#but god if it doesn't make me feel absolutely stupid sometimes

[genevievewindsong]

Got back ingame for the first time in ages, and I already feel my soul leaving my body because of this stupid dressage test lol Please SSO, I am mentally ill and so tired, and my brain legitimately can’t memorize patterns like this, I can not remember the exact angle of an invisible circle, please just let me keep the arrows.  :C

[99woez]

don't talk about it ᰔᩚ j.sc

warnings. smut, best friend!sungchan, roommate!sungchan, arguing, it's a dumb argument but you are fighting this man, physical fighting, just shoving nothing crazy but a physical altercation starts this all, unprotected sex, hair pulling, some angst? idk if i missed something let me know! i also did not proofread this because i got out 5k words in one night which is crazy for me. anyways, enjoy!

wc. 5k

summary. your best friend embarrasses you in front of your campus crush. so, of course, you decide to fight with him in the living room and learn some interesting things about him in the process.

Sungchan had always been stupidly large, in your opinion.

He was so large that you couldn’t resist the urge to playfully test his strength, curious to see how his fit frame would react to your playful jabs or if he would sway with a gentle nudge. He would playfully push you back, never with full force, but these light-hearted scuffles became a regular part of your friendship. It was a source of joy, a shared silliness, it meant everything.

Except for the times it did.

“You’re so stupid sometimes, oh my god!” You shouted at your so-called “best friend,” shoving hard into his chest. This shove wasn’t like the ones you usually gave him. This one was harsh and mean. There was not a semblance of anything alluding to happiness on your face as you looked up at Sungchan with knitted brows and parted lips, shoving hard into his firm chest once again, this time with a shout of frustration.

If we’re being honest, you two have been drinking. It’s not like you’re shitfaced and neither is he, but the alcohol is just enough to make the world blurry at the edges and your words harsher than you typically allow them to be. His chest, solid as a boulder beneath your pushing palms, doesn't yield like it usually would during your fond roughhousing. He stands firm, his expression teetering between annoyance and worry.

"Stop it," he gruffly says, grabbing your wrists mid-shove. Just like that, the playful laughter that usually echoes between you two gets choked in the tension-filled silence. You try to yank your hands-free, but his grip is firm yet gentle. He was never rough with you, even when the fights turned serious like this. It was a rarity for things to turn nasty, but sometimes Sungchan was so oblivious you couldn’t stop yourself from lashing out at him, especially with a few mixed drinks in your system.

“Let go,” You snapped. Sungchan leans in with a tilt of his head, letting out a “Hm?” as he does so, challenging you.

“Chill out first.” That did the exact opposite of chill you out. You hated it when he took that tone of voice with you, as if you were some child that needed to be put into a timeout. 

There were many things you loved about Sungchan: His kindness, his dedication to anything he sets his mind to, his eyes, you loved a lot about Sungchan, but there were many things you couldn’t stand about him. He was oblivious to the simplest of social cues, he got loud when he was drunk, and the way he comforted people was an absolute joke. If you hadn’t known him for more than half your life and shared an apartment with him, you would’ve ditched him when you two graduated high school.

But you didn’t. Now, you’re stuck with a big, dumb roommate who loves telling the men you like that you like them. God, Wonbin was never going to talk to you again after the scene Sungchan caused trying to get him to give you his number. You still can feel the embarrassment hot in your veins, making you lurch forward and finally give his chest a shove that makes him stumble a few steps.

“I won’t chill out! I won’t! What you did was fucking rude!” You yelled, pointing a finger in his face to punctuate your words and get your point across. Sungchan scoffed, turning his head away from you, but you could see his tongue press against the inside of his cheek, making the skin push out slightly. It was a habit of his you had noticed when you two went to parties together in college. It’s what he does when he’s annoyed and holding himself back, beating someone’s ass. It’s a rare occasion for Sungchan to beat someone’s ass, but when it did happen, it was always deserved. Typically, it would be a drunk guy who wanted to buck up to the biggest guy at the party, a one-sided battle of masculinity that Sungchan always won, no matter who came up to him. You’ve only seen Sungchan throw a punch twice in your entire friendship.

Once, when you were in high school, and the last time was at a party during your junior year of college when a man put his hands on you despite you telling him to fuck off. The other times, he had simply told you about when you’d see him in the kitchen with littered bruises on his body. You think about that night more often than you’d like to admit. Sungchan didn’t hesitate to throw a punch for you, knocking the man clean out by the time he was done with him. It lit a fire in you that you’re not proud to admit. There was just something in his eyes that rubbed your brain right. You would never admit it, but were desperate to see that look again. You wanted to see him angry, to watch him lose control no matter how fucked up it sounds.

“Get your hand out of my face,” Sungchan told you firmly, looking you in the eyes to get his point across, but you weren’t deterred. You step closer to him, finger still in his face.

“No. Not until you apologize. Admit it was rude. You were rude.”

“I wasn’t fucking rude,” Sungchan argues, swatting your hand down when you don’t move it from his face. You bring it back up without a care of the consequences, resulting in a game of him swatting your hand down every time you bring it up.

You two look stupid. Thank God this is in the privacy of your living room.

“You had no right-”

“You were never going to talk to him if I didn’t! You’re a chicken-”

“I’m not a fucking chicken––Oh my god, don’t call me a bird.”

“You’re such a fucking chicken, dude. Do you remember how long it took you to even talk to Shotaro? Months. ‘Took you months to even say hi to him, and that’s because-”

“Shut up.”

“That’s because I had to step it! I was the one to get you to talk to him!” Sungchan continued with a shit-eating grin, voice picking up volume as he leaned down to get closer to you as if you couldn’t hear him clear enough, pointing to himself like he had won some kind of award. Your already flushed cheeks begin to heat up when you remember the Shotaro incident of 2022. He always brought up Shotaro, and even if it was just to pick on you playfully, it still struck a nerve. You were more shy than Sungchan ever was, always letting him start the conversations or introduce you to new people. Half of your friends are Sungchan’s friends; half of the people you’ve dated are because Sungchan knew them first. Every connection in your life could be traced back to Sungchan, which drove you insane.

“Now, you want to talk all this shit because you got embarrassed I had to step in again and help you get some dick,” Sungchan pressed, his grin turning into a smirk as he nodded at his words, feeling them in his being because they’re true. You stared at him with contempt, teeth grinding as your fists balled up tightly. “You should be thanking me. You’re so ungrateful for everything-”

You lunged at him. You swear you don’t have control of your body when you do it, you just throw your entire weight into his chest and hope for the best. Sungchan let out an “Oof!” sound when you collided with him, staggering back and hitting the ground with you on top of him. You act as if you two are playfully wrestling, but none of your movements have an ounce of playfulness in them. You straddled his hips firmly as you shoved at his hands harshly to get them away from grabbing you. You knew once he got his hands on you, it was over. He’d flip you two over, and it’d be done. You couldn’t let him win this. You couldn’t do it. You had to prove it to him.

You don’t know what it was, but you had to prove it.

You grab his hair tightly, jerking his head off the carpet to distract him, tugging hard on the brown locks. Sungchan lets out a yelp that sounds pathetic. His eyes squeezed shut as his large hands wrapped around your wrist to try and pull you off of him.

“Not fair-” He started. You shake his head, eliciting another yelp from him.

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up,” You spat at him, shaking him again. His face contorted in pain and confusion, groaning softly as he did what you told him for once. You couldn’t believe he actually listened. Truthfully, you didn’t think you’d get this far. You’re not exactly sure what to do next. So, you shake his head again, making him hiss when you tugged harder on his locks. “Can’t fucking stand you, you know that? You’re such a jerk sometimes. Just big, stupid, and taking up space.” You shake his head around with every word, watching him drop his hands and put them up in front of him in faux surrender, but he doesn’t say anything. He only whined and grunted when you pulled on his hair harder than usual.

You waited for him to spit something back at you, to call you a coward, to say you needed him, but nothing but pants left his plush lips. You furrow your brows in confusion at his silence. Sungchan was never quiet. You shake him again.

“Hello? Say something!” You shake his head again, this time back and forth. You won’t lie. It was fun to have him like this. He acted like some kind of puppet that you were the master of, pulling him around in whichever direction you wanted him to go in, and he just took it. Sungchan sighed in defeat, keeping his eyes shut tightly.

“My dick just twitched.” 

Oh.

“Excuse me?” You couldn’t think of anything else to say. Your hands, which had been roughly pulling at Sungchan's hair, suddenly freeze. Your heart pounds in your chest as you gaze down at him, cocking a brow at him. His face is flushed a deep crimson, though whether from embarrassment or something else, you can't tell.

"I said," he starts again, much slower this time, swallowing hard, "My... my dick just twitched."

You blink at his repeated confession, not expecting him to repeat the words. There’s a tension growing between the two of you that you’ve never felt before, making your throat dry as you stare at Sungchan’s embarrassed face, watching his chest rise and fall as he pants beneath you. Flashes of what he’d look like without his shirt flash in your brain, wondering what sounds he’d make as you sink down on him, how his eyes would look, how the muscles would ripple under his––Jesus Christ, get it together, girl. You remind yourself, clearing your throat down at him.

“Like…Seriously?” Sungchan nods at your dry words, opening his eyes slowly to look up at you. A switch in your brain is flipped when you see his big brown eyes. He looks utterly pathetic like this, hair in your hand revealing his forehead, eyes pleading for something silent, and lips in a perfect soft pout. You wanted to take his picture like the actual definition of pitiful.

You chuckle at him, shaking him again and tugging his hair hard to see if it really did anything for him. He whines again, shutting his eyes as his hands lurch towards your hips, holding tightly with a sharp breath through his teeth. You smirk at his reaction, raising your brows in slight shock it was this easy to get him going. Maybe it was the alcohol, you think. You’ve seen Sungchan shove his tongue down girls’ throats just mere minutes after he met them, but this is you. You’re his best friend, his roommate, the girl who beat his ass for talking to her crush for her. You know you’re pretty, and Sungchan is just a man, but you’re still caught off guard by it all.

