has just kinda forgotten that this is how they met. I mean, it's not like he totally forgotten it, but... it doesn't seem to register as particularly Notable in his own memories. It's just not that important to him. That was probably a life-changing unforgettable event for Kazuma, but when Ryunosuke thinks about their friendship he just thinks about hanging out after class and eating Yakisoba together. Because that’s just the kinda guy Ryunosuke is, and I think Kazuma appreciates that just as much as his tongue-twister skills.

Also, it kinda connects to an idea I brought up in a previous post, that Kazuma Asogi is less of a direct counterpart to Miles Edgeworth and more of a… mirror image, an inversion.

Phoenix and Miles’ friendship started with Miles saving Phoenix…

A moment which was a world-changing story for Phoenix that literally defined his entire life, but Miles, although he always kept his memories of Phoenix close to his heart, can barely remember it. 

Ryunosuke and Kazuma’s friendship started with Ryunosuke beating Kazuma. A moment that is… certainly not the most important thing in Kazuma’s life, but one that has certainly made his mark on him, and one that he is not going to forget. But Ryunosuke just... doesn't really think about it unless it's directly brought up.

And it’s just… such a good piece of characterization for both of them on every thematic level, I just love it so much!!

[wowcatboys]

how abt how yone kisses o(∩_∩)o

sorry if getting these repetitive asks r annoying or uninspiring— take your time and have fun

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HEARTSTEEL YONE: KISSES ♡ Gender Neutral ♡ SFW, NSFW separated under bold header ♡ DW anon, I'm OBSESSED with kiss HC's. I will NEVER complain if I get to Think About Kissing The Boys. Hope you enjoy (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

YONE

Yone's kisses are unique—they can't quite be described in the normal terms you might use, like 'passionate' or 'intense'. His deep kisses feel like poetry, almost abstract: like a pine forest under a shawl of fog. The steady roll of dark storm clouds, not quite raining over you yet, but whispering with a looming promise of thunder. Leather gloves. A whiff of cedar—mountaintops at dawn—the ripples on carved marble. Even though he's busy, he truly makes time when he's kissing you. As his tongue takes command of your mouth, you really feel him. Strong. Steady. He makes you feel important, secure. A good word, if you have to boil it all down? Sensual, but not overdramatic. It often leaves goosebumps popping up along your arms, and whenever he pulls away there's a momentary look of peace and dreaminess on his face. (It's quickly extinguished whenever the rest of Heartsteel engages in their perpetual bullshit, but oh well, what can you do. There will be more time to kiss when Sett's not whipping Earnest's toys at the windows as fast and hard as possible.)

Not big on PDA, Yone will keep your kisses quite chaste and gentlemanly in front of other people. The classic knuckle kiss is a favorite of his. He'll often gently bring your hand to his pillow-soft lips if feeling affectionate while in meetings with band managers or discussing business with venues.

That being said, Yone loves to stand behind you and rest his chin on the top of your head whenever you're waiting in line somewhere. If you protest with an 'ow' when his bony chin boinks your skull he'll murmur a "sorry" and press a light kiss your head. Then he puts his chin back, albeit more gently this time.

Yone always tastes great (a very subtle, clean wintergreen flavor) , even though you never see him popping mints or chewing gum. How does he do it...? You ask him how he avoids chronic coffee-breath but he just shrugs. "I don't do anything special," he claims. You're sure he's got some super-secret stash of high-powered mouthwash hidden on his person at all times but, as of yet, its existence is sadly unconfirmed. (Not to say he won't let you feel him up with the excuse of looking for it.)

Often, Yone's mouth is freezer-cold from his iced coffee. His chilly tongue never fails to send a shiver down your spine.

Speaking of his tongue—boy, does Yone ever know how to use his. He likes to lick long the ridges on the top of your mouth, the back of your teeth, and along the length of your tongue. Never fear because he's appalled at the mere thought of the washing machine maneuver. Even if you're in a sloppy make-out sesh he keeps it classy.

