#and if it does. is it really in character

[otaku553]

New blorbo :)

Also a silly interaction with this piece

[tiredeg]

What's the pyjama situation at the GPDA strike sleepover?

George: Has an intense mental battle between full button up collared pyjamas to Remain Professional as the union rep, and his inherent need to be shirtless... He goes with the full collared get-up in the end but unbuttons the top by the end of the night. He does wear socks to bed.

Lewis: Silk pyjamas, obviously, could be worn as a full outfit and would be the most fashionable outfit on media day, easily. He has an eye mask and earplugs and WILL be using them.

Lando: Giant hoody, the pink one, hood up, sleeves over hands. Skinny joggers.

Oscar: Shorts, obviously. He was actually planning on going shirtless but gets self-conscious when most people aren't so overheats in a T-shirt all night.

Valtteri: Has been specifically told he can't sleep naked and he's not happy about it. Wears a onesie.

Zhou: All black, stylishly cut matching pyjamas. Cat socks.

Pierre and Esteban: Show up with matching pyjamas. They did NOT plan this.

Yuki: Is a bit miffed because he WOULD have worn matching pyjamas with Pierre. Sleeveless tank and boxers.

Liam: Lightning McQueen character pyjamas.

Max: He will be sleeping in a Red Bull polo and jeans because he is technically At Work.

Checo: Is inundated with pyjama sponsorships but instead wears a meme t-shirt about himself.

Alex: Wow what a coincidence he JUST launched Albon pets pyjamas!

Franco: He WILL be sleeping shirtless and he WILL be stretching and flexing. Will try to get the mattress next to Lewis.

Charles: Wears tailored pyjamas with bottoms that are really baggy but also cinch in his waist. He still has to wear all his sponsor bracelets.

Carlos: Has a nose peg for snoring. Sleeps in only boxers despite the fact that they were told to be decent. You know he's kicking the covers off in his sleep.

Nico and Kmag: On purpose coordinate to wear matching white-tshirt-grey-sweatpants. Will be going to sleep asap.

Fernando: Wears a robe that's tied justttt tight enough that it's never actually indecent but it's threatening to open all night. Velvet slippers.

Lance: Wants to match with Fernando but only has a cozy flannel robe which he keeps fully tied at all times. Bunny slippers.

[requiemforthepoets]

you just pulled a verstappen! 𖦹 LN4

PAIRINGS: lando norris x female!reader

SUMMARY: you played a sim racing before, but not really on an actual sim racing setup like lando’s. so when you had the chance, you decided to try it out.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n, fluff, and a little bit of cursing

WORD COUNT: 820

AUTHOR’S NOTE: found this on my drafts. i have a lot of lando one shots, but never really posted it bc i think it was poorly written, so i decided to fix this one up and post it. i hope you’ll enjoy this one!

Your and Lando’s apartment was unusually quiet. Lando had been out all day, caught up in a string of meetings, and being alone in a big apartment, the boredom had started to creep in. You sighed, glancing over at Lando’s pristine sim racing setup, which sat there like a tempting invitation calling out for you. It wasn’t like you had not played sim racing before, but using his rig, specifically with Lando’s custom settings and all his tweaks? That was something else entirely.

“Eh, why the hell not?” You muttered to yourself with a mischievous grin.

You quickly booted-up Lando’s setup, and you were off. You found yourself in the middle of a tense Grand Prix, the roaring of the virtual engines filling up the headphones as you become very absorbed with the race. Time flew by, and you were too focused to even notice when Lando came home.

“Hey, baby! I’m back!” Lando’s voice echoed faintly from the hallways as he called back to you, and you never responded. All you could hear and think about was the hairpin turn coming up on the circuit, and nailing the turn. ���Babe, where are you?” He called out to you again, but you were still glued to the screen, the intensity of the race drawing all of your attention.

A few seconds later, Lando still got no answer from you. So when he checked every room in the apartment, and saw that you were inside his gaming room all along, he entered immediately, but when he saw you, he stopped dead in his tracks. There you were, fully immersed in sim racing, eyes locked on the screen with his headphones on and hand deftly handling the steering wheel. He blinked, half in disbelief, before grinning like a little kid on christmas morning.

“Are you on my sim setup right now?” He asked, voice full of shock, but you were too busy overtaking another car to reply.

“Okay, that was a decent corner,” Lando said with a playful smirk as he walked over to you, leaning against the back of the chair. “Not bad at all.” He added, folding his arms, and watching in awe as you navigated through the pack of cars.

You heard him, of course, but you were in the zone. The next thing you knew, you pulled off a move that would have made Max proud, sliding past two cars with precision that even caught Lando off guard.

“Whoa, that was a Verstappen move!” Lando exclaimed, wide-eyed. “You just did a Verstappen! Are you sure you don’t want to join F1? Because honestly, what the hell was that?!”

A smirk just tugged at the corner of your lips, definitely proud of yourself, but you remained focused, determined to finish the race without breaking concentration. Lando couldn’t help but laugh at your intense expression.

“Alright, I need to record this one,” Lando chuckled, pulling out his phone. “No one’s gonna believe me if I told everyone on Thread that my girl just pulled a Verstappen move, unless I post it.”

“Look at this! My girl’s out here stealing my setup and driving like she’s been on F1!” Lando began as he started filming, making sure to capture the moment as you powered through the final lap, and zooming in on your face, grinning the whole time. “Guys, I’m telling you, I’m not really making this up. She’s actually faster than me on some of these corners!”

You barely heard him as you crossed the finish line, finishing in P1, and the sound of the crowd roaring through the headphones as you finally relaxed in the chair. You let out a squeal of happiness and looked over at Lando, who was still recording and shaking his head in disbelief.

“Okay, what was that?” He laughed at you, turning off the camera. “I leave for a few hours, and suddenly you’re doing Verstappen-level moves on my rig? Are you secretly practicing whenever I’m not home?”

“Maybe I’m just naturally talented, ever think of that?” You looked at him smugly, and wiggled your eyebrows as you teased him.

“You know what?” Lando grinned at you, gently pulling you out of the seat and wrapping his arms around you. “I believe it. I’m just saying, if McLaren ever needs a backup driver, you should really think about it.”

“Babe, that’s Pato’s job, and I won’t take that away from him,” you joked, causing Lando to laugh, and you leaned into his embrace. “I’m just kidding! But…I might steal your sim setup more often.”

“Deal,” Lando chuckled, kissing your forehead. “Just don’t make me look too bad, alright?”

“No promises.” You said cheekily, then grinning up at him.

“Alright, alright,” he smiled at you. “Now where’s my kiss.” You leaned in, and kissed him softly on the lips.

[yanmuffins]

waiter! waiter! more phineas and ferb reader pls!

I wonder how the batfam would react once they catch reader inventions on a random tuesday, like, "hm, what a nice day to look out on the window and HOLY SHIT WHY IS THERE A GIANT ROBOT SPITING FIRE WHILE RIDING A ROLLERCOASTER IN MY BACKYARD???"

the events that would follow this incident would be funny and exasperating, me thinks

also, wouldn't it be funnier if Perry the Platypus was part of the JL? and like, no one knows his identity but Superman, and neither of them are willing to talk about it-

I know it would be very unlikely, since everyone there would have enough neurons to recognize a platypus with and without a hat, but for the sake of shit and giggles, just think of how funny that would be

welp, I needed to get that outta ma chest, I hope I at least made you laugh a little, because seriously this is one of the best ideas I've seen in this tag and I can't stop thinking and giggling about it

Stay well!

context.

first: i was not expecting this concept to be so popular!! the responses i've gotten from everyone are so amazing!!  ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝) thank you for the ask, anon!! it always makes my day.

i am formally announcing that i will be turning phineas and ferb reader into a fic now. it's too good a concept to pass up. something more light-hearted to work between the other fics i'm writing.

batfamily finding out about reader's whacky inventions would be an event. it so wholeheartedly shatters the image they had of reader to the point they just have to sit with what the hell just happened for a while before they even consider what to do about you next. still so many things that don't make sense. their newest case is how the fuck did we go this long without finding out (Y/N) has been building mechas in our backyard and why are those things always gone when it's convenient.

then the realizations just start dropping on them like an anvil on a looney tunes character. and they kinda feel like shit, cause how did they not notice? really puts into perspective how they've neglected you all this time. so many stunts you pulled right under their nose, on their backyard, their garage, throughout gotham and metropolis. ok, were out there being creative and amazing and you sure know how to spend the wayne family money, they'll give you that, but it was so irresponsible of you! who knows what could've gone wrong. you're not like them! you're a civilian with no training, the only regular teenager in the family, you're the last person who should be exposing themselves doing all that.

bruce goes off on you, screaming about how could you be so reckless, you did all of this behind his back– what? what do you mean he gave his permission? and he is floored, devastated, blood pressure up, when you remind him of every instance you dropped by his office with a document for him to sign or to ask for permission, with proof as you pull out every paper he put his signature without a second look.

and that, ladies and gentlemen, is when reader's dynamic with the batfam does a complete 180 and their little yandere antennae start going off. no more whacky cartoonish shenanigans. at least not without proper supervision. they know you're not a fan of this new arrangement, but you gotta understand they let you go unchecked for way too long! they'll drown you in family activities so you don't even have to worry about it. who wants to build a teleportation machine, anyway? just join them for family movie night.

as for perry, that is going to take them a while longer to figure out. bruce just can't stand another insane discovery, so when batman sees an intelligent platypus wearing a fedora and walking on two feet on justice league headquarters (if we're going by the idea that he's a part of JL), he's just going to think "my kid has a pet platypus. huh."

oh, consider:

dick: "damian, you knew all this time?! our sibling could've gotten into serious trouble! why didn't you tell us about this?"

damian: stares into the camera like he's in the office.