Your palm still cradled his scalp, thumb lazily tracing small circles at the base of his hairline. Sungchan’s hands on your hips squeeze gently, fingers digging into your flesh just a bit more than necessary and causing a shiver to wind its way up your spine.

Without thinking, you leaned forward and claimed Sungchan's lips in a rough, desperate kiss. His taste was different than any guy you've ever kissed - salty with a hint of beer and lime from the drink he had tonight. You wrapped your hand tightly around the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you as your other hand found its way under his shirt to feel his warm skin. You didn't let up when he moaned into your mouth, feeling your touch while he tentatively kissed you back. Your anger turned into desperation quickly as you slipped your tongue into his mouth, tasting him fully now. His lips were soft and plush against yours as they parted slightly to let you in further. You moaned the moment your tongues slid together, digging your nails into his toned chest as he pressed in further, sucking softly on the slick muscle in your mouth.

Sungchan's hands moved up your body, gripping your waist and still pulling you closer. The fabric of your shirt scratching against his rough palms made you shiver with anticipation for more contact. You grind down on him out of instinct, feeling the bulge in his pants grow as he groans against your mouth, wanting more from both of you. His scent filled your senses - a mix of sweat and cologne and something uniquely Sungchan that made you want more.

The sound of his rhythmic grunts filled the room, a mix of desire and surprise in every breath he took. His fingers dug into your skin through your shirt, and you moaned into his mouth once more. Your breath hitched when he bit down on your lower lip gently, making you gasp and whimper into the kiss before breaking it, desperate for air. You gasp softly when you part, watching with hazy eyes as he pants as well, lips slick with spit and typically wide eyes heavy with lust.

You tug at his shirt, nodding before he has any time to say something that will kill the mood.

“Take it off.”

And he listens like a dog, pushing himself up and pulling his white T-shirt over his head, tossing it aside before wrapping his arms around your torso and pulling you flush against him. There are no thoughts in your head right now, only Sungchan, touching Sungchan, kissing Sungchan, fucking Sungchan––Holy shit, you were totally going to fuck Sungchan. That hits you harder than you thought it would. You’ve thought about it before. How could you not? He’s beautiful, kind, and built like a God. Of course, you thought about fucking Sungchan. It was nothing like this, however. Typically, you thought of him having your face pressed into the mattress, back arched, and fucking you from behind like he was getting paid. You would’ve never guessed you’d be on top, but it’s not like you can’t get into it for Sungchan. You’d do anything for Sungchan.

"Are you sure?" Sungchan whispers against the skin of your neck, his hands finding your hips again to steady you against him, his bare chest warm and firm. You're taken aback for a moment, not expecting the question. But then you realize that he’s always been considerate, even when he’s on the verge of losing control.

"Yeah," you say firmly, the word slipping out without thought and causing heat to flare in Sungchan's eyes.

Without hesitation, you reach for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head swiftly. The cool air hits your skin, making goosebumps spread across your chest and arms. Sungchan's eyes widen as he takes you in, his gaze making you feel exposed and powerful. You struggle to pull your jeans off, having to crawl off of him to kick them off in haste. You hate how desperate you look but can’t bring yourself to care. Sungchan rolls on his side when you crawl off of him, lingering towards you like a lost puppy. His eyes watch as more of your skin is revealed to him, letting out a groan when he sees the smooth skin of your thighs.

Before you have the chance to climb back on top of him, he leans in, kissing the side of your thigh with a moan. You let out a gasp in shock but watched him with parted lips, threading your hands through his hair again as he dragged his lips all over the expanse of your thigh, leaving a trail of glistening spit as he did. He grabs your ankle, pulling you towards him roughly, making you fall back onto the carpet with another gasp. You don’t argue for once; you are too invested in what Sungchan will do next, even if you care.

His lips pepper kisses across the inside of your thighs, nipping at the sensitive skin with deep breaths as he inched closer and closer to your core.

He licks his lips as he hooks a long finger in your underwear, pulling them to the side. A moan leaves his lips when he sees your pussy for the first time, looking down at it like he’s looking at a coveted piece of art. You watch him closely, ears turning pink as he lifts two fingers to his lips, licking the tips of them before bringing them down between your legs to rub circles into your clit. His gaze stays on your cunt, watching how the pretty pink flesh moves beneath his fingers, biting his bottom lip when he hears you let out a whine, seeing your thighs tremble at just the slightest touch. Finally, his dark gaze lifts to meet yours.

With his eyes trained on yours, he presses a long finger inside you. A sigh leaves your lips as your eyes flutter shut, gripping the carpet with one hand while the other dug into your side, biting your bottom lip as he pressed another finger inside. You moan this time, feeling your walls begin to stretch for him. You hear him groan quietly, making your eyes open. You’re immediately met with his gaze that never left your face. He looks like he’s in a trance, staring at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You can’t tell how it makes you feel, but you feel hot, like you’re boiling from the inside out. It aches, but it’s so intoxicating that you want more of it.

You whimper at how his fingers slickly slide out, then back in, watching him get lost in the sight of your reactions. You’re so wet for him. It’s almost embarrassing how wet you got so quickly. You swallow thickly as your chest rises and falls with each pant. His eyes stay on your face as his thumb presses against your clit, rubbing slow circles that make you shiver with a choked-out moan. His free hand cups your jaw, tilting your head back slightly, forcing your lips apart to look deeply into your eyes as he watches you crumble under him.

Feeling emboldened, Sungchan takes his fingers out of you slowly, letting out a long moan when they leave you empty. He lays a line of sweet pecks against your inner thighs, leaving tiny bites and nips on the soft flesh until he reaches the hem of his boxers. With a breathy "Fuck," he tugs them down enough to reveal his hard cock pressing against the fabric. You gulp as it springs from its confines, averting your eyes momentarily before snapping them back up to challenge his gaze. His thick length twitches with anticipation before he guides it towards you, slick with pre-cum leaking from the tip. Your heart stops for a beat before racing wildly in your chest again.

"Wrap your legs around me," Sungchan orders softly, not breaking eye contact even when you hesitate for a second before obeying. He grunts when he feels your folds pressing against his cock, pushing inside without a moment’s hesitation. He slides in so easily, groaning at how smooth the glide inside you is. He sounds as beautiful as he looks, making you moan as well. The way his cock splits your walls apart for him is delicious, to say the least, as a euphoria fills your veins as your walls spasm around him with another moan, this one airier than the one before.

“Fuck,” Sungchan curses, fingers digging into the carpet next to your head as he looks down at where your bodies were connected before back at your face. You two lock eyes again, making your heart hammer in your chest harder than before. Still, you meet his gaze with a quiet whimper, hands wrapping around his strong biceps as you bat your lashes at him.

“Feels good, Sungie?” You ask in a too-sweet voice. You rarely whip out for him unless you ask for a favor, like getting something off the top shelf or making him finish your short answer response questions because you don’t want to. Sungchan would do anything for you, and you’d do anything for Sungchan. He takes a deep breath at your tone, lips curling into a smirk before he bites his bottom lip, nodding.

Then, his hips roll into yours.

Sungchan's thick cock feels even better than you could have ever imagined, stretching you wide and fulfilling you completely. His hips roll into yours slowly, making you moan and whine beneath him with each gentle thrust. The way he fills you up is mind-numbing, his smirk turning into a grimace as he leans down to capture your lips in a rough kiss.

Your walls clamp down on him at the contact, purposely trying to get more friction between the two of you. Sungchan groans against your lips, slipping his hands under your back and lifting you up onto his lap effortlessly. You gasp into his mouth, feeling his hard chest pressed against yours. Your heart pounds in your chest as he starts to fuck you properly now, eyes closing at the sensation that washes over you. You swear you can feel his heartbeat against your chest, but you convince yourself you’re just dreaming it.

You feel every inch of him inside of you, making your walls tighten around him with every snap of his hips into yours. A tiny sob leaves your lips when he hits that spot inside you that has you seeing stars. You dig your nails into the flesh of his shoulders, jaw-dropping and eyes rolling back at how your body moves like a rag doll and at how sharply his hips snap up into you. He groans into your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin before sucking softly to soothe it with his tongue. You can't help but shudder in his lap; this feels so good that it hurts. His hands hold you in place, one on your waist and the other cradling the back of your head as he takes rough control of the kiss again, teeth scraping against soft skin with every thrust. He pants against your lips, moaning your name softly and how good you make him feel. It's all too much for you; all too real with Sungchan, yet so not real. You’re fucking your roommate on your living room floor––You’re fucking your best friend on your living room floor.

Your hands find their way into his hair again, holding onto him tightly as he continues to fuck into you like your his, his lips trailing hot kisses down your neck and over your collarbone. You mewl at the feeling, arching your back into his chest as he hits that sweet spot inside you once more. You could feel the warmth spreading through your veins, making you dizzy with need. The room spins around you as he thrusts harder, faster, deeper into your already aching pussy. His moans mix with yours, their tongues meeting in a messy kiss that speaks volumes about how much you both want this.

Your legs quiver as he takes control of the situation, fingers digging into your skin softly before trailing up to caress your breasts through the thin fabric of your bra. You let out a strangled cry when he pinches at one of your nipples roughly, making you moan into his mouth even more, looking down to watch him work with a breath through your teeth. Your hands' card through the hair on the back of his head, eyes shutting to focus solely on the pleasure coursing through your veins with every drag of Sungchan’s cock against your walls.

"Sun-Sungchan," you whimper. The sound of his name on your lips is like music to his ears. Your body is sweaty and flushed, a beautiful sight for him to feast his eyes upon. He growls lowly when he finally meets your gaze again, heat pooling in your lower belly at the raw desire he displays.

“You’re so fucking good, baby. ‘Should’ve fucked you soon, hm?” Sungchan groans, his voice creased with effort as he continues to pound into you. You can’t help but respond with a needy whimper, skin burning under his touch as you nod your head dumbly. You feel him everywhere, and it's overwhelming - the way he’s stretched you wide open, the way he feels pushing deep inside of you, the way his hands are holding you in place as if afraid that you'll slip away from underneath him.