Yone's got some minimal pull with the more popular gossip mags, and he uses it to make sure pictures of you kissing stay out of the tabloids. He absolutely hates the idea that your relationship could be subject to public scrutiny. If someone manages to get a picture of you two in an intimate moment, he's not above using his influence and/or money to make sure it's not released.

Kissing Yone with his hair down is a recipe for disaster. There's just so much of it and it gets everywhere—before you know it he's wincing as your fingernails accidentally tug his hair and you're pulling red out of your mouth. If there's a hair tie on your wrist, Yone snags it. When you open your mouth to protest the theft he shuts you up with his mouth on yours.

Sometimes the rest of the guys are dorks and act absolutely disgusted if they catch you kissing Yone. "Ewwwwww," they laugh, prompting Yone to roll his eyes, annoyed. "I hate seeing Mom and Dad kiss." (Gender matters little in this teasing scenario. Yone is 'Mom' either way.)

Yone's a workaholic, so of course he gets a bit delirious and silly from lack of sleep sometimes. If he's giggling and rapid-fire pressing kisses on all your birthmarks, it's probably time to make that man go to bed. Nothing says you can't enjoy the extra affection before he passes out, though.

Though he gets in the zone and may not give you a deep, sensual kiss while he's working, Yone always returns a kiss when you give him one. Giving him a quick peck while he's scrunched over his work computer is a surefire way to steal a little loving while he's otherwise occupied.

NSFW

Yone's the king of body worship. When he knows he's been neglecting you for work, he makes a show of getting to his knees and running his hands feather-light up and down the outside of your thighs. "My darling," he lifts your foot towards him and his warm breath fans along your ankle. "Won't you please let me earn your forgiveness?" Taking his time, he caresses sweet, nerve-tingling kisses up the length of your legs. When he reaches the apex of your thighs, Yone meets your eyes, gaze smoldering, before taking you into his mouth. Let's just say he doesn't rush, and you more than forgive him by the time he's done with you.

Yone adores kisses in missionary. It's as if his mouth is soldered to yours, swallowing up your moans like he's a man starved. Whenever you break away to gasp and pant his name he presses his forehead to yours, basking in the closeness and warmth of your bodies.

One of Yone's turn-ons is when you trail kisses down the back of his neck and over the column of his spine, so light he can barely feel them at all. Your warm breath and your lips whispering across his back have him tense and shivering in the best way possible. You're only halfway down his spine before he starts muffling moans into the palm of his hand. He gets so fucking hard it almost hurts when you finally reach around to touch his cock.

[questionablepen]

ok adding to my tdwt alenoah ex situationship au

so, it all starts when noah meets alejandro during his run on total drama dirtbags. noah is still an assistant and alejandro is just like The Worst, but he's kinda nice to noah and noah is like. weird but ok.

alejandro chats him up before and during filming, noah just tries to be polite before he actually finds himself really enjoying talking to him.

they start hanging out a lot more, off set, on set, they share looks in the middle of filming when alejandro is on camera and makes a particularly fun joke or when another cast member says something stupid.

it's still the middle of filming, albeit neither of them are on camera, when they sneak off to a beach off set and share their first kiss.

it's like super uber romantic and noah is like omg. okay. work. lets try and be normal about this.

alejandro however is like internally freaking the fuck out. mans is like holyyyy yfuckckckkk i ruined everything even though everything is literally fine. but he's dealing with some shit so he's just a mess despite how much he actually likes this guy.

so they keep sneaking off together and making out n stuff but alejandro starts acting super weird. noah notices that he's starting to treat him kinda like everyone else and is closing himself off, so he obviously has to talk to him about it.

it goes horribly. the last day on set, noah confronts alejandro about it and alejandro doesnt rlly know what to say so he's like uhhhh i didnt like you that much anyway/you were clingy/we arent even dating, and noah is like FUCK this guy im leaving. and they both go their separate ways thinking they'll never see each other again.

too bad, chris mclean says, as he offers noah a shit ton of money to join total drama world tour.