[everythingspokenfor]

All characters are aged up 18+. Mdni

Bakugou is a pervert.And he thinks he is sneaky. He thinks he can get away with being a perv because you are his girlfriend. He knows you are sexy and he has stated that multiple times. So, more or less you are aware of Bakugou's preferences. He has been a gentleman for the entire relationship. A great caring, loving, and compassionate boyfriend really. Always talked about things thoroughly, making sure you both are on same page and comfortable. This applied in your sex life too. Always talked about consents and kinks and all the other things.

But, a small, little, teeny-tiny kink that he never really talked about was, he obsession with your smell.

You don't know he gets off to your smell. Your pillow does tho. Your shirts do too. Infact your panties have been the biggest witness to Bakugou's obsession.

Everytime you have a mission or any event that requires you to be away for more than one night, Bakugou goes ham on anything that smells like you.

It started during your third year of U.A., mere months before your graduation, you went on a 3 week mission abroad. Although you and Bakugou called alot it wasn't enough for him. On a rather lonelier night, Bakugou went to your bedroom to sleep. He didn't really have any wrong intentions to be honest. Just wanted a good night sleep, surrounded by familiar scent. As he got comfortable in your bed, something stirred in his belly.

Your scent making his cock stir in his pants. His hand rubs over his stomach. He reaches and pulls his cock out of the confines of his pants. Thick and veiny with pale pink tip. Bakugou does slow strokes first, gliding his fingers on the veins like you would. Teasing his tip with light fingertips. He grabs the base of his cock and jerks it. Squeezing just below his tip, he let out a low groan. Bakugou sits up when his eyes catch something in the corner of the room. Your laundry basket. With few articles of clothing that you probably took off the day you went on your mission. Bakugou knew it was wrong, he knew that it was dirty and he shouldn't mess with you stuff behind your back. But he needed this, with the knowledge that your dirty clothes are lying barely few steps away, he needed them to cum.

Bakugou stood up and went over to your laundry basket. He nearly whined at the sight of your gym wear lying at the bottom. Haphazardly he grabbed the bottoms and bought them up to his face taking a big whiff.

Bakugou went back to the bed and started jerking his cock. While rubbing his nose on the crotch of the shorts Bakugou came with a deep moan.

It took him few moments to gather his bearings (and his cum off himself) before his post-nut clarity hit him. And he stared at your shorts in bewilderment.

When you returned you didn't really question why your laundry was done and your bed made, chalking it up to Bakugou being a lovely boyfriend.

Though that was start to Bakugou's obsession with your smell...

[darkshrimpemotions]

The thing is, Guillermo being too kind and pure of heart to eat humans was always a fucking lie. Like??? Obviously, I think. And the Cannon Capital arc isn't really a departure for his character, it's us seeing all his worst traits highlighted in an environment that makes them MUCH less fun and sympathetic.

Guillermo has always been an intensely stubborn, self-serving character prone to tunnel vision who was willing to turn over pretty much every corner of his soul if it served his goals. Even if he did sometimes feel bad about it or force himself not to think about it so he wouldn't feel bad, he still did it.

He's still the guy who befriended people with the express purpose of luring them in to be killed. For years. He's still the guy who offered one of his oldest friends up to be murdered at an orgy, and only changed his mind at the very last second. He's still the guy whose version of trying to have a normal human life for once involved lying to pretty much every human in his life--his bio family and his boyfriend--about every aspect of his life but his name. He's still the guy who dismembered the corpses of his victims--yes they're still his victims even if he didn't strike the killing blows himself--in the front yard each morning with a dreamy smile on his face as he talked about the heart wanting what it wants.

Sacrificing Nandor to serve his goals at Cannon Capital is really not that different than sacrificing Jeremy to serve his goals as Nandor's familiar, except that in this case he had a lot more time to think about it and still did it, not via silence or omission but via a direct act of betrayal to Nandor's face. Perhaps it's because he never had to suffer any real consequences for his betrayal of Jeremy that no lessons were learned?

It's also really telling that when you reset Guillermo to his base state via sleep hypnosis, it's the sweetest, most wide-eyed and innocent version of him and STILL the first thing he does is offer himself up to be a vampire's familiar, all in a bid to have enough power that he can't ever be bullied again.

It's understandable. It's reprehensible. It's really ugly in a way that's harder to laugh off when you attach that to an extremely timely, familiar (heh) real-world scenario such as a venture capital firm that makes their money through shady real-estate deals that absolutely gut local livelihoods. But the Guillermo we're seeing right now is just as tunnel-visioned and stubborn and selfish as the Guillermo we've always known. We just very understandably like him less for it when it's real-world monsters we've all seen ruin real lives instead of fantasy monsters that are silly and fun to watch.

But this isn't out of character or off course or a step back. Guillermo is deep in denial and clinging to the Cannon Capital job because he can't face what he's lost as of the end of season 5. He's replaced Nandor with a master that's worse in every way, he's still clinging to the house while pretending he's separating himself, he's still sleeping on the remains of the makeshift coffin Nandor bought for him. He tells himself he is facing it and moving on, but I hope this time we all know that's a lie.

And I'm here for it when it all falls down around his ears, and he finally has to face himself. I'm really excited for it, actually!

[domjaehyun]

there's a stranger in my house (l.jn)

PAIRING. lee jeno x fem!reader 

GENRE. thriller, smut

CONTENTS. major character death, seriously dubious consent that turns noncon (please believe me when i say this), spitting, unprotected sex, fear play, oral (fem receiving), anal play, degradation, praise, biting, marking, ass smacking, mirror sex, non-consensual filming, choking, hair pulling (receiving), manhandling/strength kink, some role play 

WORD COUNT. 3.8k

SUMMARY. something’s not quite right about jeno, and you’re not sure what it is.

PLAYLIST. stranger in my house - tamia

NOTES.  hiii well. i can’t explain myself. important context is the movie “us” by jordan peele but if you haven’t seen it, i try to explain without explaining. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION. happy birthday to my dear dear dear friend @renjunfocus!! i hope you all like it and don’t come tell me if you didn’t 💖 but if you enjoyed it, by all means let me know! 

“Jeno, please be safe tonight.” you say worriedly as he adjusts his costume in the mirror. “Halloween is scary; people are always doing something fucked up.”

“I’ll be as safe as possible, baby.” Jeno assures you, turning to face you with that crescent-eyed smile you love. “Plus, I’m literally dressed as a cop; they might think it’s real.” 

“True,” you hum, nibbling your bottom lip worriedly as you take in his appearance. “You look really… really good, Jeno.”

“Oh, yeah? Can I get a kiss for looking this good?” he asks hopefully, and you smile, leaning in to kiss him sweetly on the lips, Jeno chasing after you as you pull back.

“There’s more where that came from when you get back home.” you promise, and he gives you a cute frown before straightening back up and smoothing out his costume one last time.

He pulls you into a hug as he always does before he leaves and when he comes back, and you breathe in deeply, his comforting scent of peppermint body wash, a soft musk, and baby powder enveloping you.

He presses a kiss to the side of your head and slowly retracts from you, a hint of reluctance in his movements.

“I’ll see you in a couple of hours,” he bids you goodbye, blowing you a kiss before exiting your bedroom and, you deduce when the front door shuts, your apartment.

You decide to get cozy in bed and wait for him to come home while you read a book you’ve been neglecting recently, but it’s only about thirty pages in before your eyelids start to droop and you find yourself curling up under your covers and drifting off to sleep.

When you wake up, it’s with a start, sitting straight up in bed when you hear the front door shut roughly. You wait for Jeno to make his way into your room, surprise and confusion filling you when he appears and—

“You changed your costume.” you point out, and he looks down at it as if he’s forgotten.

“Some girl spilled her drink on me at the party, so Jaemin loaned me his spare costume.” Jeno answers with a shrug, and you nod.

“It’s hot,” you admit with a grin. 

He chuckles as he draws closer to you. “Oh, yeah?”

You nod encouragingly. “The robber thing is kind of a 180 from the police officer, but it’s really hot… kinda makes me a little flustered.”

“Oh, really?” he teases, and you nod again, slower this time. 

“The ski mask is a good touch; kinda scary, too.” you compliment, and his gaze darkens as he looks down at you.

“Are you scared, then, baby?” he questions, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “Hm? The big, scary robber’s making you nervous?”

“Oh, yes, mister robber, sir, please! You can take all my money, just please don’t hurt me!” you plead, clasping your hands together and blinking up at him through your lashes.

“It’s not money I want, sweet girl,” Jeno growls through his ski mask, his voice muffled but still so convincing and deeply unsettling that you feel apprehension creeping up on the back of your neck. “Sit on the windowsill,” he grunts, jerking his chin towards the bay window beside your bed, and you climb to your feet, obediently moving to sit at the edge of the windowsill. The seat is cold on the backs of your thighs, making you wince slightly, and you find yourself drawing back in fear as Jeno stalks towards you and stands before you, practically looming menacingly over you.

He slams his hands down on either side of you loudly and suddenly, making you yelp in panic. “Relax,” he purrs, lowering himself so he’s eye level with you. “So pretty,” he rasps, tilting his head to the side as he watches you, but the compliment fails to warm your cheeks the way it usually does, because this time, it sounds… foreign and unfamiliar to you. It’s a type of observation Jeno’s never demonstrated before, your loving boyfriend usually eyeing you with adoration, love, or fondness in his eyes. Tonight, it’s different. It’s almost… sadistic in its fascination, as if the flashes of fear behind your eyes are fueling him somewhat.

You’re so focused on decoding the entirely unsettling look Jeno’s giving you that you don’t notice one of his hands sneaking up behind your back until his fingers are looping in the locks at the base of your neck and tugging your head back roughly. His eyes darken at the flash of panic and pain across your face before he’s ripping the ski mask off and practically smashing his mouth against yours, kissing you more ferociously than he ever has before. He’s all sharp teeth and forceful tongue, the wet, thick muscle bullying its way into your mouth as you whimper for mercy. His tongue swirls around the inside of your mouth possessively, coating every last bit of it with his saliva like he’s marking his territory.