Your heart beats furiously against your chest, matching rhythm with the throbbing ache between your legs. You're close, too close, but not quite there yet. Sungchan seems to sense your growing desperation, the flash of triumph in his eyes telling you he knows exactly what he's doing to you. He reaches down and begins rubbing slow circles on your clit again, thumb pressing against the sensitive nub just enough to make you cry out in pleasure.

“You gonna cum for me?” He whispers against your throat, teeth dipping into your soft flesh, causing a sharp gasp from your lips. You nod frantically in response, words failing you as white-hot pleasure courses through your veins. He laughs softly - a dark chuckle that sends shivers down your spine.

The way you melt against him is intoxicating. He grunts, unable to think straight as he feels his own orgasm building up. His hips move even faster, his cock sliding in and out of your welcoming heat with each thrust. He groans against your skin, panting heavily as he fucks you like it’s his last dying will, wet sounds filling the room that mixes with your pants and moans. You squeeze your eyes shut at the sounds you’re making, cheeks growing more read because of it. Sex is so embarrassing sometimes.

He pulls away from your neck just a little to look into your eyes, panting heavily as they roll back in pleasure. Sungchan's lips curl into a smirk at seeing how lost you get. Your walls tighten around his cock once again as you cum around him, making Sungchan's eyes roll back into his head and tilt his head back with a melodic groan that has you moaning as well. You feel him tremble beneath you as he finally cums inside of you, making you smirk softly as your hands run up and down his back.

You throw your head back and cry out his name, orgasm hitting you hard and fast like a freight train. He watches as you finally hit your peak, jaw-dropping at how gorgeous you look when you feel good. Your walls clamp down around him, and your muscles spasm in ecstasy; even through the haze of pleasure, you feel every drop of his cum spilling into you, the heat of it searing into your core. Your body convulses and shivers under the onslaught of pleasure, your voice breaking on Sungchan's name. 

Sungchan stays still for a moment longer, his cock still buried deep inside of you. His chest heaves against yours, ragged gasps filling the space between your sated bodies. He blinks slowly, his gaze holding yours captive as he pants out your name. You take his face into his hands with a deep breath, leaning in and kissing his lips without a second though. He moans into the kiss, holding your wrists gently as he does so.

You both stay like that for a while. Bodies joined together in the aftermath of your shared orgasm. The only sounds in the room are your gasping breaths and the rapid beat of your heart pounding in sync. Cautiously, Sungchan pulls out of you gently, making your pussy squeeze around nothing instinctively at the loss, a soft whimper leaving your lips.

He rolls off to one side, pulling you with him so that you're tucked against his side. His arm wraps around you and keeps you close to him, fingers dancing along your sweaty skin lightly. Neither of you speak for long moments, too wrapped up in trying to regain control of your breathing and coming down from your highs even to fathom thinking of words right now.

Eventually, though, Sungchan breaks the silence with a soft whisper, "You okay?"

Your lips twitch into a tired smile against his chest, pressing a small kiss there before nodding. "Yeah," you huff out after a moment, "That was…"

"Crazy," he finishes for you, making you shut your eyes with a laugh, nodding in agreement.

“Yeah…That was crazy,” You whisper, moving your head to rest on his chest to soak up more of his warmth. Your cheek squishes against his chest as you lay there, looking down at his spent cock resting against his thigh. It hits you that you’re both naked and just had sex on your living room floor. This calls for a conversation at the least but you can’t drag yourself to start it, completely spent from what just occurred.

So, instead, you close your eyes.

You’ll deal with it in the morning.

[eph3merall]

INTRODUCING . . . DEALER!CHRIS + INNOCENT!BFF!READER

— had to word vomit. 1 am right now, exhausted. posting this n then knocking out probably. this might not make sense but its okay

—

a sweet smile graced your lips, eyes flitting from the trinket in your palm to chris—his hand itching at his jawline dotted with a few days worth of stubble. you aren't sure when or how he bought this, considering you were eyeing it in a little corner store a week ago. alone.

it'd be stupid to complain though, the little cat keychain sitting in your outstretched palm seeming to be a piece of gold in your eyes. truthfully, you thought it was absolutely adorable at first—only to not buy it since you deemed in your head it would be a 'waste of money'.

youre quick to throw your arms around chris' shoulders up on your tiptoes. a giggle emanates from you and the brunette is quick to huff and shove you off in a second or two. a mumbled 'yeah, whatever. y're welcome i guess' sounds from the dealer's lips.

even as you stumble back, the smile on your face doesn't dim one bit. your eyes search chris' face, a bored expression plastered on it. his eyes are slightly red—and you immediately know why.

even if you haven't gone down the bad path chris has, you know the signs and how to tell when someone's coked out or high out of their minds. a thank you falls from your lips, hating the way chris doesn't bother to look you in the eyes. sure, you two were just friends.

sometimes though, it didn't feel like you guys were just friends. sometimes chris made you feel like the only girl in the world, showering you with gifts he knows youd like from the money he made dealing. sometimes, he'd be too high to do much other than lazy up on a couch with some pretty chick hanging off his shoulder. then you feel like his best friend. or maybe just a friend. sometimes you think he forgets you in those moments.

you haven't had sex yet. that didn't exactly stop chris from ranting to you about his own sex life. when you admitted you were a virgin, he had looked like he was about to say something before shutting his mouth quickly and just scoffing.

a shuffle sounds behind you from where youre clipping the trinket onto your bag, turning your head back to see chris slip into his room. you hear him say something about his brother matt and trips and whatever, the familiar squeak of his broken chair reaching your ears.

you turn back to eye the new addition to your bag, lips curling up into a smile. your heart beats rapidly in your chest, cheeks heating up gently just at the thought of chris buying you something like this. you always appreciated gifts, whether it was jewelry or cheap little trinkets that reminded the person of you.

a second later chris is out of his room with a pair of sneakers on this time, a hat in his hand as he fixes it onto his head. tufts of curly brown hair peek out from the brim as he jerks his chin gently towards the door. "gotta go out to do some shit with matt, you a'ight stayin' here? can give you a ride or somethin'.."

a shake of your head and a quick hug later you're hugging your best friend and thanking him just one more time. and chris doesn't know how to respond, so he just nods and huffs, calling you annoying. you weren't annoying, god, you could never be annoying.

you're out on a walk about ten minutes after chris has left, the autumn breeze biting and cold. leaves crunch under your shoes and the sky is a blanket of white, clouds thick and blocking out the sun completely. you feel a ding in thr pocket of your pants.

chris :) | 04:36 pm

'missin u. reminded me of u btw'

attached after the text was a picture of a stray cat, black fur and a chipped part of it's ear.

'making sum runs with matt. see u tn?'

you're almost too busy cooing at your phone screen to answer him, the picture of the kitty immediately capturing your attention.

but, you do type back a 'yeah!' to chris' text and he just reacts to it with a thumbs up emoji.

sometimes, it's confusing on what you two are. chris doesn't enjoy labels. you've had one, maybe two boyfriends. it's annoying sometimes, with how sweet he'd treat you and a second later he's ignoring you as if you two aren't friends.

your phone dings again, unlocking it to see a selfie of the two brothers—walking somewhere. you hate how good chris looks. and secretly, sometimes, he hates how good you look too.

—

©eph3merall 2024

[gildeddlily]

absolutely losing my mind because of these two!!!

so.

are these two actually toxic, or are they just kids who don't know how to communicate? easy, they're just kids! (this was fast)

reading the manga will not make you understand that (or im just stupid), and this is why I'm thanking the author on.my.knees for the spin-off!

so.

after watching the anime I fled to ao3, of course. read some works about Rin and Isagi, managed to not spoil myself anything.

then i read the U20 arc. after reading every ryusae I could find (writing one myself rn, doing god's work) I finished to read the manga cause, yk, I wanted to know what would happen with my babies and then boom! Reo and Nagi!!!

I didn't particularly care about them at first: Nagi was strong ofc, but kind of boring? he's not my favourite archetype, and while I loved Reo I hated their fight and wanted nothing to do with them. key word(s), at first.

then, then! I randomly read some fics about them cause they'd started to grow on me, and boom, tons of fics about their breakup/makeup. stunning works, ofc, but I started to see so many "Reo's fault" "Nagi's fault" "toxic relationship" that I kind of started to get uncomfortable (sometimes people throw around the word toxic when it's nothing like that), so what's to do? read the spin off ofc.

that I did, and now not only I love them both with all of my heart, but I'm Reo's number one fan (and kinnie)!

and I developed a deep hatred for those "toxic x" theories and takes. SO. let me blabber and rant.

they love each other so much!!

this is Nagi.

he thinks "damn, soccer/football is a pain, I hate sweating and running, but I don't hate Reo" even though most of the time he spends with Reo is spent playing soccer/football (I won't choose one english is so confusing- in italian it's literally called kick).

he doesn't feel forced to be Reo's friend, he likes it.

because Reo loves him, it's as simple as that.

he wants to be Nagi's friend "despite" Nagi's personality: this is something he currently says through the spin-off, which made me cry- Reo truly is the first person who ever accepted Nagi as someone who is lazy and unmotivated, who complains a lot, who doesn't put any effort in what he does, who doesn't offer much.

Or at least he thinks that he doesn't have anything special to offer, until Reo arrives.

he still has those terribly self-deprecating thoughts, but now he has something to offer, his talent.

(and after a period of happiness, their honeymoon phase one could call it, he starts to doubt the sincerity of Reo's care. from thinking "i'm not his slave, i'm his partner" he starts to doubt Reo's honesty: "maybe he only wanted to be my friend because of my talent, a talent he knows how to use"- since he still thinks that he's got nothing to offer! but we will talk about this later.)

this is Reo!

he thinks "I wanted to be the one who could make you love soccer/football, the one able to light up something in you" but he also thinks "seeing you like that, even if it wasn't me who'd done that, made me happy".

he's so jealous he's almost funny, and isn't that the most teenager thing ever?

who wouldn't be jealous after working so hard to be special to someone, just for someone else to take the place you're working so hard for?

it's terrible, but still, it doesn't stop Reo from being happy that Nagi found something exciting.

something that made Nagi as happy as the combo Nagi-soccer/football made Reo happy.

the thing is, Nagi thinks he's Reo's friend because of his talent, which maybe it's true. maybe, hadn't Nagi been a genius, they wouldn't have become friends, but his talent was the sparkle that made him become Reo's treasure.