and, obviously, noah is in no position to refuse the money, especially with his younger sisters needing to go to college not to mention the work chris put in negotiating his pay.

noah already knows who is finalized for the cast, now including himself.

so, he finds himself in a position where he not only has to deal with his ex situationship on a daily basis, but he has to work with him on the SAME TEAM.

alejandro doesn't know that noah was on season one, much less he's joining world tour, so he see's noah on the bus and is like FUCKKKKK!!!! literally he's like oh my god the love of my life i fucked up so bad i need him back RIGHT NOW

so he makes it his mission to win back noah, but he's still playing the game, so it's like a disaster of alejandro trying to play the game and play people but also trying to be honest with noah and get him to trust him again.

and noah doesn't really know what to believe, plus, he's still super mad. so he kinda just watches alejandro be stupid and then makes fun of him while his heart is beating super fast bc he likes that dork so much.

basically they're just disaster gays and are STUPID!!!

[squiddy-god]

omggg just saw your blog post and i loved that Denji x male reader fic! I am in full belief of him being a bisexual disaster

if your up for it i’d love a pt.2 to that story where Denji finally gets with male reader and it’s just really fluffy? like reader laughing at his goofy ass and teaching him how to be in a loving and healthy relationship

id really appreciate it dude since there ain’t many male reader fics out there 💀 anyways even if u don’t do the request i hope ur having a great day man!!

Hehehe yes i absolutely can, as always i'm a firm bi denji truther and frankly we need more male reader fics for him. Bi Denji analysis PowerPoint soon 🙏 Cw ; none, fluff, denji x male reader, canon typical illusions to violence and suggestive nature just because of how chainsaw man is

A week. It has been a week since you last herd from denji. Well saying “last heard from” isn't right when it's closer to “last watched him flee my apartment”. However thankfully you had received a text from the dork in question asking you to meet him at a cafe. That's where you are now, going to said cafe to meet up with denji for whatever it is he called you for, probably to hand out. 

However when you finally come into view you notice that the man in front of you is not slouching casually as per usual. Red cheeks and a shy averted gaze “that's what guys like right?” he thinks to himself. His cheeks are puffed out slightly almost like he's pouting. His hand scratching the back of his neck he looks up at you and nearly chokes on words even he doesn't know. 

“So…did you just want to hang out?” 

Denjis eyes widen and he fumbles around your question a bit. “Nah it's not like that I just…” his hands twitch, clenching and unclenching nervously. Twitching forward and twitching back as if apprehensive to reach forward. “I dunno” he's cute when he pouts like that. Sharp teeth worrying his lower lip and cheek out of nervous habit. “Maybe it could be like a date” 

“Do you want it to be a date?” How cruel of you, teasing the poor guy when it is oh so painfully obvious he wants it to be a date. Painfully obvious he wants to hold your hand. “Yes…maybe” he's taken to shoving both hands into the worn out pockets of his jacket. Deciding against torturing Denji any longer you take his hand in yours, it's rough, with a bit of scar tissue over his knuckles and palm. For a guy so seemingly obsessed with touching boobs just holding your hand is enough to nearly kill him. “Can i- like talk to you” it takes a small reassuring nod before tugging you off on a little walk. A long stretch of silence hangs between the two of you before Denji speaks again. “I'm sorry i ran out the other day, that wasn't very cool” 

“That's fine, I mean I was just getting out of the shower” you laugh, fully prepared to brush it off. It didn't mean anything, denji calling this hangout a date probably didn't mean anything either… you shouldn't get any hopes up. “I think im gay” 

You nearly choke on air, tripping as you fumble to snap your head towards denji as if he called you a slur personally. “Or like kinda gay you know…i think i still like boobs and shit but, man seeing you like that” he leans back, eyes glued to some very interesting clouds as he tried to play it off like a casual admission and not the nuclear bombshell it was. “So you think you're bi? Something else??” Denji nods, taking in your face and reaction. You don't look mad- that's good, but you also don't look like you realised what he said. The gears in your head work overtime as you rethink what he said again and again until it clicks. “I MADE YOU BI!? Or well like realizing your bi? Holy shit-” you crouch down by where the edge of the sidewalk meets the slope of the bank before the small patch of sand. Your hands are clasped in prayer hoping that whatever bisexuality devil is looking out for you has got your back, that denji is about to ask what you think he is going to ask. 