He pulls back slightly before spitting directly into your mouth just as you go to gasp for air. You promptly choke on his saliva, coughing and spluttering pathetically as tears spring to your eyes. You’ve barely recovered before Jeno stuffs two fingers into your mouth, parting them in a V so your lips are stretched horizontally, and he wags his tongue lewdly in the open space of your parted lips, licking against your tongue with long strokes punctuated by guttural grunts of delight. 

He spits once more, a long drop of saliva landing on your tongue, and you whimper in protest, shaking your head in refusal.

He cups your chin in his hand with a firm, almost too tight grip, staring you down challengingly. “Swallow it. Take my spit in your mouth like the good little slut you are.” 

You blink back tears of confusion and hurt as you do just that, swallowing his spit, and he smiles, pleased as he pats your cheek roughly.

“Good.” he grunts, releasing you and knocking your legs apart with two quick slaps to your inner thighs. He drops to his knees between your thighs and yanks the straps of your satin nightie off your shoulders, tugging the fabric down to reveal your bare breasts. He pinches at one nipple, twisting until you squirm away from his touch. He latches onto your neck, biting roughly and sucking harshly and working his way downward until marks are blooming all over your sensitive, buzzing skin.

When he gets to your breast, he looks up at you, studying your reaction when he sucks as much of your breast into his mouth as he can fit. You hiss in surprise and move to push him back slightly, finding yourself overwhelmed by the intense sensations, but he snatches your hands out of the way, linking them together in his larger one before trapping your hands between your legs. He sucks on your nipples roughly, rapidly flicking his tongue over the buds and even nipping at them every once in a while, and you can’t tell if you want to moan or cry.

After what feels like ages of inner turmoil, he releases your breasts from his greedy clutches, your nipple slipping from his lips with a loud, wet, pop sound. He leaves a trail of bite marks down from the underside of your breast to your stomach, where he sinks his teeth into your flesh so roughly that you fear he’s aiming to draw blood. He pulls back when there’s a clear indentation of his teeth on you, marks that are sure to bruise, and spreads your legs as wide as they’ll go. 

“Been dying to taste this pussy,” he grunts under his breath, and you swallow thickly, watching him warily as he drags his tongue up your folds forcefully. Spreading your folds apart with two fingers, he prods the thick tip of his tongue against your entrance. You gasp in surprise when he slithers his tongue into you, the muscle fat and long as he moves it around along your inner walls. “Delicious,” he groans, dragging his tongue over your hole and relishing the way your hips jolt.

When two thick fingers push into you without warning, a weak moan falls from your lips at the surprise of the stretch. Jeno grins cockily, and it hits you what’s different: there’s a hollowness to his every emotion, like there’s a lack of… humanity to it.

Something about him is off; he's not acting like the man that loves you. He's touching you with the desperation of a man that's never had you before. He even smells different; like smoke, ash even, and something metallic and dark. What clues you in the most that this is not your boyfriend is that his signature scent, his personal blend of musk, is nowhere to be found. This man smells tangy, sharp, and strong, a heady blend but most importantly enough, not your boyfriend's blend.

This man is not Jeno.

“Um,” you pipe up tentatively, and he takes a minor break from licking at your core to look up at you with a raised eyebrow. “Who are you?”

With your question, the energy in the room shifts completely; a smile nothing short of sinister appears on his lips, and there’s a wicked glint in his eye that has you clutching at the windowsill.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asks, and there’s an attempt at tenderness, but it all feels so deceptive, like he’s pantomiming an emotion he’s never experienced. “You don’t recognize me?”

“No,” you say breathlessly. “You’re not Jeno.”

“Smart girl,” he replies before lowering his head to return to eating you out. When you start to close your legs from fear and panic, he growls threateningly, the sound guttural and unnatural, and moves faster than you could’ve thought possible. He pushes the bay window open behind you, the bottom of the window swinging out, and forces you back and down until your torso dangles precariously from your tenth floor apartment unit.

“If you make any wrong moves, I will drop you.” he threatens, and you whimper in terror, the wind chilling your cheeks and rushing through your hair as you dangle, contorted partially upside down, at the mercy of this man who looks just like your boyfriend yet behaves like anything but. “Unless you’ve always wanted to paint the concrete with brain matter, I’d stay still.”

You nod vigorously in understanding, letting your trembling thighs fall apart once more, and he hums appreciatively.

“Like I said,” he remarks as he attaches his lips to your clit, “smart girl.” He sucks roughly at your sensitive bud with lewd moans and wet smacking noises and if he can hear your sniffles and whimpers of fear, he doesn’t comment.

The hand not keeping you in your life-threatening position strokes against your folds, parting them and pushing two fingers back into you, starting to pump them in and out.

“I’ve been waiting for this for too long.” he mumbles against your folds before proceeding to sloppily make out with your core, tongue slurping and licking at every drop of arousal that drips out of your poor hole. “Waited in the shadows, listening to that bastard fuck you every night—”

“Every night?” you gasp, and he chuckles darkly.

“I’ve been watching you both for some time now.” he informs you, fingers moving in and out of you while he speaks as if it’s the most casual conversation in the world. “He was a real fucking soft guy, huh?” 

“Was?!” you squeak in alarm, and he laughs loudly, fingers speeding up cruelly and hooking into your g-spot, making it abundantly clear to you that you’re about to cum, whether you like it or not.

“Oh, he’s not coming back, baby,” he says with an audible grin, malice laced in the pet name he so evilly threw back in your face. “Unless anyone at that Halloween party can perform open heart surgery.”

“Oh, my God,” you whimper, and you’re not sure if it’s from abject horror or your rapidly approaching climax. The unmistakable sounds of his fingers squelching in your arousal fills the inside of the room, loud enough for you to hear it from your precarious pose halfway outside. “Please, you have to stop, I don’t want to cum—”

“Do you think I give a fuck what you want?” he spits back at you, and you flinch at the venom in his voice. “All my life, we’ve been forced to mimic you all up here like puppets while you get to do whatever the fuck you want. Now it’s time to do what I want, and I? I want you to cum all over my fingers and my tongue.”

“Please—” you whisper, and he shushes you, the sound adjacent to something close to loving, but lacking any real sympathy; he must have heard Jeno soothing you at some point and mimicked the sound to the best of his abilities. 

“Cum, baby,” he urges, fingers pistoning in and out of you rapidly before he curls and fucks them directly into your g-spot and brings you to a powerful climax that you wish you could explain away to your guilty conscience. His lips wrapped around your clit, he sucks hard and flicks his tongue over the sensitive bud as you ride out your high against his face. 

When you’ve recovered somewhat, he looks up at you with a wicked grin, lips still glistening with your arousal. 

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he taunts with a sly grin, and you just sniffle forlornly in response. “Get up, baby—wanna feel that pussy around my cock next.” He pulls you up unceremoniously, shutting the window behind you and guiding you to the bed. He plops you down on the mattress and hovers over you, encroaching on your space bit by bit until you’re lying with your back on the bed and your legs are reluctantly spread to welcome him in. “You scared?”

“Yes,” you whimper, and he pouts at you, not a hint of sympathy in his expression. 

“Good.” he chuckles darkly before lining his thick tip—thicker than Jeno’s—up with your entrance and pushing into you with one fluid motion. You grab roughly at the sheets at the intrusion, gasping out loudly, and he seals his mouth over yours to silence your cry of surprise, tongue pushing into your mouth and licking into it filthily. “Relax, you’re never gonna take it well if you don’t relax.”

How the hell am I meant to relax when you killed my boyfriend and are in my home about to do Lord knows what to me? You think, but you refrain from mouthing off just yet.

He pushes down on your lower abdomen, groaning in delight as he feels the bulge of his length dragging along your inner walls, and you let out a choked-off squeak as he stretches you to your limits and fills you impossibly deep. 

“That’s it, pretty little thing, feel me nice and deep right here,” he growls, starting to move his hips faster to fuck into you at a gradually building pace. His hand slides up your stomach to twist your nipple before continuing up to cup your chin and turn your face towards the mirror by the door. You shake your head vigorously, not wanting to see yourself like this, but he holds fast, practically smushing your cheek into the comforter. “I want you to watch as I ruin you.” he urges, and you whimper in protest. 

Your face looks nothing short of fucked out, and he’s just gotten started; your eyes glassy with unshed tears, a few tear streaks sliding down your cheeks, and your jaw feels permanently dropped open as he fucks into you at a brutal pace. His sinewy arms hold you in place as he bullies his cock into your tight hole and his abdomen tenses with every thrust, tight muscle tensing and flexing in a regrettably attractive way.

He reaches in his pocket and takes out his phone, holding it up and aiming it at you. “Smile, baby; you’re on camera.” You reach to cover your face and chest immediately, crying out in protest when he snatches your hands away. “Don’t tell me you’re camera-shy,” he taunts cruelly. “That loser never filmed you two fucking?” 

“No,” you say pleadingly, and he tuts in disapproval.

“Sight as pretty as this can’t go to waste.” he decides, moving the phone closer to your face. Fresh tears spill forth, and he licks his lips slowly, watching one tear in particular drip down your cheek before leaning down and licking a fat, wet stripe up your cheek where the tear track was. “God, and now you’re crying—it’s like you’re trying to make me cum.”

“No, I’m not, please, I’m not—” you beg, and he shushes you impatiently, brows furrowed in concentration.

“Yes, baby, you’re gonna make me cum nice and deep in this tight little pussy—gonna fuck you full of my cum—” he grunts, and you squirm under his hold desperately, fighting to get free. “That’s it, struggle a little bit for me—so fucking hot,” he mutters before bringing his forearm to your throat to press down harshly, constricting your airway. “Not too much, now—don’t want you getting away from me.”

“Please—” you croak out, struggling to breathe. “Can’t—breathe—”

His smile only widens and two things dawn on you: one, he could very well kill you right now, and two, there’s no way in hell you’re going down without a fight.