Reo is someone who has everything, who gets everything he wants, or as he says everything except what he really wants.

for that, he has to work.

so, what he wants is to play soccer/football, and to play it with Nagi.

(in order to be Nagi's friend, he needs to work hard, because he needs to be honest and gain Nagi's trust- this is how friendship works: even when it seems flawless and easy, there's so much work behind it, and knowing it is important. most of the times we only realise it once we lost that bond- for example, Nagi. Reo already knew it, and this is why he tried so hard to not leave Nagi's side)

at one point, the two things became linked to one another, and his dream turns into "winning with Nagi, my partner". Because Nagi is talented, is special, and Reo saw his talent, and how Nagi was unable to do the same. He wants to show Nagi that soccer/football is fun, that his talent isn't a pain, that he is special, because Nagi doesn't know it, and for Reo a star that doesn't see his its own light? is just preposterous.

He cares for Nagi and loves everything about him, even all the "bad" things, and he doesn't think that Nagi has to change, and this is what, for me, makes their break-up way more serious and relatable for a lot of people.

it triggers a "I'll change to be better" "for me you never had to change" "I need to change for myself" dynamic.

2. changing and longing is way more fun when you're doing it together!!!

so they split up.

Nagi doesn't do it because he likes Isagi more, or because his style of play is more interesting, he does it because Isagi was stronger than Nagi and Reo: entering Blue Lock, Nagi had trust in Reo's ability to use his talent to win, he didn't even think about failing, and while Barou came close to making him feel like he could loose, Nagi overpowered him at the end- but then Isagi beats Nagi, and Reo with him.

Nagi understands that Reo's dream can't become reality if they aren't the strongest, and if being together doesn't work, maybe they should split up, part ways, become stronger and then join forces again, and win everything. win the world cup.

while his friendship with Isagi is sweet and I love them, for Nagi Isagi is like a cyclette.

he'll use the cyclette to get get fit and make his bf swoon over his legs, he won't stay with the cyclette once he doesn't need the training anymore. and even if he will, it will always be just the cyclette he uses to get fit "for" his bf.

(metaphor isn't metaphoring)

Reo doesn't know that.

he knows he's strong, but he knows that Isagi and Nagi are on a whole other level and he feels threatened. he fears that Nagi will choose Isagi instead of him, and he tries desperately to not loose Nagi.

Nagi is his dream. Slowly, day after day, Nagi became part of his dream, and now he's losing not only his best friend but the dream that made him free.

Reo says it himself- he knows that Nagi did the smartest thing by leaving, but he's young and scared and sees it as Nagi leaving him.

He feels abandoned, and he thinks that Nagi is abandoning his dream to go with the bigger fish, the apex predator, in order to become the best striker, by forgetting the promises they made at the start of Blue Lock, to stay together til the end.

Neither of them forgets the other.

Nagi leaves, and all he thinks about it "I need Reo to see this" "I can't wait to let him see how much I've improved", and he misses Reo, just as much as Reo misses him.

the only difference?

Reo is oblivious about Nagi's real feelings and thought process, and his thinking of Nagi turns into spiraling into depression and self-hatred.

so Nagi changes.

he starts to see the beauty in soccer/football, he finally sees what Reo had tried to make him see for months, and he's thrilled. he's having fun. he's grateful that Reo convinced him to not discard Blue Lock immediately. he's different.

different why? because Isagi beat him? because Blue Lock happened?

he changed not when Isagi beat them, but the moment he became Reo's friend, and found a reason to do something.

because Reo was the first person to ever tell him that his laziness, boredom, his oh so troublesome antics were alright, that he was what he was, and he was enough not only for Reo, but for the whole world.

Reo accepted him even when he was set on being static, made him want to change, and now that he's changing he feels worthy of being loved so much.

"you saw something in me back then, you forced to me work hard, and now thanks to you I ('m on my way to) realised my own worth, now I found something exciting"

he changes.

Reo sees him after what, a few days, and he's already improved so much.

and he thinks that he was Nagi's cage, his personal dead weight, that Nagi may have been his treasure but he wasn't Nagi's. that Nagi doesn't need him anymore. if Nagi doesn't need him, what will be of his dream?

(we could start a long-ass post ab mental health and recovering but I won't for my own sanity)

what's his worth then, since he got into Blue Lock just to stay with Nagi till the end- especially when he can't even be number two, with Isagi there- and Nagi won't be with him anymore?

he needs to change too.

3. destroying yourself in order to change (no fun)

Reo says that he isn't brave enough to destroy himself like the others do.

Isagi, Barou, Nagi, Chigiri, they all destroy themselves in order to become stronger and change, evolve, but Reo can't. he's scared, he's confused, the whole arc is just him looking like that. then what does he do?

he lets Nagi destroy him. "If I can't do it, Nagi will" don't you understand you're doing exactly what you say you're unable to do? the fact that you're not the one pulling the trigger doesn't mean that you're not killing yourself

he pushes Nagi until he snaps and tells Reo to fuck off, that he's a pain, that he's weak and someone Nagi doesn't want anything to do with, because that's what Reo thinks.

He thinks Nagi doesn't want to be with him anymore, he's feeling guilty for what he thought (later later), he's insecure- and instead of being reasonable, he founds a way to confirm his "irrational" fears.

"I'm not being insecure since Nagi confirmed it"

he sabotages himself. that's the nail in the coffin.

instead of destroying himself with football/soccer, by learning from a lost match, he destroys himself with life, by putting on the line his relationship with the person he (not exaggerating) loves most in the world.

he's unable to distinguish life from soccer/football (and this will be the aspect that makes him so different from most of the other characters), because since meeting Nagi they've become one thing. soccer/football is his life, Nagi is his life, because they're his only chance at being happy.

(Nagi is able to distinguish between the court and Reo: this way, Reo is just as special as Isagi is, since Isagi may have made him see the fun in soccer/football, but Reo made him get angry. Nagi who thinks that his strong quality is the fact he never gets angry, that he's a pacifist. Isagi is his soccer/football revolution, Reo is his life revolution.

Reo can't. they all insult each other on the field, but they're all friends afterwards. not Reo. not yet)

now he's lost Nagi, and his dream, and he has to pick himself up from the ground.

this is how Reo changes.

4. miscommunication is a beast

As I said before, Nagi starts to think that Reo only cared about him because of his talent. he's angry at Reo. he doesn't understand why Reo said those things, why he was so stupid, why he didn't understand Nagi.

he says "I'm not his toy" and he isn't, but really, try to get into his shoes.

he thinks his partner, his best friend, doesn't believe in them as a duo anymore, doesn't want to believe in them like he used to now that Nagi has changed, now that he's more "independent" from Reo.

"what, now that I know how to fight alone, he doesn't want me anymore?" that would be anyone's first thought.

and he doubts Reo's trust in their dream.

when did Reo start to have so little faith in them, in Nagi? when did he give up on them? he thinks that, after spending weeks trying to improve just to make Reo's dream true.

and he's angry, but he still hopes to play with Reo again.

he still want to, because him and Reo are partners and Nagi still believes in their dream. because he remembers Reo's passion, and he believes in him.

+) 5. being relatable as fuck

(what kid with absent/abusive parents never thought back on their action and went anxiously all "Am I just like them?")

Reo begs Nagi to stop being so strong, stop improving so quickly, stop running towards a place Reo can't reach yet, and isn't this a human thing to do? He desperately wants to be with Nagi, and thinks that he'd rather stop him from improving rather than lose him. He thinks "Please, give up on your dream, your ego"- and isn't that familiar?

he just thought the same thing his father, a man he hates and despises and who doesn't believe in Reo, told him. and he said that to Nagi. Nagi who gave him a ticket to the top by being at his side, who let him see hope.

he panics. am I just like him? Am I cruel enough to wish for someone to give up on their dreams, just to get something out of their failure?

he's different from his father, because he's seventeen, he's scared to lose his best friend, and we can be irrational in situations like this one. does he know it? no, the same way he doesn't understand that Nagi didn't left because of him.

so yes, he's in the worst head-space ever.

isn't he relatable? this is what that made reo my favourite character in a second, probably. he's so human and he makes so many mistakes and he's so stupid sometimes, but I can see myself in him very clearly.

and now.

in what way is their relationship not balanced? their love and care not mutual? in what way one used or manipulated the other?

I think they're flawed, and they made mistakes, and they hurt each other, but I also think that we throw in the word "toxic" the moment a relationship isn't perfect.

they're friends and they're teens, they will make mistakes and they will hurt each other, and their friendship (and they were roommates) won't be perfect- this doesn't make it less genuine or beautiful.

don't get me started on what happens in the manga (really don't do it) (all of this was just nagi's spin off!!!)