“Common dont make me say it if you already know” he whines. 

“But i wanna hear you say it pleaseeee” you shoot him your best wet puppy eyes but really that is denjis strong suit. “Ugh fine.” he's looking away from you, cheeks puffed out slightly as he stills his rapidly beating heart. “I maybe wanna be your boyfriend” and before he knows it you are pumping your fist in the air excitedly. “YES. YES, WIN- HAHAH!” 

At least you grab his hand again, leaning your head sweetly on his shoulder. He almost forgets to breathe. He'd suffocate if it meant you didn't let go. It felt right, like a little piece of normalcy he didn't even know he could hope for.

[charles-leclerc-official]

About your omega oscar post. Him and omega Charles is one of my favorite things in fics !! Even when they make oscar an alpha it's so cute too ! Shame that there isn't so much fic about it but all of the fics about them are really so cute ! Especially when Max is there too.

Choscar is criminally underrated. I like them in either dynamic, it's very fun both ways and Oscar being a dork for Charles who outwardly is much cooler but is of course also a disaster at heart is very funny to me always. (and of course there's the umm the Monaco daddy kink Oscar just decided to subject us all to publicly, thanks Oscar!)

Dominant omega Charles x soft alpha oscar is one of my faves, because it's very cute

But also LOVE some lestappcar shenanigans. They drive each other insane in the best ways.

And a big thank you to the fic authors writing this rare pair!

[jurassic-park-inthe-world]

Protect Me? (Zach Mitchell)

Summary: Zach Mitchell and the reader, Y/N, have been best friends since childhood. When Zach takes her to Jurassic World, it's a game of survival.

**********************************************************************

The day he met her, he fell in love. That's how Zach says he and Y/N met, but when Y/N herself is around, he says they met in the seventh grade, when she moved to Michigan from Alaska. She was used to the cold, it didn't bother her, and neither did the kids whispering how weird she was for still being obsessed with dinosaurs. She got along great with Gray, because they both knew things about Sauropods and long-necks and T-Rexes and Triceratops and this and that kind of dinosaur.

Over time, Zach started falling for her. At the time, he was still with Ashley, his now-ex, and he hated thinking that he was leading her on, even though he thought--no, knew--that he had no chance with Y/N. So, as friends, he invited her along to Jurassic World, their aunt's dinosaur theme park.

Time Skip

Zach, Gray, and Y/N got off of the boat docked at Isla Nublar. The hills and mountains spread around them like a green maze, and the wooden dock was warm from the sun. Y/N grinned, taking it in. She loved nature, it was her happy place. She liked to often sit near rivers or streams and draw them in motion, or listen to the rain and sleep, even if she got cold and a little wet. "It's so pretty here," She said, and Zach grinned, shaking his head. "You and nature, I swear." She giggled, and Zach blushed.

"Who's that?" Gray asked, pointing at a woman with black hair and dark shades covering her eyes. She was dressed in a power suit, a pale gray color that covered a white shirt. She had pale gold shoes on. In her slim hands, she held a sign: ZACH AND GRAY MITCHELL, Y/N L/N. "Let's find out," Y/N said softly.

Time Skip

"What the hell just happened?" Y/N choked on water as she swam to shore. Zach and her pulled Gray onto the mud, and Zach said, "We were almost eaten." He blew water from his nose in a short huff, and Gray said, "That's why Aunt Claire wanted us to come back. We should've gone back." He whimpered, and Y/N gently helped him up, shaking water from her hair. "Well, let's just get back to the park, okay?"