You reach up and claw at his forearm, scratching as hard and as deep as you can, and to your alarm, he grins widely, even among the wince in his expression.

“Love that little fighter in you.” he growls, pressing down harder, so hard you fear it might bruise. “Can’t wait to break it.”

Your vision starts to cloud, black spots forming in your line of sight, and you can feel your consciousness slipping away from you even as you try desperately to remain awake and free yourself. It all proves to be in vain as you slip away from this world, barely able to hear his faint murmur of “That’s it,” before you pass out completely.

When you come to, your throat is sore and you can’t move your body. Your vision spins as you take in the sight of your bedroom, eyes squinting reflexively as the glare of the television hits your retinas.

You turn your head this way and that only to see, to your horror, that your hands and feet are tied to each bedpost with thick, coarse rope. No matter how hard you tug, there seems to be no breaking free, and panic creeps up your still hoarse throat, hot and thick and dully aching. 

The television catches your attention once more, your mind focusing on it in an attempt to calm yourself down, and you watch whatever’s on, your brain catching up quickly.

“...in what reporters everywhere are calling the ‘Doppelgäng​er Takeover,’ recent news has shown that people are being viciously attacked and some even killed by someone that looks exactly like them. If you see someone behaving not quite right, stay back and do not approach; they are known to be violent and highly dangerous.”

Your breathing hitches and starts to shallow rapidly as you start to hyperventilate, tugging harder and harder on your restraints. 

“They won’t budge,” Jeno’s voice calls out, and you flinch, whipping your head around to find the source of the sound. Jeno emerges from the hallway, now clad in a short sleeved black tank top and dark gray sweats. “You can thank Jeno’s mom for that; she signed him—and therefore me—up for Boy Scout training when we were eight.” He steps further into the room, dark piercing eyes scanning your frame trembling with fear. “Her precious Jeno never quite got the hang of the knots, but me? I mastered them.”

A terrified whimper slips from you before you can stop it, and his lips quirk up into a wickedly delighted smile.

“What should I, um…” you swallow thickly before continuing, “call you?”

“Jeno.” he replies easily, and his keen eyes catch the almost imperceptible grimace that takes to your lips at his answer. 

“What are you going to do with me?” you ask worriedly, and he raises an eyebrow.

“I’m going to keep you.” he states plainly, and your body stills entirely, fear igniting in your bloodstream and leaving you close to paralyzed. 

“What about my doppelgänger?” you question, not knowing what answer could possibly make you feel better at this point.

“I got rid of her.” His answer is simple again, and you suck in a breath of surprise. “She’s not as fun as you.”

“Fun?” you croak, and he nods, a gleeful smile on his lips as he nears the bed slowly.

“Doppelgängers are essentially a ‘crude’ copy of the ‘original’ person,” Jeno explains, making one-handed air quotes around the words he spits with disdain, “and only the ‘original’ person has a soul.” 

“So… so that means—”

“I don’t have a soul.” Jeno confirms with a hollow laugh made all the more terrifying now that you know he’s literally hollow spiritually, devoid of humanity. “None of my people do.”

“And you want my soul?” you ask fearfully, and he snorts in amusement, shaking his head.

“You really are cute, you know that?” he chuckles. “I’m not going to take it from you,” he says, waiting until your body slackens with relief to add, “I’m going to break it.”

“What does that mean?” you whimper, fresh tears spilling from your eyes. “Jeno, what do you mean?”

“I want you to understand that this is your reality now. I don’t want there to be any fight left in you at all. But you people are like that… hopeful,” he spits the word with disgust. “Your spirits are like a fire that won’t go out. Every once in a while, there’s a little,” he pauses to scan your face, eyes brightening with excitement when he catches sight of your eyes, no doubt reading the fear, fury, and desperation you have to save yourself— “ember… that sparks up, and I’m going to be here to snuff yours out every… single… time.” He’s close enough to bring his mouth to your ear, lips grazing the lobe and making you shudder with revulsion. “You’re not going anywhere unless I say so.”

You don’t say anything, setting your jaw firmly and staring straight ahead to ignore him. Maybe he’ll get angry enough and kill you, putting you out of your misery.

“There’s that little fighter,” he remarks with fascination. “I saw a hint of it earlier when I was choking you; that fight to survive, to live—you fucked my arm up pretty badly, I was impressed.” he remarks, extending his arm to show you the deep, angry, red cuts clawed into his forearm he’d wrapped around your throat just hours ago. His other arm emerges from behind his back, and your eyes widen when you see a Hitachi wand in his hand, his thumb already resting on the “on” button. “I am going to have so much fun breaking you.” he rasps with unrestrained excitement as he turns the vibrator up to the highest setting.

well.........congrats for making it to the end!! *insert obligatory "i definitely don't think jeno's like this" part that technically doesn't need to be there considering that wasn't jeno* i hope you liked it and if you didn't.... well sorry ig tune in next time for a lovey dovey fic 💖

[codnasties]

cod characters fucking fleshlights

this post includes: soap, ghost, gaz, price, graves, konig & alejandro

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soap 🧼- the one that takes his time

now, this ain't soap's first time using a fleshlight. he started with a tenga egg or something like that, just for the sake of trying something that wasn't his hand. and i just know that troughout the years he has created a decently sized collection with a lot of varietiy: fleshlights imitating pussies, asses, mouths,... even if a man like him could easily pull a pretty lass to fuck, with the job he has and what it requires of him, it isn't always ideal.

but there is one thing that soap does, no matter weather he's fucking one of his partners or a plastic replica: he takes his time. stroking himself tentatively before lubing his dick up and loweing the fleshlight onto his hard on until he's balls deep. and when i say he fucks it as if it were a real person i mean it. he's fucking int in diferent positions, jerking himself with it but also fucking into it, both slow and fast until cums all over himself

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ghost 👻- the stretcher

ghost sometimes has to ask himself if he's really that big and thick or if it's just that the one or two fleslights he owns are way too fucking small. he doesn't know, but he very much loves it. there is something about the size difference, the way the plastic stretches to fit him and how he can perfecly see it expanding as he pushes his dick deeper into it that makes him go feral.

now, other than his size kink goin brrr, he finds himself swiping his cock against the flesglight's pussy-like entrance, as if he were teasing a real cunt, before fucking himself slowly into it. he's mersmerized by the plastic doll completely swallowing up his aching hard dick until he's balls deep. he also intends to pull out - just to save himself some clean up - but he finds himself so overwhelmed by the feeling and visuals that he just fill the fleshlight up with his potent cum - more than once, at that -.

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gaz 🧢- mess making perpetrator

this may be my most repeated gaz headcanon but he's a mess maker and there is no deniying. when he get's home from a mission or something like that and he doesn't feel like trying to find a partner to fuck, he always has a trusty fleshlight. the thing is, he doesn't even make it to the bedroom most of the time, deciding to just fuck it in his livingroom.

he just plunged deeply into the plastic pussy, stretching the plastic over his limit because his dick is too long for the small fleshlight, almos breking it. the pent up hornyness and the feeling of something other than his hand wrapped around his dick sending him into an orgasm faster than he expected. he pulls out to first his impossibly hard cock when he feels himself about to cum. and he stains the sofa with it as the mess perpetrator that he is - and let me tell you, it ain't the first time he's had to clean his seed out of that sofa.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

price 🚬- the first timer

price is an older and more traditional man, he would rather fuck another person than some piece of plastic. but he keps hearing his men talk about fleshlights, how good they feel,.. and all that combined with the fact that he ain't getting younger, he's extra tired and trying to find a partner with a job like his is tedious, he decides to get himself a fleshlight just to try it out of curiotisty.

what he did not expect was that god forsaken piece of plastic would feel that fucking good. all it took was some slow deep strokes into it before he found himself cumming. and at that moment his lust filled brain took over and he started fucking himself into the fleshlight again, trying to extend the pleasure of the orgasm. let's say he now fully understands why his men praise them plastic holes.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

konig 🗡- the nasty fucker

lets be real, konig is fleshlight collector number 2. anxiety gets the best of him so he would rather to make do with some plastic pussy or ass than having to deal with the hassle of interacting with people. his not that experiended ass is fucking enamoured by the feeling of and ass or pussy, even if it isn't a real one.

now, konig allways finds himself doing two thing every time he uses one of his fleshlight. a. he moans. like a bitch in heat. he can't help it, it just feels overwhelingly good to have something wrapping tightly around his unexperienced cock. and the fact of finally getting some release. b. he makes messes - yup, mess making perpetrator no. 2 -. spit, precum, lube and cum mixing all together, covering his dick, hands and fleshlight as he fucks himself dumb and slaps his dick all over yhe plastic ass.

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graves 🪦 - the stressed

now, these military men always find themselves stressed out, it's a part of the job. but for graves, said job and the tension that it generates have kept him away for some time now from a real pussy or ass. so a fleshlight is a good alternative, giving him all that he needs to reach some much needed release.

the few occasions he has had enough time to indulge in some pleasure, he's going to make the most of it. alternating slow, sensual deep strokes and fast shallow ones. hands making sure that the fleshlight stays in place as he plunges into it chasing an orgasm and moanig at the sweet feeling of release. he for sure cums deep inside of the plastic masturbator, because it may be plastic, but he loves creampie-ing it the same way he would creampie a real person.

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

alejandro 🤠 - the tip teaser

alejandro doesn't strike me as the type of person that would have a proper fleshlight, you know? instead of a piece of plastic that fully engulfs his dick he has one of those quickshot ones. a transparent one at that. it gives him a lot of options, from fully jerking his cock with it to just teasing his tip.

and oh does he love to tease his tip! using that comact masturbator to play with his angry red bulbous tip. pushing just the head in and out, sometimes tilting it to make his dick pop out of the fleshlihgwith a wet noise. and seeing his cock breach into the plastic, dick twitching at the feeling, his stomach spasming from the sensation... he always inevitably cums all over himself, staining his hard shaft, lower hairy stomach, thights and even the quilt.