[suguru-getos]

soft yandere satoru hcs:

a/n: hey, you guys should know i ship myself with him so there's no way i'd tolerate insane yandere satoru without ki!ling myself :P soooo- here's me making him a soft yan ^^

warnings: yandere behavior, mentions of arranged marriage troupe, stalkingtroupe, angry!sato ofc but he is still normal about it. mentions of fluff because it's satoru duh <33 also, this is one of the softest yandere hcs i've ever written *giggles*

yandere!satoru who saw you the first time in a jujutsu clan party hosted by your parents and how insignificant you truly were. to yourself, you had the best parents ever, they didn't push you into becoming a sorcerer, but to the kamo, zenin, and gojo clan members it was pure bullshit. wastage of proper sorcerer blood.

until yandere satoru met you for the first time and you hung out, the way he conversed was so different from someone who should be the strongest, someone who wields the highest powers in the whole world. someone who's birth shook the shackles of this world alone. he was kind, he sat next to you, non-judgemental even so he was weirdly wearing that damned blindfold.

he talked to you about your life, and about his own. pointing out the subtle and the not so subtle differences between the both of you. asking if you had a boyfriend. it was so subtle how could you think he had any other intention but to be your friend? naive and stupid.

things escalated real quickly when your mother told you that you were supposed to marry satoru gojo, oh my god- the clan head of the gojo clan, the ever so spoiled, esteemed entitled brat. you really couldn't say anything about this, but to hold your guns you decided to contact him. "you knew that this was happening?" you mumbled, watching him stir the coffee in front of you lazily. "of course, gosh you are so lucky little one!" he snickered, though the way he looks at you, it's hard to process what he's truly feeling inside. you are unaware of his stalking, how he knows your colleagues, how they are what they do, what they eat, how they breathe, to whom you are closer to, who likes you- what time do you get up, eat, what snack do you like, ghana roasted coffees over normal ones. though he would not admit to it.

there are a few times he has watched you sleep like a creep, just sitting next to you, just feeling the innate feeling of sharing the same bed as you. how cute you are, he often mumbles to himself. "i could crush you without even trying" as a musing criteria for how naive you are, how cute you are and how absolutely adorable you are. creepy-

to pretend that he is more than willing to let you take things your own way, he lets you plan dates. cute, adorable dates. one of the days you would be doing pottery with him, the other time it's an aquarium date where satoru doesn't know why you're so mesmerised when the real awe is you, the other time it was a planeterium and that's when satoru shows you his abilities for the first time, holding you closer to him like the princess you are and walking on sky, as if it's nothing, amid the full moon night. the other time it's you and him making tiaras in a garden, sometimes he would just randomly pull you closer, kissing your cheek while languishing in a movie together. so cute, so astonishingly cute! maybe marrying him is not a bad idea???

things show you their true form when you were on a date in a high-end restaurant, roof-top and fully booked. he's always been so cute with you, you had opened up and been comfortable enough. until a waiter decided to hit on you, before long- you found him choking on his own blood, despicable sight of him oozing out blood from his eyes, coughing and dying in front of you. "wh- what was that?" when you glance at satoru, he is emphasising the same lazy grin, smirking. "what. go on? smile back!" he muses, and when you're a teary-eyed mess, he presents himself with a carefully painted visage of guilt. "oh no no- baby i'm so sorry- i lost it, you make me lose it! i love you so much please no!"

would not let you have personal space after, forcing your parents to hasten the whole marriage thingy, he thinks you would leave him and that has him acting out of character. though he now knows fear is a powerful tool, even though he does not want to use it on his darling. sometimes he can't help it, especially when you act so fucking adamant and so fucking stubborn!!

"listen, princess, here's what's going to happen. daddy's going to be really cooperative if you come here and give him a hug, daddy does not want to be a meanie to his little girl. you know that right?" by being a 'meanie' he just means getting angry, manhandling you against the wall, seething in rage and bubbling hot with the insecurity of your behavior being the slightest of different.

the thing is satoru really, really loves you. the prospect of being a yandere is more 'dere' in him. however when the yandere shows? that's when you should truly fear the capabilities of this man. satoru hates this but he can sometimes use your triggers against you. don't like being tied up, maybe an empty threat would get you in line, after all, you refuse to listen when he wants to love you!

he's going to make sure your engagement ring has a location curse imbued into it, he wants to know 24x7 where his baby is. one time you lied to him that you are at work when you were actually in a colleague's party, you were greeted by the whole party avenue being destroyed to shreds, people bruised and only you knew it was your now husband, because he texted. 'infinity protects you princess, not others. next time think twice about lying to daddy.'

his behavior can get hot and cold instantly, one moment he is the most adorable man-child, loving you, playing with you... until he's ticked off and the real, no-nonsense monster comes out to meet you. a scathing frown with glowy eyes as he reminds you that you belong to the 'strongest'.

there are times he does use sex as a weapon, a weapon to make you give in. he is just so good at it, he is going to spoil you senseless, kissing every square inch of your body, worshipping you, crying with you when he mumbles apologies for being angry and mean at you, for scaring you, you don't deserve it, such a pretty baby, oh you take him so well. he was made for you, you are the strongest because you have him wrapped around your pinkie... only to show you the rage and insecurity and all of it when you come home late.

the only positivity you have, is he would rather kill himself than hurt you. that brings you peace, that brings a sense of stability and sensibility into you to hang onto the rope of your relationship a bit longer, clutching onto the fleeting hope of him changing...

[bayjaruchel]

Whammy Kiss Me (Whammy Hug)

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Pairing: Clapton Davis/AFAB Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Maybe Seven Minutes in Heaven isn't a pointless party game, after all. (3.9k | originally posted on ao3 | Masterlist )

－－－

It's not until the closet door shuts that you realize the gravity of your current situation. 

You've been at the party for at least a couple of hours; you've grown used to the general noise. The slight haziness of the air. You're not quite hammered yet, but you've got one or two drinks in your system. Just enough that you can enjoy the feeling without worrying about the hangover tomorrow. Judging by the way that a couple of people had been giggling and swaying, not everyone who was sitting around the circle shared your sense of self-conservation. 

Although it hadn't been the brightest outside— it was dim, but also somewhat illuminated at the same time with the neon lighting— the single lightbulb hanging above your heads doesn't do much against the darkness. 

Yeah. Heads, plural. 

Luckily, there's only one person in the cramped space besides yourself. 

Unluckily, that person is one Clapton Davis. 

It's not that you don't like him. Actually, you feel the exact opposite towards him, but that's not the point. It's just that— you know, you could spend seven minutes just sitting in silence, doing absolutely nothing— but you're suddenly hyper-aware of the way your knees are brushing. The way there's something in the air. Maybe you're just imagining it, but there's something … restless. Something like—  

Your thoughts are abruptly interrupted when he speaks. 

"So," he says, casually. As if you're not within necking distance in a cramped space. "You enjoying the party?" There's that same easy grin on his face. He's completely at ease, apparently. You're not sure if that's because of his ever-present (and sometimes misguided) confidence, or because he's used to stupid little party games like this. It's probably a combination of both. 

"Yeah." You find yourself replying, almost on autopilot. "The punch isn't as bad as I thought it would be." 

Clapton honest-to-god giggles at that. "It's still pretty shitty, though."

"I wouldn't say shitty."  

"Awful, then." He raises his eyebrows. "Let's just say that it's an … acquired taste." 

You can't help but smile. "Fair." He's right— you're pretty sure that the only people who actually enjoy it are the people who regularly attend these parties. Said people usually just come to get drunk, anyway, and the punch works wonders. Magically malicious.  

"It's either that or cheap beer," he muses. "Or wine busted from mommy and daddy's fridge in the basement." 

"Expensive wine?" 

"Could be." Clapton shrugs, pulling his knees closer to his chest. You try in vain not to focus on his arms as he wraps them around his legs. Was it really necessary to wear the tank top? "Maybe," he says. "But I doubt that anyone here would wanna drink it." 

You unconsciously mirror his posture. "Why's that?" 

He snorts. "Too classy." 

It sort of makes sense. You can't really see Josh from Calculus sipping a glass of pinot noir, much less enjoying it. Maybe one has to start from the bottom of the hypothetical alcohol pyramid and work their way up. The bottom, meaning Bud Light. Or Coors Light. All of the Lights. 

"Cheap beer it is, then." 

Clapton's grin is back. 

"Unfortunately." 

You're starting to relax, even if you can still feel your heart pounding whenever his eyes meet yours. Even if your eyes are lingering. When he reaches up to idly run his fingers through his hair, you can't stop yourself from wondering: is it as soft as it looks? 

"How much time d'you think we have left?" He asks, just as you're attempting to reel yourself back in. 

"Uh," you start. Nice. "I don't know— maybe, like, four minutes or so?" Spending a couple of minutes talking about drinks wasn't exactly the plan, but you're not exactly complaining. It's still better than awkward silence. You wonder— again— about how many times he's done this before. How long does it usually take before people give in? 

The muffled music from outside has been reduced to just the thumping of the bass, and the rhythm matches your pulse. 

"Four minutes," he echoes. 

You can't hold his gaze, glancing down at your knees instead. 

"Yeah." 

You can tell when Clapton adjusts himself where he's sitting, but you have a feeling that he hasn't looked away. Not yet. 

"What do you wanna do now?" He asks, innocently. "Four minutes is a long time." 

When you look up, you're proven right. The faint glow of the light doesn't hide anything. It just makes everything feel vaguely dreamlike. And, okay. This is pretty cliche. But you've watched too many movies, seen too many shows—  you know what that look is. That look doesn't mean that he wants to play rock-paper-scissors for the remainder of your time left. 

"I don't know," you manage. "What do you want to do?" 

His eyes dip briefly before flicking back up. 

"I was asking you," he teases softly. "We've already had a pointless conversation." He mimes checking a box midair with his pointer finger. "Check. And we've already sat in silence for a couple of seconds." He repeats the motion on another imaginary box. "Check." 

"Oh, ouch. Talking about alcohol is pointless?" You're a little amused. "So, what's left on the list?" 

Clapton raises his eyebrows again. 

There's a shift in the air. 

"C'mon, don't tell me that you actually don't know." His tone's dropped to little more than a whisper, but due to your closeness, you can hear him loud and clear. Your brief bit of confidence wanes— your face warms, and you pause. Sure, you're well aware of what he's implying— but you're not sure if he's just joking around or not. When has Clapton Davis ever been serious, besides that one time he competed in a skateboarding competition in the sixth grade?  

The lighthearted lilt in his voice is almost gone, though. 

"I know what you're trying to say," you finally reply, matching his volume. And you do want to kiss him. You really, really do. 

"Okay," he murmurs in return. "Well, that's good." He dares to smile, though you know you're weak to it. 

"I don't have to ask you out loud, right?" 

He definitely already knows the answer to that question. 

"Yeah, you don't." 

You've tuned out the outside world, muffled as it already was. The music and noise fade to a quiet hum. You can hear the quiet buzz of the lightbulb— the barely audible clattering as your back moves against the uncomfortable storage shelves— the sound of his sneakers scuffing against the hardwood floor— 

"But if I did ask," he says, uncharacteristically hesitant, "you'd say yes?"  

Your heartbeat thrums in your throat. 