They wandered around for a long time and found a set of doors covered in vines and moss. "The old park!" Y/N cried happily, running up the steps slick with moss. "Careful, careful." Zach scolded as she ran inside. It was a disaster, but it was beautiful, like an old castle left in ruins. She could see the beauty where everything must've been. "They built over it," Gray frowned, touching a wall with painted Velociraptors on it. "Makes sense, they didn't exactly tell anyone this happened." Zach muttered, picking up a banner. He turned to Gray. "Still got those matches?" Gray opened his "dork pouch" and took them out, handing them to Zach, who lit the banner like a torch. "Come on." He said, and they followed.

They had just entered the old Visitor's Center when a large, scaly foot slammed down and crushed a leaf-covered statue. "Run!" Zach yelled, and they bolted. Y/N tried keeping up but didn't see a large vine and root entangled together on the floor and tripped, flying forwards. "Ow!" She yelped, and the dinosaur, the one that tried to eat them on the waterfall, snarled and started leaning down. She froze, but knew that this thing didn't see like the T-Rex; it went off thermal radiation, not sight. Suddenly, the thing howled, and she saw Gray jamming a huge stick in the dinosaur's leg, making it scream and roar in pain. "Come on!" Zach was yanking her to her feet, and as they passed, they grabbed Gray. Making it into a garage, they saw a gasoline Jeep. Pausing, they waited to hear the dinosaur's loud steps. After a moment, they heard them, stomping away. "He's leaving," Gray whispered. Zach adn Y/N weren't listening. He was holding her close, breathing deeply to calm himself. "Are you okay?" He asked, face inches from hers. She nodded, breathless. "Yes." For a moment, they stared at each other. "Jesus, just kiss her." Gray snapped, moving to the Jeep.

Zach grinned, kissing Y/N, and she kissed back, feeling safe. "I...I love you," She whispered, and he blushed, a small smile on his face. "I love you more."

[necropathys]

question…… if apple poly were to go on a little date…. would they dress up for it? (and perhaps how) :3c

It really depends on who’s planning the date—and, of course, the occasion.

That said, Swad always has to be so over-the-top. He can’t help himself. His garish design choices might partly stem from his bad eyesight, though that’s difficult to articulate properly. Regardless, he’s a walking fashion disaster who’s also completely obsessed with appearances. Swad would absolutely insist that everyone wear clothing of his choosing, wanting to show them off in the most extravagant way possible.

Most of the time, the others would refuse. Maybe once in a blue moon, they’d indulge him—if only to humor him or for a special occasion.

I also think, hmm, Swad’s insistence on extravagance isn’t just about fashion—it’s his way of projecting his divinity and importance. He genuinely believes that his partners deserve to be adorned and celebrated as reflections of himself. It’s not just about claiming them; it’s about creating a spectacle to match his vision of who they all are together. A reflection of his personhood. Something something narcissism.

Dream, on the other hand, would try his best to dress up and look smart, but… well, he grew up as a forest boy in the middle ages, so his sense of style is questionable at best. He puts in genuine effort, but his outfits tend to clash horribly, with some truly bizarre usage of certain elements. He’s a bit of a fashion disaster in his own way, though he can (barely) get away with it thanks to his positivity aura making people overlook the chaos.

Shattered and Swad, however, don’t let him off that easily. They’d try to guide him with recommendations or straight-up tell him that whatever he's doing is not the look. They're very blunt and enjoy teasing him.

I think Shattered would dress quite smartly—maybe even wearing a dress shirt and slacks. He's already dressed pretty well. I think his ability to pull off this understated elegance feels like a stark contrast to Dream’s chaotic charm and Swad’s excessive flamboyance.

But also, how is this guy the most fashion-forward out of the lot? Is it because he's bound to a black color palette? Are all Dreams destined to have bad fashion sense? (Yes.)

Also, I think they would probably wear outfits with matching elements because they're dorks—and terribly enamored.

But also really okay consider, to them, matching outfits are more than just a fashion choice—they’re a statement. They represent a bond that transcends their individual quirks and differences. For Swad, it’s a way to claim his partners proudly. For Shattered, it’s a quiet reminder that he belongs to something greater than himself. And for Dream, it’s a small but significant way to feel connected to the people he loves most.