[beesandwasps]

Incidentally, “crashes if it runs in the 00s” is actually a 1960s bug, not a 1990s bug. (It comes from systems which store the date as a two-character text string, which is most commonly associated with COBOL, a language designed in 1959 and which was heavily developed through the 1960s. There are other things which used that convention, but neither Macs nor DOS/Windows ever had this bug as part of the OS — even the early versions of the FAT disk format used by DOS had dates in the 2000s.) And “crashes if your name contains ö” is really a 1970s bug, since it almost always stems at some level from decisions made in the design of UNIX/POSIX. (These assumptions are still made in a lot of open-source projects, incidentally, even in modern ones where the programmers really ought to know better, and are related to the fact that the POSIX spec permits a node name in the filesystem to contain any values other than null bytes, but the POSIX command line does not have any method of quoting and manipulating paths which doesn’t fail on at least one sequence of non-null bytes. This being the case, programmers on early POSIX-y systems assumed that nobody sane would ever use any characters other than printing ASCII, and later programmers thought they were being extra-clever if they could handle spaces.)

[circussclown]

wanted to draw something nice cause im not feeling that great so have some kisses.

loop and odile were also supposed to be in this but i couldnt make it work so i gave up... loop cause. well . and odile because i cant really picture her offering anyone a kiss. like im sure someone could draw it but it kept bugging me cause it seemed too ooc. like im already reaching with bonbon we cant have two ooc drawings in the same canvas.

while i was making this though i remembered i have a similar drawing from a little while ago which does feature an odile kiss... so who cares i guess.

THERES ALSO ISA AND MIRA but they look really weird. i hadnt really figured out how to translate everyones designs into my artstyle so it looks kinda strange. the hair looks very small. i think my evolution in drawing these characters was just slowly making their hair bigger

[mintmatcha]

So does Kirishima ever threaten sero when he keeps asking about reader?

Sero's phone buzzes across the table, barely audible over the thrum of fake gunfire. The round's just begun, so Kirishima tries to ignore it, but his friend is already squirming in his seat.

"Someone's home from cram school." Sero's hunched over himself, controller basically in his face. His smile is suspiciously taut, lips parted over his perfectly straight teeth. "I'm out after this round."

Of course he is. That's all these sleepovers have become: charades for him to sneak over and see you.

"My dad's going to be pissed if he finds out you snuck out." Kirishima says. It's not really true - he'd probably applaud Sero before anything else - but the lie feels good to say. He's already jamming the controller harder than he should, the plastic edge digging into his palm.

"I'm not scared of your dad-- he loves me."

Kirishima sinks back into the couch. His character's already dead, laying there, waiting to be revived.

"I just-" He shouldn't say anything. "Can you not mess with her, please?"

With a snort, Sero looks over, his expression unchanged until he takes in Kirishima's look.

"What do you mean?" Sero shrugs, turning back to the television. "We just, like, hang out and junk. Watch some anime, make out. Nothing major."

"But she's really nice," Kirishima says, carefully. "And really lonely. If you're just gonna treat her like-"

With a grunt and a gasp, Sero's character's dead now too. He places his controller down pointedly.

"Like what?"

Kirishima swallows down the lump in his throat.

"Like every other girl." The red head crosses his arms. "If you're going to treat her like every other girl, you should just leave her alone."

Scoffing, Sero looks at his friend, lips parted in a clownish frown. "What does that mean?"

"You know what it means."

Sero pushes off of the couch.

"Whatever, Kirishima." He tucks his hands into his pockets, fists balled. "Just because you don't like girls-"

Everything goes hot. From his fingertips, to his toes, the the space behind his eyes, every part of Kirishima's body suddenly burns. The heavy space in his throat is suddenly dry, crumbling, sticking up any words that could possibly come out. All he can do is sit there and stare, eyes wide, expression gaunt.

"I like girls." Kirishima can't help but think that Sero looks particularly good in the low light - those soft child's features melting away into his late teens, cheekbone cut by the diffused light of the television screen- and that makes his stomach even more sour. "I'm not-- "

The tension shrinks out of Sero's body as he seems to process what he said. "I didn't mean it like that."

"I like girls."

"I didn't mean it like that, Kiri, just-"

Kirishima finds his feet. Sero's taller, but Kirishima's bigger, muscle built out from training. When he folds his arms, he bunches his biceps up and tucks his fists behind them. The harrowed heat inside him has changed to a burning anger.

"Do you even like girls?" The words tumble out on their own. "Because all you do is treat them like garbage. "

Sero laughs, light and airy in the way that only fuels the flame.

"We all know you're just acting like this-" Kirishima shouldn't say it. He's not even supposed to know; it's drama passed to him through classmates, whispered behind Sero's back- "Because your dad cheats on your mom."

Sero blinks as if he's been slapped. Then, he blinks again. His tongue rolls over his teeth, measuring his emotions.

"Don't talk about my mom."

"Don't say that I don't like girls!"

The silence between them is wild, like static. It burns, it demands to be filled by something other than Kirishima's heavy breathing, but instead they both look at each other, firm, resolved.

"Fine." Sero snatches his phone from the table. "Whatever, Kiri. Least I get to make out with people."

In three big steps, he's gone, into the hall and presumably out of the apartment all together. Kirishima's silence goes softer.

"I like girls," he says to the television screen.

[thegreatyin]

while on the topic of iron posting. a very small very insignificant thing that i really enjoy is that nobody really harasses it for not speaking. and like. we don't know precisely why it doesn't speak. it could be because it's mute, it could be due to an unseen injury, it could just be a selective choice, it could be that it never bothered to learn human language to begin with, etc etc. but there's never been a scene (at least as far as i can recall) where mr iron is specifically called out or pressured or anything of the sort. not even by its own haters 4 haters coworkers. and yeah this is realistically probably because its an ESPECIALLY deadly space bat that could kill you six ways from sunday if you pissed it off, but also, y'know, sometimes it's really nice just having a mute character that's treated Normally for once

[influxovsnux]

1. His vice president, Mike Pence: “The American people deserve to know that President Trump asked me to put him over my oath to the Constitution. … Anyone who puts himself over the Constitution should never be president of the United States.”

2. His second attorney general, Bill Barr: “Someone who engaged in that kind of bullying about a process that is fundamental to our system and to our self-government shouldn’t be anywhere near the Oval Office.”

3. His first secretary of defense, James Mattis: “Donald Trump is the first president in my lifetime who does not try to unite the American people – does not even pretend to try. Instead he tries to divide us.”

4. His second secretary of defense, Mark Esper: “I think he’s unfit for office. … He puts himself before country. His actions are all about him and not about the country. And then, of course, I believe he has integrity and character issues as well.”

5. His chairman of the joint chiefs, retired Gen. Mark Milley, seemed to invoke Trump: “We don’t take an oath to a wannabe dictator. We take an oath to the Constitution and we take an oath to the idea that is America – and we’re willing to die to protect it.”

6. His first secretary of state, Rex Tillerson: “(Trump’s) understanding of global events, his understanding of global history, his understanding of US history was really limited. It’s really hard to have a conversation with someone who doesn’t even understand the concept for why we’re talking about this.”

7. His first ambassador to the United Nations, Nikki Haley: “He used to be good on foreign policy and now he has started to walk it back and get weak in the knees when it comes to Ukraine. A terrible thing happened on January 6 and he called it a beautiful day.”

8. His presidential transition vice-chairman, Chris Christie: “Someone who I would argue now is just out for himself.”

9. His second national security adviser, HR McMaster: “We saw the absence of leadership, really anti-leadership, and what that can do to our country.”

10. His third national security adviser, John Bolton: “I believe (foreign leaders) think he is a laughing fool.”

11. His second chief of staff, John Kelly: “A person that has nothing but contempt for our democratic institutions, our Constitution, and the rule of law. There is nothing more that can be said. God help us.”

12. His former acting chief of staff, Mick Mulvaney, who resigned as US special envoy to Ireland after January 6, 2021: “I quit because I think he failed at being the president when we needed him to be that.”

13. One of his many former communications directors, Anthony Scaramucci: “He is the domestic terrorist of the 21st century.”

14. Another former communications director, Stephanie Grisham: “I am terrified of him running in 2024.”

15. His secretary of education, Betsy DeVos, who resigned after January 6: “When I saw what was happening on January 6 and didn’t see the president step in and do what he could have done to turn it back or slow it down or really address the situation, it was just obvious to me that I couldn’t continue.”

16. His secretary of transportation, Elaine Chao, who resigned after January 6: “At a particular point the events were such that it was impossible for me to continue, given my personal values and my philosophy.

17. His first secretary of the Navy, Richard Spencer: “…the president has very little understanding of what it means to be in the military, to fight ethically or to be governed by a uniform set of rules and practices.”

18. His first homeland security adviser, Tom Bossert: “The President undermined American democracy baselessly for months. As a result, he’s culpable for this siege, and an utter disgrace.”

19. His former personal lawyer and fixer, Michael Cohen: “Donald’s an idiot.”

20. His White House lawyer, Ty Cobb: “Trump relentlessly puts forth claims that are not true.”

21. A former director of strategic communications, Alyssa Farah Griffin, who is now a CNN political commentator: “We can stand by the policies, but at this point we cannot stand by the man.”

22. A top aide in charge of his outreach to African Americans, Omarosa Manigault Newman: “Donald Trump, who would attack civil rights icons and professional athletes, who would go after grieving black widows, who would say there were good people on both sides, who endorsed an accused child molester; Donald Trump, and his decisions and his behavior, was harming the country. I could no longer be a part of this madness.”

23. A former deputy press secretary, Sarah Matthews, who resigned after January 6: “I thought that he did do a lot of good during his four years. I think that his actions on January 6 and the lead-up to it, the way that he’s acted in the aftermath, and his continuation of pushing this lie that the election is stolen has made him wholly unfit to hold office every again.”