The seconds tick by— you know you can't wait. It's been at least a minute and a half— 

"Just do it," you breathe.   

And he does. 

The first thing you register is how soft his lips are. Then, his hands— cupping your face— your own hands reaching up to tangle in his hair, tugging him closer. His hair is as soft as it looks. There's no slow build-up because there's no time for that. All you can think about is him— the little sounds he lets out as you kiss, the way he can't wait when you part, his breath briefly coming in soft pants before he leans in to capture your lips again. He tastes vaguely like beer, and maybe that would have bothered you if it were any other guy— but with him, you don't really care at all. His nose presses a little awkwardly against yours a couple of times, but he makes up for it with how eager he is. You know he's not a bad kisser; he's just impatient. 

You lose yourself for a little while. It feels like forever. You wrap your arms around his neck, reluctantly dropping your grip on his hair. His hands start to stray, one anchoring itself behind your neck and the other traveling lower. And lower— 

There's a loud series of knocks at the door. 

Clapton's slower to react, and you're the one to pull back first. When you do, he leans forward to chase your lips—  but stops upon noticing your expression. In direct comparison to you, he just looks giddy. Almost dazed. His hair's a little disheveled from earlier, and he hasn't let go of you yet. 

"Huh," he says, before the door is yanked open. 

You're immediately greeted by exactly what you had expected. Whistles. Catcalls. General hooting. Some "called it!"s and "you owe me five bucks, man!"s. 

Clapton just grins, reveling in it all. Because of course he would. But, before you can get too embarrassed, he's getting to his feet, pulling you along with him as you both exit the closet— exiting what had previously been your own little world. Instead of just rejoining the circle, like part of you expects him to do, he pauses to lean over to you and whisper: 

"Wanna go upstairs?" 

You blink at him. He's still smiling— he almost looks star-struck. You feel that familiar swoop in your stomach. Maybe it's a stupid decision that you'll regret later, but—

"Okay," you agree. 

The whistling doesn't stop as he grabs your wrist, making a beeline for the stairs. The son of a bitch takes them two at a time, and you do your best to keep up. Upstairs, it's quieter than it is on the ground floor, since there are fewer people up here; still, though, you can hear the music echoing through the hallway. A girl's laughter rings out, followed by a string of giggles. 

It's not very hard to find an empty bedroom. You gingerly shut the door behind you, taking a moment to look around. There are one or two posters here and there, and a few photos placed on the dresser. Other than that, it's kind of bare-bones. A guest room, maybe? You sure hope so. While you're distracted, Clapton leisurely sits down on the bed, bouncing a couple of times. 

"Cozy," he remarks, and you turn to look at him. 

"You think?" 

He grins. "Sure do." 

You sit next to him on the mattress. It's not bad. For a moment, he just looks at you. Taking you in. 

But he doesn't hesitate much longer, and leans in. Automatically, you angle your head just so. Unlike before, he kisses you in small pecks at first. One of his hands finds your cheek. However, as the minutes draw by, your kisses grow longer. More languid. He hums into your mouth, and you move closer. Closer, until your thighs are brushing his, and you're nearly off-balance, but it's still not close enough. 

He draws back. This close to him, you can pick out his freckles. His eyelashes are long, framing half-lidded eyes. His lips are still parted. 

"Should I lay back?" He asks, hushed. "Or do you wanna—" 

"Go ahead," you interrupt.  

Clapton flops backward onto the pillows, wiggling around to make himself more comfortable. When you think he's got himself in a good position, you crawl over him. The way he looks up at you— it makes you a little lightheaded, but in the best way possible. His hands find your waist. You can do little but settle against him, pressing your lips to his for the nth time. 

Enthusiastically, he responds, and it's not long before your kisses grow messier. Needier. His hands wander, moving down to rest on your hips, and then lower— you let out a gasp when he squeezes your ass, and he uses the opportunity to pull you harder against him. You're no stranger to how strong his arms are, but, yeah, being on top of him like this is an entirely new experience. He's soft and firm in equal measures, his chest sturdy where it's pressed against yours. His hands are warm when he moves them under your shirt, up your back, making you shiver.  

Bracing your hands on his torso, you sit up. For a second, he's confused, but that quickly fades away as you reach down to pull up your shirt. 

"Holy shit," he murmurs. He scrambles to discard his tank top too, yanking it over his head. You were right— he's toned, but there's still a fair bit of softness there. Of course his chest doesn't have any hair, but at least he kept the trail. You lay back on top of him, the feeling of his skin against yours like this causing you to shudder again. Clapton's hands start to explore once more— square palms, strong fingers. It must be a little bit of an uncomfortable stretch for him, but his thumbs find your nipples, tracing soft circles. 

You briefly enjoy the sensation. Then, your breath stutters when he gently urges you forward and then leans up so he can take them into his mouth. It must be self-indulgent for him, too, because he spends more time than necessary— sucking, flicking his tongue— but it's not like you're complaining.  

When he finally stops, he presses a kiss to the middle of your chest before laying back on the pillows. You move back down, and can't resist the urge to kiss him in return. His jaw— his cheek, which makes him smile. He's already started hooking his fingers in your waistband, and your mild surprise must show on your face, because he abruptly stops. 

"Sorry," he grimaces, "am I going too fast? I - Is that too much?" 

Hastily, you shake your head. "Oh, no. Not at all. It's fine. Just— it just caught me off-guard."  

"Okay." The worry vanishes in an instant. "Okay, I'm gonna." 

You let him slide down your bottoms, and then take them off the rest of the way yourself. His shorts quickly join the rest of the clothing on the floor. Now, you're more or less sitting in his lap— he props himself up on the headboard, his breath heavy as you shift on top of him. With only a few layers between you, you're aware of the shape of him through his boxers.  

You grind your hips with purpose, and he swears under his breath. When you do it again, he muffles himself by kissing you. The friction— you know it's not going to be enough— makes you more desperate, and it must be having the same effect on him, judging by the way he's slightly squirming underneath you. He's not quite thrusting up against you, but it's obvious that if he were in a better position, he would be. When your cunt brushes against him, catching at that angle, he moans openly into your mouth. You draw back only for air. If you could, you'd keep kissing him forever. 

"You gonna let me— mmh — fuck you?" He pants, "ohmygod, 'cause if you don't, you— you are one sick bastard—"  

You smile, although you want him just as badly as he wants you. You're doing a slightly better job at keeping yourself composed, after all. "I don't know," you murmur, "isn't this nice?" 

Clapton bites his lip when you grind down harder this time. "I — well," his hands scramble on your waist, your hips, "it is pretty nice, but, like — I just wanna take the logical— shitfuck — next step, right?" He's looking up at you with wide eyes, "and you are gonna let me, right?" 

"Right," you repeat, your breath catching when you roll your hips at just the right angle, "I am gonna let you, don't worry." 

He's flushed a pretty pink, pupils blown wide, obscuring hazel eyes; you drink him in. "Thought so," he grins. Before you can ask, he's already answering. "And, uh. There's a condom in the pocket of my shorts, if you're worried about that." 

You're in mild disbelief, abruptly halting your movements. 

"In your—?" 

Clapton looks a little bashful, though he's still grinning. "Could you just get it?"  

You're already awkwardly dismounting his lap. "Sure, sure." True to his word, there's a condom in the left pocket of his shorts, and you fish it out without a problem. You glance back at him for a moment, and he doesn't even try and pretend that he wasn't staring. Oh, well. A little clumsily, you get back onto the bed, and move to straddle him again— but he gently stops you. 

"Hey," he says, "can we switch places?" 

You don't need much time to consider it. "Alright." 

Now, he's hovering between your legs, and you're the one lying back. His gaze lingers, but he can't wait for much longer. You lift your hips, and he slides your last remaining piece of fabric off. 

"Fuck," he breathes, just before he gets to work. With the pad of one of his fingers, he collects the wetness that had been gathering, then smoothly slides the digit into your cunt. Swiftly, he adds another, the sensation odd at first, but you know you'll quickly get used to it. When he begins to lightly trace your clit, it only makes it easier for you to loosen up— both figuratively and literally. And he's still adding another. Maybe three fingers aren't strictly necessary, but he crooks them, finding the spot that makes an almost embarrassing noise tumble from your lips. 

You spread your thighs wider. You could definitely cum like this if you let him continue for a while. Glancing up at his face— oh, he definitely would if you wanted him to. He's torn between looking at how his fingers disappear into you and your face. How you're reacting to his touch. It's a little flattering. But as much as part of you wants to see what he's willing to do — 

"I'm — " You feel yourself tense, and you barely stifle an involuntary moan when he thumbs your nub again. "I'm ready. You can —" 

He doesn't even wait until you finish the sentence. He's already pulling out his fingers, tugging off his boxers. Your eyes are immediately drawn downward. Again, you're not surprised that he's shaved. Length-wise, he's probably around average, but girth-wise he's nice and thick. There's a bead of precum at the tip— if he wasn't already tearing open the condom with his teeth in a move that he's probably practiced before, you would've offered to blow him or something. Maybe some other time. 

Your idle thoughts dissipate when he lines himself up and, with an amount of care that nearly belies his previous neediness, presses in. You both moan in unison— he sounds infinitely more strained. He takes a moment to catch his breath, but— 

He starts moving. Little thrusts, at first. Then, pulling out more, pushing back in. His mouth falls open, and you can't resist throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him down. He groans, and you take it in, taking it with his increasing pace. It's good— his thumb finds your sensitive apex again, and that makes you jolt, but you know he's trying to give you a smooth progression between slow and fast. That's not what you want, though. Especially not now. Inches from his lips, you mutter: 

"Don't hold back." 

And that's all it takes. You can vaguely hear the bed creaking when he snaps his hips up to meet yours, roughly fucking into you with almost reckless abandon. Your kisses are sloppy, uncoordinated. But you wouldn't prefer it any other way. You know he probably wouldn't be making those noises if he didn't know they were muffled against you. Some are high-pitched— ragged gasps, moans, and at least one whimper. You also know you don't sound much different. He can't reach down to rub your throbbing clit anymore, due to how he's positioned, but the way that he's angled is more than satisfying in that regard. 