24. His final chief of staff’s aide, Cassidy Hutchinson: “I think that Donald Trump is the most grave threat we will face to our democracy in our lifetime, and potentially in American history.”

We have to beat him in numbers to high to contest

[amygdalae]

if i call one of my ocs goth its always because they really do enjoy darkwave music. and if theyre from a setting in which such music does not exist, i call them goth bc this character WOULD enjoy darkwave and its the greatest tragedy of their existence that they will never be able to appreciate darkwave

[lovelookspretty]

waking up to you

au!rafe cameron x reader

— in which you wake up in a strange alternate reality that just so happens to be the outer banks universe, and to your disbelief, you’re suddenly in a relationship with the shows most unlikely character, rafe cameron.

warnings: Y/N & RAFE DATE 😋 teasing, pretty safe chapter

authors note: btw readers only “weird” around cynthia bc ngl id act like that if i came across her bc shes so annoying on the show omg. but EEE hi guys. if u still arent part of the tag list, feel free to lmk thru replies, anons, dms, or reblogs !!

previous

you’re not surprised to wake up in rafe’s bed again. at this point, it’s almost routine, though every time still feels surreal.

you’ve gotten used to the soft sheets, the familiar scent of him on the pillows, and the way the morning light filters through the blinds just right, casting a warm glow over his peaceful, sleeping face.

he looks so different like this—calm, almost vulnerable. it’s a version of him that no one else really gets to see. and you? you don’t mind at all.

you take a quiet breath, just watching him for a moment longer. but then, his eyes flutter open, and you freeze, quickly closing your eyes to pretend like you’re still sleeping. maybe if you play it off well enough, he won’t—

a finger pokes at your side, and you can’t help the involuntary squirm and groan that escapes you. “rafe,” you mutter, barely opening one eye to glare at him. but he just grins, clearly pleased with himself for catching you.

“thought you were asleep,” he teases, voice rough from sleep, poking your side again until you half-heartedly swat at his hand.

“you’re so annoying,” you mumble, but the smile tugging at your lips betrays you. “get off of me.”

the morning quickly slips into a blur, and before you know it, you're tagging along with rafe for a ride around the island—except not just any ride. he’s got his dirt bike out, the same one you’d seen on the show.

you were kind of surprised when you first saw it in the garage. in the world you knew, rafe got this bike after the first episode started, but here? no rules seem to apply anymore.

you’re wrapped tightly around his torso, his helmet snug on your head as he drives the bike through town, on the beaches, through quiet streets and long stretches of open road. the wind whips past your face, and you can’t help but smile into it, arms locked around him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

eventually, he pulls up to some kook-itorium, the bike coming to a slow stop. rafe kicks the stand down and hops off first, turning to help you off like he always does. his hands are warm as they slide into yours, and for a second, he just holds them, staring down at you with a grin.

“so, what do you think?” he asks, pulling you a little closer as you hop off the bike. he’s been practically advertising himself on the way over here. “a date? hrm? just you n’ me. anywhere you want.”

you smile up at him. “yeah,” you say softly. “i’d like that.”

he tugs you toward the entrance of the building, still holding onto your hand. “just don’t pick somewhere like the seaview grill or— god, that lame museum your mom likes.”

when you step inside the building, it takes you a moment to realize where rafe has brought you. the place has that unmistakable country club vibe—polished, pristine, like every corner of it has been touched by money. but it’s smaller, rounder in shape, and more modern than the main country club building next door. servers move swiftly between tables, balancing trays and drinks. rafe, of course, heads straight past all of this, not even glancing at the downstairs dining area.

you follow him upstairs, past the busy floor where people are eating, drinking, and talking in their quiet, refined way. upstairs, though, it’s a whole different world.

the second floor is open and airy, with barely any walls to box anything in. it’s just the floor, held up by tall pillars that support the roof above, letting the fresh air and views of the island spill right in. the only structure that really stands out is the bar in the middle—a sleek, modern setup that takes up a good portion of the space, all glossy wood and glass shelves stocked with high-end bottles.

the place is filled with kooks, most of them middle-aged. they don’t seem to notice you and rafe, or if they do, they don’t care. oh right, rafe should be about 22 now, legal to drink here. does that make the others 18 and 19?

anyway, rafe is clearly familiar here. a few nods are thrown his way as he leads you forward, and he nods back, murmuring casual greetings under his breath as you weave between tables. you’re amused, but there’s a small part of you that’s bothered.

you thought maybe rafe had brought you here for food downstairs, but it’s pretty clear now that this is just one of his regular stops to get a drink—probably whiskey or even scotch, knowing him. but you keep your mouth shut, not wanting to spoil the mood.

he finally lets go of your hand when he reaches the bar, leaning against the counter with crossed arms as he asks for his drink. you linger beside him for a second, glancing around the open space. the view from up here is stunning, with a perfect sightline to the docks and the country club’s main establishment just next door.

you rub your arm awkwardly, feeling a little out of place among all the well-dressed older folks. after a beat, you step closer to rafe, gently touching his arm to get his attention. “i’m gonna go use the restroom,” you say quietly.

he nods, not taking his eyes off the bartender. but before you can turn to leave, he grabs your arm, tugging you back toward him for a quick kiss. it’s his way of saying 'be safe,' you guess, a small gesture that makes you smile despite the surroundings. you give his arm a gentle squeeze in return, then slip away to head downstairs.

just as you’re descending the steps, though, a familiar voice drifts up toward you. and then you see him—topper, making his way up the stairs. your heart sinks in the half-second you have to process it.

great. the last time you talked to him was at the party, when he was stumbling over some half-assed apology. and now here he is, about to cross your path.

fantastic. just what you needed.

the moment his eyes land on you, there’s a flicker of recognition that lights up his face, just for a moment—like spotting an old acquaintance in a crowd.

“y/n!” he says, his hands coming up as if he’s presenting you to the world. he glances at his mom as if to say, ‘look who it is’. you can feel your heart rate pick up as you pause on the steps, furrowing your brows at them.

they were definitely just talking about you right before this.

you force a smile, but it’s small and tight, barely breaking through your unease. “hi, topper,” you mumble, glancing between him and his mom. there’s a brief moment of silence as you weigh your options—whether to continue this conversation or slip away.

ultimately, you choose the latter. you take a step forward, moving past them and continuing down the stairs, leaving them behind. as you go, you can feel topper’s eyes on you.

he glances down at his shoes and shifts awkwardly, but then, just as quickly, he looks up again. “come on, let’s just go upstairs,” he insists to his mom, trying to shake it off as they both start moving again.

it’s not that you wanted to dismiss topper and his mom or anything. really, you just don’t see the point in lingering in the middle of a public staircase, one of the only two that connected the floors of the country club. you don’t want to be rude, but you also don’t want to talk to topper—especially after your last encounter at the party.

topper and his mom step off the stairs, but the moment topper spots rafe, a grin spreads across his face.

“hey, good seein’ you back here again,” topper greets, approaching the bar with a friendly demeanor.

rafe daps him up casually. “you too, man,” rafe replies, genuinely glad to see him.

topper's mom stands just a foot away, carrying her purse and looking utterly uninterested in the interaction, her gaze flicking off to the side as if she’s assessing the other patrons. she’s never been a fan of rafe, just barely tolerating him because he comes from a good family, and it shows in the way she avoids direct eye contact.

pulling away from the handshake, toppers eyes glance back toward the staircase as if expecting you to appear at any moment. “saw you and y/n come in,” he adds, “just wanted to say hi.”

rafe nods with a smile as he leans back against the bar, one elbow resting casually on the counter. he glances at topper’s mom. “hey, cynthia,” he says, flashing her a grin.

her expression shifts from indifference to surprise, and then it hardens, almost offended by the casual familiarity. she’s always been the type to keep her distance from him, and rafe knows it. to her, he’s still just another troublemaker, another bad influence.

topper notices the slight tension and looks back to rafe, his brow furrowing slightly. “so, what’s up with y/n?” he asks, his tone casual but laced with a hint of concern.

rafe squints, his head cocking to the side as he regards topper. “what do you mean, ‘what’s up’?” he replies, his voice subtly defensive and carrying a hint of warning. “is there something wrong with her?”

topper realizes how that might sound and shakes his head quickly. “no, no, man. i just think she’s, like . . . avoiding me or something,” he clarifies, waving a hand dismissively as if trying to brush off any potential drama.

rafe chuckles, raising his glass up to his lips. “are you surprised?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at topper, the teasing tone evident. he shakes his head, a look of amusement on his face. “girls, man.”

cynthia catches the comment, her expression shifting to one of disapproval. she mutters a clipped ‘ten minutes’ to her son before leaving without a word, turning on her heel and heading toward the stairs to leaving topper there with him.

topper watches her go, feeling the weight of the awkwardness settle over him. he glances back at rafe, who is now watching the scene unfold with a smirk, clearly amused by the whole thing.

“so, what are you guys up to?” topper asks, trying to steer the conversation back to safer waters.

when you step out of the bathroom, you spot her immediately—cynthia, standing at the bottom of the stairs like she’s waiting for her son. you briefly consider turning around, maybe pretending not to notice, but it’s too late. her sharp gaze finds yours, and there’s no escaping it now.

this is great.

you adjust your posture, trying to look casual as you make your way toward the stairs, your mind racing for an excuse to cut this conversation short. the last thing you want is to get caught up with cynthia—if she’s anything like the way she was on the show, you are not open to a conversation.

but it’s like you’re trapped. her eyes lock on you, and she takes a few steps forward in those polished black heels. “y/n,” she says, and there’s a hint of something icy behind that tone, even though she’s putting on a smile.

you stop, eyebrows raising as you stand in place, trying to gauge the situation. her smile is forced, you can tell immediately, but so is yours as you mirror her expression. “cynthia, it’s so . . . nice to see you again,” you say, the words slipping out of your mouth because, well, kooks always know kooks, right? you assume this universe’s y/n has seen her before.

but as soon as the words leave your mouth, cynthia’s expression shifts—her lips purse, and her eyes narrow slightly, pulling her head back like you’ve just said something ridiculous. yep. that was wrong. completely wrong.

“last time i saw you, you were just a kid! every time you come over to my home now, it’s like you’re always sneaking around,” she remarks, her voice dripping with that fake kindness, the kind that’s so transparently bitter it almost stings.

your stomach twists. yeah, this is definitely not the conversation you wanted. “and how are your parents?” cynthia continues, her tone casual but her eyes sharp.

you wave your hand, trying to shrug it off like it’s no big deal. “they’re great! in costa rica right now, on vacation,” you respond, trying to keep things light.

but cynthia hums, her expression a little too knowing. “i heard it was a business trip?” she says, tilting her head slightly.

you clear your throat, feeling the tension grow. this woman is the worst. you’re slipping up so bad. “mix of both,” you say, your voice strained as you force another fake smile.

there’s a brief, uncomfortable silence before the two of you lean forward, laughing in that awkward, forced way where neither of you are actually amused. the laugh dies quickly, and as soon as it does, you drop the pretense, turning on your heel as you head back upstairs, feeling weird about the interaction.

you feel like you were just quizzed. and you failed.

once you’re back upstairs, you immediately catch rafe’s eye as you step into the room. he’s leaning casually against one of the tables, a glint in his eye that matches the small smirk tugging at his lips the second he spots you.

his whole demeanor shifts, but topper, who’s mid-sentence, doesn’t seem to notice right away—until he realizes rafe isn’t paying attention. topper twists around to follow his line of sight, spotting you before continuing whatever rant he was on.

rafe briefly glances back at him, half-listening, as you approach the two of them. when you get close enough, you quietly reach for rafe’s glass, bringing it to your nose to smell whatever’s left of his drink. without a word, you tilt your head back and down what’s left, swallowing with a grimace as you place the empty glass back on the table.

both boys stare at you, each reacting differently. topper furrows his brow, eyes flicking to the glass to see if there’s anything left. “what’s up with you?” he asks, confused, clearly sensing something off.

rafe, on the other hand, is looking at you with a blank expression, though there’s a hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth—because he knows. “she was definitely just talking to your mom, top,” rafe says with a knowing smile, his tone carrying just the right amount of humor to suggest that, naturally, a conversation with cynthia would drive someone to drink.

topper’s face falls slightly, but he doesn’t even argue. he just glances between the two of you in silence because he knows rafe’s probably right. with a quick check of his phone, he pushes away from the table, his energy deflating. “alright, i’ve gotta go. see you guys.”

“bye, top,” you murmur, watching as he walks off, leaving just you and rafe standing together. once topper’s out of sight, you tilt your head all the way up, meeting rafe’s gaze with a lazy, playful smile.

“you decide on where we’re going?” rafe asks, sliding an arm around you, pulling you close as he starts guiding you toward the stairs.

you hum for a long moment, trying to think, before making something up on the spot. “let’s go jet skiing,” you say, half-joking but testing the waters to see what he’d say.

rafe raises his eyebrows, a slight chuckle escaping him. “you wanna go to monty’s?” he repeats, and you assume it could be some jet ski rental place you must go to. he’s amused but surprisingly open to it. “we can go to monty’s, darlin’.”

rafe drives the two of you out to some place a mile or two away, the sign out front reading ‘montgomery’s jet ski rentals’ in bold blue letters. it’s tucked away along a small marina.

you step out of the car. it’s here that you notice the way rafe moves—a kind of quiet confidence that’s hard to ignore. he strides toward the dock with his head held high, like he’s done this a hundred times. you can’t tell if it’s because you two have apparently been here so often that he just knows his way around or if he’s just naturally this confident.

while rafe chats easily with the staff, laughing and slapping one guy on the back like they’re old friends, you find yourself preparing for the ride. you slip into a life vest, adjusting the straps so it fits snugly.

then you’re stepping onto the dock, the jet ski bobbing gently in the water. rafe climbs on first, settling into the front seat, and turns back to offer you his hand. you take it, letting him guide you into place behind him, and then you wrap your arms around his waist. it feels natural, like you’re meant to be there, holding onto him like this.

and, god, the thought hits you—this is probably a dream for hundreds, maybe thousands of people. to be on a jet ski with drew starkey, any version of him, arms wrapped around his waist, close enough to feel the warmth of his back.

it’s a little surreal, and you can’t help but feel grateful for this weird fucking alternate universe you’re in. being a kook, being rafe cameron’s girlfriend, living out days like this—you could get used to it. you could live like this forever.

rafe glances forward, that cocky smirk barely visible at the corner of his lips. without looking back at you, he mutters, “hold on.” and before you have a chance to reply, he twists the throttle, and the jet ski leaps forward, tearing across the water. your arms instinctively tighten around his waist as the engine roars, and you feel the force of the speed pushing you back slightly.

your eyes widen as you’re propelled across the open water. the jet ski skims over waves. you can barely keep from laughing as the wind whips through your hair. it’s fast—so much faster than you expected—and your heart is beating more than ever.

rafe steers you two in wide, looping turns and tight figure-eights, shouting the loudest, most carefree ‘woo!’ that you think you’ve ever heard. his voice carries over the hum of the engine and the slap of the waves, his laughter echoing as you cling on, a laughing mess yourself.

as the jet ski finally begins to slow, you let your chin rest on his back, just near his shoulder so you can look out ahead. you’re both breathing heavily from the ride, and he’s still grinning, clearly thrilled by his own reckless route. he isn’t heading anywhere specific, just weaving around, but that’s what makes it even better. there’s no destination—just you, him, and the freedom of open water.

“wanna take over?” rafe calls out, and you laugh, thinking he’s kidding. but when he glances back over his shoulder, you catch his expression and feel your own smile falter, realizing he’s dead serious.

next thing you know, you’re seated in front, fingers gripping the throttle while rafe sits behind you, holding on with that unshakeable grin of his. the jet ski jolts forward as you try to get the hang of the controls, and you immediately feel the panic rise, the machine moving faster than you expected.

“rafe, i don’t know what i’m doing!” you shout over your shoulder, but rafe’s only response is laughter.

“just go easy on the throttle,” he says, half-shouting and half-laughing as you attempt to steer. but the jet ski wobbles, veering off a bit too quickly, and your grip slips.

“rafe!” you yell, barely keeping control as he’s practically doubled over behind you, finding the whole thing hysterical. he tries to guide you through it, but it’s impossible to listen when you’re both shouting and laughing, the jet ski zigzagging across the water.

but it slows. he wants to teach you properly.

you feel rafe's hands slip over yours, his fingers resting gently against yours as he takes control of the throttle from behind. his touch is firm but relaxed, guiding your grip as he leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. “steady now,” he murmurs. “ease it forward like this, yeah?”

you nod. his voice is a steady hum as he talks you through it. “just a little pressure here,” he says, pressing lightly against the throttle. “see? easy.” his fingers guide yours over the controls until you can feel how each movement changes the jet ski’s pace.

after a minute or two, he lets you take over, his hands staying in place to catch you if needed, but he’s not pushing or pulling anymore. you start to feel it, understanding the rhythm of the throttle and how to steer, and rafe just chuckles.

“that’s my girl,” he says, patting his hand on the spot between your thigh and hip, sending a flutter through you as his hand settles back around you.

a grin stretches across your face, and before you know it, you’re letting out a loud scream that echoes across the water as you pick up speed, trusting yourself more with every second. you’re moving faster, the wind whipping past, and for a moment you feel invincible.

when you decide to slow down, you ease off the throttle, leaning back just enough to press into rafe’s chest. you feel his laugh rumble against you. it makes you smile as you let out a breathy laugh of your own. then, you’re off again, speeding forward with rafe’s steadying hands nearby, the two of you gliding over the waves like you were born to do this together.

you’re both sitting across from each other at a little table outside a bayside café. you pick up your sandwich and take a big, satisfying bite, eyes rolling back with a muffled oh my god because it's just that good.

you didn’t realize how hungry you were until now. you lean your head back, savoring the taste, a content sigh escaping as you sit up again, still chewing, and glance at rafe across the table.

he’s got his phone out, scrolling with his eyebrows furrowed, the lines on his forehead deepening behind his sunglasses. he’s squinting slightly, or maybe he’s just annoyed by whatever’s on the screen. you pause mid-bite, lowering your sandwich slightly before asking, “you okay?”

rafe clears his throat, not looking at you just yet, and clicks his phone off. he flips it over on the table, his hand rubbing down the front of his shorts like he’s brushing something off. “yeah, all good,” he says, reaching for his own food, voice casual, but there’s a tension you can sense from his reaction.

it doesn’t add up, but you decide not to push it. you’ve learned when to give him space, and right now, you’re way more into this sandwich than trying to open up that conversation.

you take another bite, glancing around at the scene in front of you as you chew. it’s a perfect day, bay glistening in the sunlight, people passing. by with relaxed smiles, stopping in at shops or heading toward the water. montgomery’s rentals is right across the street, jet skis and kayaks lining the dock.

rafe leans back in his chair, “dad’s finally starting to trust me to, like, step into his position at the company.” he pauses for a beat, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “he’s flying out of state next week, and he’s leavin’ me in charge while he’s gone.”

you just stare at him, a faint smile tugging at your lips without even realizing it. you can feel the pride in your expression as you tell him, “rafe, that’s really good. i’m proud of you.”

he grins wider, clearly trying to play it cool, and then takes a massive, messy bite of his sandwich. he chews with the gusto of someone who thinks a bite is a whole experience, sauce smearing slightly at the corner of his mouth.

you reach over instinctively, dabbing at the corner of his mouth with a napkin and tossing it back down on the table before going back to your sandwich like it’s second nature.

he swallows and continues, “he hasn’t really told me much, but i figure he’s got some new properties lined up, maybe working out deals or, like, finalizing stuff with investors. you know how he is.”