You lose track of time, only aware of his hips colliding against yours— his lips, his hands — the way he's starting to babble. "Fuck, you look so pretty like this," he confesses in a rush, "god, your eyes. I could just — I could just look at you like this forever. If you could see yourself — nnh — you would know." A sharp intake of breath, a few kisses, and then, "Ohfuck. Shit. You're gonna ruin this forever for me. I can't — " 

His rhythm is starting to falter. You can feel the heat pooling low in your gut, the tension that comes before the inevitable release. You tighten around him. His hands braced near your shoulders tremble, and you can see his biceps flexing with the effort of holding himself up like this. 

"Please," Clapton chokes out, and he doesn't specify as to what he wants, but you have a pretty good idea. "I'm gonna— " 

"Do it," you manage, despite your own climbing pitch, "c'mon, give it to me—"    

"Fuck— "  You feel him pulse. For a split second, you wonder how it would feel if he didn't have on the condom—  but your thoughts are quickly overtaken, as you're not too far behind. You twitch, spasming around his cock as your mouth falls open. The tension peaks, the heat spikes— 

He fucks you, gently, as you float back down, riding out your orgasm. Your eyelids flutter shut, and your breath slows, but your pulse is still a fast-paced staccato. 

He gingerly lays on top of you, catching his breath. It's hot against your throat. The world ceases spinning, and you let out a long sigh. 

He mimics it, and you glance down at him. 

You're reluctant to say it, but seriously, this is someone else's house. Guest room or not. 

"We should get cleaned up or something." 

He blinks once, lazily. Seemingly, he's content to lay on your chest. Of course, he's the type to get sleepy after sex. But at least he makes an effort to respond. "Ugh," he says. And then: "Jus' gimme a minute or something." 

You give him a look, and he surrenders. "Okay, fine." 

He slips out with a wet noise, and you only miss the fullness for a moment. Getting off the mattress, he throws out the condom, then accepts the wad of tissues you hand him. It's not the best, but it'll have to do for now. You manage to get most of the evidence of your arousal off before pulling back on your clothes. There's a mirror, thankfully, so you go to try and make yourself look less … fucked. Not that it would really matter. There are definitely people in worse states. 

Clapton stands next to you, but doesn't even try to fix his hair. On him, it looks fashionably disheveled, anyway. 

It's silent, before he interjects: 

"Is this … gonna be just a one-time thing?" 

The strange apprehensiveness is back, and you chance a glance at him. He's not meeting your eyes, but you're sure he's looking at you in the mirror's reflection. 

"I don't know," is all you can think to say, "do you want it to be?" A beat. "We could totally go back to being just sort of friends, if that's what you want." 

Clapton visibly swallows. "I … " 

You wait, patiently. He takes another few seconds. 

"I liked that," he mutters, "a lot. And I— I meant all that stuff. About you." 

He's still not meeting your eyes. It makes you pause. 

"I liked it too," you reply, softly.

The look he gives you next says it all. You know he's not big on old-school romance. He's not big on flowery words— his English grades can certainly attest to that. He's more of an action-oriented guy. Even if you don't get a verbal confession just yet— and you know you will, just not now— you suddenly understand what he's trying to convey. So, you pull yourself together and throw caution to the wind. 

"You wanna get out of here?" 

He beams. 

[justporo]

You might (probably not) have seen a post from me today saying I was feeling empty and exhausted. I deleted that because I figured nobody would wanna see me cry on main all the time, so yeah... I feel better now though, don't worry.

Still I had very self-indulgent thoughts today, that I will share because three cheers for turning bad energy into positive stuff:

Headcanons for Astarion comforting his partner

Oh gods, you're almost already crying: your lips are already wobbling and your eyes are dangerously wet. What's a vampire gonna do about it?

Astarion is really lost about what to do, but he knows for sure: he really doesn't want you to cry or feel sad

"What's wrong, love? Did I do something wrong?"

He's definitely worrying and overthinking about if he's the reason behind your tears

The rock dropping from his undead heart when you eagerly shake your head though

So he awkwardly drags you into a hug and strokes your back while you just let tears flow

He holds you as long as you need to, just being there and willing that you'll feel better soon

"Do you want to talk about it, my heart? Maybe putting it into words will help you send it away."

Astarion will get better about this the more he learns about his partner and he's eager to be prepared the next time this happens: for example, learning what kind of hot beverage you love, to prepare it (specially with something fancy to make it even better and he calls it "à l'Astarion" with a wink and it makes you giggle with it already)

Astarion will absolutely try and make you feel better by cracking absolutely stupid jokes: "You know, I really didn't think water elves did exist. But you're the living proof aren't you, my sweet sad darling?" (The jokes are terrible... but that's why they cracked you up so much)

He'll also really listen to what you tell him helps and he'll try his best to make you happy again as soon as possible

Sometimes that entails just letting it all go while he simply holds you, humming a lullaby and swaying you in his arms

He nuzzles his face in your hair, the top of your head

Also lots of loving kisses of course

Sometimes he just talks and talks until you peacefully drift into dreams in his arms and he'll smile at you, seeing how your face has become relaxed again and wrap you in a blanket on the sofa or carry you to bed carefully

And after a good cathartic cry: "Feel better now, love? Then let me run you a bath - and join you if you want..."

Then sometime he'll have it figured out and just needs a bit of input to figure out what will help: "No no, my sweet, you will not just sit here and spiral! Do you want to go for a walk?" You shake your head. "Smash some old mugs and curse all the Gods?" More head-shaking. "Want me to grab ink and paper and write down an action plan with you?" Still head shaking. "Alright, darling, you're making this a hard nut to crack. How about I make you some fresh tea, wrap you in some blanket and read you a Drizzt story?" You eagerly nod your head and wrap your arms around the suddenly flustered vampire, also maybe rubbing your snotty nose on his shirt a little. Entirely on accident of course. "Ugh, and you're also getting some tissues, you nasty little gremlin."

[llatimeria]

I feel so resolved right now bc I've been getting a little frustrated with the Instagram reels I've been seeing that's mostly het women complaining about how their husbands don't share the mental load of housework - which is absolutely justified, ofc. everyone needs to partake in taking care of the home as close to equally as is reasonable.

the thing is this mostly takes the form of people making fun of how their husbands say things like "Yeah sure I'll share the load :) Just make me a list!:) just tell me what to do! :)" when that's kind of defeating the purpose -- if your partner's making lists of chores for you, you're still basically offloading a ton of mental effort onto them, which doesn't actually help the problem.

however I know from experience that I am that husband lol. and I'm sure a lot of these men are just kind of inconsiderate, but from my perspective as a disabled neurodivergent person, I reflexively try to offload things like Making Lists or Asking To Be Told What To Do onto my (overstressed, often panicking) partner because I'm scared that if I make decisions about what I need to do, I'll focus on something my partner didn't even have on their radar and waste all my energy "fixing" something which they didn't consider broken, leaving me with nothing to help solve the problems they actually care about.

I'm not trying to be a dick or deliberately being lazy, I just need to know what's bothering them the most so I can start there instead of starting on a random side quest that doesn't matter to either of us. considering how many of these people I've run into are in nd4nd relationships, I'm pretty sure I can't be the only "inconsiderate husband" out there who's having this feeling, and it's a little frustrating to see it being completely attributed to a moral failing and not, like, a possible symptom of their partner's own mental health issues. (like we definitely can't pretend like misogyny never plays a part in the Just Make Me A List type of behavior, but I know relatively certainly that is not where it's originating from in my own personal relationship, and I'm not that unique)

just when I was about to just make a kind of grumpy post about this problem and offer absolutely no solutions, I fuckin run into a reel where someone actually tells people how to bridge the gap between offloading mental effort and actually knowing what your partner wants you to do- literally just. offer a couple of observations to them instead of hoping they'll do everything for you. ie - instead of "just tell me what to do!!", say "I see the dishes have to be done and the trash has to be taken out, so I was gonna do the dishes then take out the trash, unless there was something else that needs my focus first". this tells your partner that you are taking on some of the mental burden, but still offers them the opportunity to point you in the right direction if you're WAY off.

it just makes so much fucking sense and I never would've thought of doing that on my own. genuinely an extremely useful video to just algorithmically be provided to me. it's actionable advice instead of just telling people "share the loaaaddd" without providing the scaffolding someone needs to do that when theyre unused to it (whether that be due to neurodivergency or growing up as a guy in a misogynistic society).

and its just like. God damn it. this is bullshit. I can't believe the stupid camera app is helping me in real ways. maybe the mental health gurus and internet therapists have a goddamn point sometimes. fucking hell

[derangedanomaly]

sorry for this request, but I love your writing style and all the info you put in♡♡ Also want you to take a break if you get overwhelmed but here's my request.

Can you do Bad sanses + Epic sans x Death god reader? (Basically the reader but they're a god of death to help the balance with Reaper sans since Reader usually offers to help him)

It's absolutely fine, I feel so touched about the compliment..I'm happy that y'all like my work! Hope you enjoy this one, dear requester! ;)

SANS AUS X READER THAT'S THE GOD OF DEATH

(Nightmare, Dust, Killer, Horror, Cross, Error, Epic, Reaper)

Nightmare:

He's very confused at the start to be honest. There's already a reaper, why is there another one?? Was his question, which he (at the end), finally understood.

Holds respect towards you. I mean, you have the responsibility of every dead person, and you never failed. Respect.

Wants to know more about the whole concept of death, but is too busy to focus on it 😭

Is rather surprised that you don't have the 'touch of death' like Reaper, but instead work...kinda like Hades.

Is very jealous every time you help out Reaper. He literally can't stand it, so he just stays in his room to sulk for the whole day. 😂

Very quickly found out that you're immortal, and that mortal weapons don't do shit to your health.

Feels a little unstoppable now that they have the God of Death on their side. (You don't play on sides though, which he doesn't know 😀)

Would love to see how you work. The concept of death always interested him, so he always asks questions about it whenever he has the chance.

Dust:

Dust is not the type of person to simp over someone so quickly. Unless it's you.