“yeah, that sounds like ward,” you say, taking another bite, your eyes never leaving him.

“so he’s gonna give me this schedule,” he adds, “a ‘run-down’ or whatever, of what i’ll need to cover. probably sit at the office, sign some stuff, and meet with clients or partners who can’t be pushed off until he’s back.”

“sounds pretty official,” you say, trying to imagine rafe at a desk, talking clients through real estate deals like he was born for it. “do you know what kind of properties he’s working on?”

he shrugs, a small smirk still lingering as he speaks. “knowing him? probably something big—new development or another investment property he wants to secure. he’s been hinting at something ‘game-changing’, like some waterfront project.”

you hum thoughtfully. “so you’ll be doing the groundwork? like, maybe even closing a deal?”

“yeah, maybe,” he says, sounding a little impressed with himself. “i’ll actually get to see if i can handle it.”

it's nice to see rafe so eager to step up, to take on something this big, probably just to prove himself to his dad. he always acts so casual about the family business, but there’s a spark in his eyes today, and you think . . . he can maybe handle being ward cameron for a week.

you just hope you can stay here long enough to see him prove it.

he’s finishing his sandwich, wiping his mouth with a crumpled napkin, and suddenly he’s looking right at you. “oh, yeah—did you ever tell me how that call went with your mom?”

it takes you a second. right, that call with your mom. you remember mentioning it to sarah, but rafe? he still doesn’t even know you hung out with sarah and the others while he was off fishing with ward.

“oh, yeah,” you say, smiling as if the thought just occurred to you. “it was fine. nice to hear from her, i guess. i miss them.” you shrug, playing it casual. but the truth is, you kind of do.

rafe nods, shifting his empty plate and leaning back in his chair, still watching you as he says, “that’s good. i mean, you get so wrapped up in life on the island, it’s easy to go a while without catching up.”

he talks on, making small comments about family and how he totally gets it, but as you sit there, nodding occasionally, your mind is somewhere else entirely.

you almost forgot about that call with your ‘in-this-universe mom.’ it seems so strange—no, it’s stranger that you forgot about it at all. and dad . . . right, your i.t.u. dad was there, too, wasn’t he?

wait . . what?

you feel a slight prickle of discomfort, shifting in your seat as you try to catch every third word rafe’s saying, but really, your mind is circling back to that call.

dad. mom. two words, so familiar. but why are they slipping through your fingers, blurring just a bit?

you force yourself to remember something about them, to pull up a memory, clear as day.

oh! like that one time you and mom spent the whole afternoon baking, sugar and flour coating every surface in the kitchen . . . and dad was there, wasn’t he? but what did he do? your chest tightens, just slightly, and you fidget with your napkin.

okay, try again.

dad. right. he was . . . wait, no, he was definitely there—no, he was doing something.

and then, just like that, the memory clicks into place. right, he’d taken one look at the mess you and mom made, then grabbed the dog and headed out, calling back that he’d be home ‘once the tornado’s over,’ and you and mom laughed.

you exhale, relief washing over you, but there’s still a flicker of something unsettling. why couldn’t you remember that right away?

you try another memory, to reassure yourself. dad did this, mom did that. you’re sifting through so many small, precious fragments, but there’s something strange about each one, something hollow.

the parents you remember—your parents—were so vivid before. but as you replay these memories in your head, they feel softer, blurred at the edges. somehow, they seem more like your parents here—the way they’re talking, laughing, looking at you with the same expressions as your i.t.u. parents.

your stomach twists, realization beginning to dawn, but you can’t even hold onto what that realization is. the longer you stay in this world, the harder it seems to be to grasp what was real and what was . . . this.

are you forgetting your memories?

authors note: okay poor execution LMAO but i know if i was y/n, i wouldve wanted to stay in this universe but we cant have that, so essentially the conflict / the thing that makes her work harder to solve all the relationships in this life for obx!y/n is that shes losing her memories from her real life the longer shes there.

does that make sense?? 😭 like she cant have her cake n eat it too, she can only have one lifetimes memories, her real ones or the ones that belong to the y/n who lives in this universe. makes her work faster to get back to her world so she doesnt feel like she can stay !!

tags: @v2los @cosmixstar @meeuhsworld @lovdrew @lilithblackkk @rovckwells @cherrylooney @iissza @namelesslosers @cocolovey @rafeyswrd @odairtrqsh @gretag13 @vivian-555 @lunaleah @smol-coffee-addict @twinge-vix @drewsephrry @behindviolettwrites @avngrssckr @stonerroadbull @cali-888 @coquettajob @simpingcorner @nymphetkoo @pinkpantheris @ilyrafe @romaescapes @thereallifebambi @inaluvrsworld @rafesweetie @faephoria @solo-pitstop-vibes @my-fabulousness-has-arrived @sgecorrow @rafesgiirl @ravisinghs-wife @booksntings @tinyfairies @maybankslover @honeyluvsatj @darleneslane @alysaaaa444 @w4nnabeurs @thewrittenpodcast @watersquirtpewpewboomm @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @benbarneslut @illicit-affcirs @helo1281917 ++

[sweetheartsaku]

(BLLK) LOVE BELT.

𝜗𝜚 BLUE LOCK VARIOUS: MYOSOTIS (FORGET ME NOT).

a/n: [fem!reader] AHHHHH FIRST BLLK POST!!!!! LASTEST FIXTATION!!!! hopefully not too ooc huhu

— characters: isagi, kunigami, nagi, reo

isagi yoichi ; love belt - jonghyun, yunha

ties your shoes for you!!!!! doesn't care if it holds back the group or how long it makes them stop for. double knot, never too tight (the occasional times my guy friends tie my laces i swear i lose circulation in my feet 😔).

embodiment of a beabadoobee song! hes such a sweetheart (apart from on the field) n' kisses you lightly on the corner of your lips or on your eyelid, holds you a little higher than your hip and hugs you with his arms supporting your back from beneath.

your mama loves him more than you do, i fear (ᵕ—ᴗ—) bro fr pulled up to your house with a rose for your mama and a mug for your dad, because who is he to pull up to his girlfriend's house without gifts for your parents? (with intentions of getting to know what they're like so the wedding goes smooth) how can you expect your mama not to fall for him after he offers to help wash the dishes?

learns all the little things you like, has a note on his phone with your fruit tea and coffee order. knows what type of materials you like, especially to the girls who have sensory issues 🫡. he always has you in mind, buying hoodies and shirts that not only he likes, but you like

in conclusion, spectacular gimme 14 more of em'

kunigami rensuke ; no. 1 party anthem - arctic monkeys

ALWAYS THE FIRST TO INITIATE. always plans dates first. has anniversary ideas months prior. he has your order memorized and makes sure the date won't ruin your latest set of nails.

holds your leg when you bounce it ! very worried when you do. always looks around for a little. is it cold? are there weird guys?

he's so boyfriend i just wanna kiss him, tells you to wear whatever you want because he can fight (#needthat)! kunigami one of the most boyfriend in the show pre wildcard! ദ്ദി(•̀ ᴗ - ) ☆

do you guys know that trend when there's a girl then her boyfriend comes in and swoops her away (or is it just me HELP hopefully i don't sound crazy)?? but he does it so effortlessly omg. didn’t spend that long in the gym for nothing

mornings are the hardest because his diligence and discipline for the gym are out of the roof. but he’s not completely heartless! kunigami feels really bad as you sleep uncomfortably without him, tossing and turning just missing the grasp that once held you. worst bit is when you wake up the same time as him, but you’re a lot sleepier, resulting in you weakly catching his wrist. breaks his heart whenever he has to go and presses a chaste kiss to your temple >3<

holds your waist on public transport. smells like axe body spray /hj

nagi seishirou ; no one noticed - the marías

BLANKET HOG!!!!!! unfortunately, you're always cold because sometimes you can find yourself freezing your toes off in the middle of the night because this little sloth feeds off warmth. if not wrapping the entire blanket around himself, is practically on top of you with his nose nestled in the crook of your neck and his lips basically on your collarbone as you run your hands through white locks (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

fiddles with the hem of your shirt or loose drawstrings on your pants. his hand in the pocket nearest to your butt, fidgets with your rings and knows which ones go on which finger by heart.

very very very immersed when you paint your nails or get them done. but nagi takes a good 5 minutes to stare at them (especially if there's charms on them) and a girl would be confused. but in reality, he just really likes them (but, he'd prefer if they'd run through his hair instead).

doesn't get the stuff on tall shelves on purpose SUPER SENIOR ALERT WEE WOO WEEWOO!!!!!!! either because its "too much of a hassle" or because he wants to get a reaction out of you (cruel)

falls asleep in movies sooo quickly its adorable. 30 minutes into the movie his head is on your shoulder. scared, due to his tall nature that he'd get neck pain when he wakes up, you have to gently pat him awake (੭˃ᴗ˂)੭ and he'll ask you to carry him (???)

reo mikage ; love maze - BTS

zip up your jackets, wraps your scarves. holds your hands when your cold and rubs them with his!!!!

reo's favourite place to kiss you is your hand. craves the intimacy of it all. as his princess what the hell are you doing without a kiss to your hand before every door you open? (you don't remember the last time you opened a door before you started dating reo)

apart from the soccer club, most likely plays in a band as well. occasional school-related gigs here and there and a few enjoyable get-togethers with his friends to just play whatever. watch his performances! (SOOO cheesy!!!! says "this is for you, [name]" before he starts his pasilyo cover.)

cooks' breakfast on hard weeks. when everything seems to be falling apart, your boyfriend will always be there to help you pick up the pieces, even if it's just the little things. when you're sick GYATT DAHH will you be feeling better in days!!!!! he'll keep distance but won't hesitate to move a strand of hair from your mouth as he spoon feeds you or place the back of his hand on your forehead. but also, doesn't mind being sick if it meant you were ok.

promise rings promise rings promise rings. did i mention promise rings? its either the crazy big, expensive diamond or a simple one in silver that has his initial on the inside <33