The first time he sees you, he literally can't think straight. Finds you very attractive. (The fact that you're the god of death makes him feel something. 💀)

He feels so disgusted by himself, like... Killer's supposed to be the simp here, not him!

Since he's kind of like a nerd when it comes to monster species, he literally geeks out when you two are alone, but he also can't talk properly to you, because he's so attracted to you. 😭

You once took him to the underworld and he almost combusted right then and there. You found it quite cute how he almost resembled a kid in a toy store.

Dust doesn't like Reaper much, so when he found out that you two work together....things didn't end up very good. 😀

Killer makes fun of Dust constantly whenever you're around, but Dust always makes him regret that decision... (He beats his ass)

He has those heart eyes around you, which is really cute 😭

Killer:

Everyone knows that Killer will flirt with anything that walks. So of course his first thought was to flirt with you.

He's always close by whenever you're working, which you quickly found out that it's because he's following you, and not in a cute way. (Stalker vibes 💀)

Look, he just has nothing to do, and he's curious about your work.

One time threatened Nightmare that he can use your deadly touch on him, which backfired, since your powers don't work like that 💀 (Nightmare chased Killer for a long time after that)

Is confused on why you're even offering your help to Reaper. (Also doesn't like Reaper 😢)

Calls you weird nicknames, like...'Deadly Cutie' or just straight up 'Dead'

Wants to redo that one scene in Puss in boots with you, but you don't have time for that. He never gives up though.

Uses those stupid cringe pick-up lines. "Is it true that you are death? Because I’m hoping you’ll bring me along." 💀

Horror:

His first thought was that if he died if he tried to eat you 💀

Horror, in some aspects, kind of reminds you of your dog, Cerberus, so you can't help but treat him as one sometimes.

He's just a hungry killer...so your solution? Feed him the people that died. 💀

After you first gave him the approval to eat the person that died, he's just following you around whenever.

Him and Cerberus don't quite get along, they're both jealous of one another.

The only way you can make them co-operate is if you call them "My boys". Which is doing some things to Horror. 😏

"Ugh..look, I don't want you to do that, ok?! My boys! Come with me." "YES SIR/MA'AM!"

Doesn't mind the fact that you're working with Reaper. He actually likes him! ^^ (FIRST SKELETON TO EVER LIKE REAPER!!!)

Cross:

He literally runs away, the first time he learns about who you are.

Look, he's just frightened about your position, he doesn't want to die. (For now)

It calms his nerves when he finds out that you don't have the deadly touch. Thank god for that...

Cross takes a little time before he starts to trust someone, so he's very much just keeping his distance at first.

Couldn't help but soften at the sight of you with Cerberus. He's a sucker for dogs, so he lets his guard down, and relaxes while being with you.

This event got you two much closer, as expected, Cerberus like Cross very much! Cross gives Cerberus belly scratches. 🥺

After that, he's always offering himself whenever you need help babysitting Cerberus! He's actually really good, so you let him. ^^

Also doesn't mind that you work with Reaper. Just keeps his distance whenever you two are together.

Error:

Is amazed by the fact that you're the god of death.

Observes your work, behavior, anything! Very closely...

He literally becomes your fanboy. (Him and Dust literally talk about you all the time 💀)

His fanboyism isn't as big as Dust's though. He has his limits

Always showing off around you, to make you impressed. Showing off his powers, past, knowledge... Anything that can make you fall for him!

He's the first one to volunteer to help you out whenever you ask.

Scoffed when he found out you work with Reaper. Literally can't stand him, but also can't destroy him, just cause he's popular 🙄

Is so salty about the fact you hang out with Reaper the most 😂😂

Epic:

Doesn't treat you differently just cause you're a god. Treats you as equals :)

Definitely showed you so many memes about death when you first told him who you are. (He laughed his ass off during it 💀)

Laughed his ass off even more seeing Cross' reaction. Wouldn't stop teasing him after that. Like, you really just ran away bruh?? 😂😂

Enlightened you in the beauty of rubber chicken.

He also flirts with you occasionally, just cause he finds you cute.

He's also the only one that can make you flustered from his flirting, which fuels his ego.

Doesn't even acknowledge the fact that you're working with Reaper. The only thing that matters to him is you bruh. 😏

His pick up lines are actually really good, unlike Killer's 😂

Reaper:

THIS SKELETON IS IN LOVE FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER AND THAT'S. ON. SIGHT!!

Your bond is very strong, cause you know each other for a very long time. It's going to be at least a million years now. 💀

You're not together, but he's oh so romantic and genuine that others would think you two are a thing.

Gives you roses every day, and you keep each and every one of them, safely put.

Loves the fact that he can touch you without killing you. Almost always having an arm around you. (Look, he's just touch starved! He can't touch anyone, so of course he has his needs! 😭)

Cerberus sees you two as basically his parents, his tail starts to wag every time you two are together.

Isn't jealous of anyone that flirts with you, cause he knows that at the end of the day...you go back to him.

The only skeleton that's bothering him is Dust, but that's cause he literally has heart eyes around you 😭😭

I don't write anyone identical to canon! I write everyone how I Hc them, just wanted to clarify this just in case.

Anyways, hope y'all liked this! Thanks for the request! :D

[nanamistiee]

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ jujutsu high!suguru as your boyfriend head canons ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

✧ suguru got that mf DAWG in him. trust me. satoru and shoko would never believe it, but when you two are alone? suguru's got GAME. he's a sweet talker and he knows exactly how to compliment you and say the right things to get a flush going on your pretty lil face. he's whispering in your ear and complimenting something small like your lipstick or your eyeshadow but doubling down and telling you you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen.... let's be real he's doing this CONSTANTLY.

✧ suguru is a spontaneous yet observant lover. he loves nothing more than to sneak up on you & hug you from behind, kissing your neck, your hair, etc. he's picking you up, spinning you around -- anything. after you two get out of your classes he's 100% taking your hand and dragging you out to your favorite revolving sushi place in tokyo. or he's taking you shopping bc he noticed you needed a new pair of shoes. or he's taking you anywhere like a lil boba shop just to brighten your day. he's very in tune to your emotions and it's something he prides himself on.

✧ at the end of the day, suguru is also practically one of the girlies. he's pretty much the best boyfriend you could ever ask for because he loves gossiping as much as you and shoko do. hell, you three probably make it a habit to go out to lunch and gossip about all the weird people you guys don't like, or even shit talk how stupid gojo can be sometimes. it's all in good fun, of course. but, god, it makes a huge difference when your boyfriend can get along with all of your friends. shoko wants to get her nails done but you also want to spend time with geto? hell, he'll come too, no shame. catch him getting a pedicure gossipping the absolute hell out of your classmates.

✧ suguru is also protective of you and your feelings. of course, he's always looking out for you when you're sparring your other classmates (god forbid you ever have to fight gojo, i think he'd go absolutely insane and intervene bc gojo can be A Lot) but he's also the type of boyfriend to be pretty protective of your feelings and your reputation, too. if he's talking to satoru about you, i just know satoru's gotta make an "eewwww you guys are so lovey dovey" type comment. if satoru says anything about you, your mans is defending you. suguru is a true ride or die and he's gotta make sure everybody knows that !

✧ his love languages are definitely a healthy mix of gift giving and quality time. he loooves showing up to your study sessions with a coffee/tea for you or even a pretty bouquet of flowers to make you smile, but, god does he love just being with you. even if you're sitting in silence because you're too focused on studying, he loves just sitting across from you, watching you intently and wondering how the hell he got so lucky.

✧ he'd rather die than admit it, but, god, suguru babies the absolute hell out of you. principal tells you two to spar together? he's going so easy on you it's unreal. it's not that he doesn't doubt your abilities, but he can't mess up your pretty makeup and hair !!! you spar another student?? he's immediately running over to you and checking you out over and over again to make sure you're okay. god forbid you say smth like your ankle hurts b/c he's refusing to let you walk anywhere for the next 3-5 business days. don't even think about sneezing anywhere near this man.

[pretty-little-mind33]

Tom Ryder x fem!reader

Summary: You're Tom's makeup artist for a movie he's shooting and you absolutely hate him. However, one round of karaoke later, your feelings temporarily shift.

Genre: Fluff, smidge of angst, Enemies to Lovers (very one-sided lmao)

Warnings: Tom is a stupid asshole (but he's also just a mess), swearing, reader is described as shorter than Tom, light misogyny, slapping, alcohol, being drunk/high.

TOM RYDER MASTERLIST

The bar is dimly lit and the loud music resounds in your ear as your knee bounces. You stir the straw around your drink, sighing as you turn to Vanessa, your co-worker. "He left me another post-it note on the desk yesterday telling me he wants a new lip oil because his now tastes weird!? His last one is only from last week and it's the same brand he always uses! I'm so sick of his bullshit, V," you drop your head in your arms and then peek up at Vanessa again, "He's such a dick."

Vanessa laughs, sipping on her margarita, as she shrugs, "Didn't you know that when you took the job, honey?"

"I mean, sure. But those could have been rumors," you pout and sit up, moving some hair behind your ear as you look around the room, where other crew members have gathered around the karaoke machine.

"Listen, don't think about Tom Ryder. You're off the clock and everyone knows he's a world-class asshole—a pretty world-class asshole, I will let him have that," Vanessa hums and also turns her attention to the rest of your friends and co-workers as she claps her hands. 

You look down at your drink, your cheeks feeling warmer than usual. Not thinking about Tom Ryder was easier said than done when you had to work on his face 5 days a week. He was so infuriating most times, either talking down to you when you worked or wouldn't cooperate with anything you told him to do because he was on his phone. Sometimes he really makes you want to stab the mascara stick into his eye. 

Still, you can't deny he's extremely handsome and that just annoys you more. 

Suddenly, you hear a bunch of cheers and hoots from outside, directly accompanied by the sound of the door slamming open. When you hear an all too familiar voice, your eyes widen and you snap around to make sure you hadn't just imagined it. 

Tom Ryder coming to one of the crew parties? No fucking way. Obviously, he's always invited to them but in a very arrogant fashion he never shows up—which is one of the reasons you do, because he never does. 

Only this time he did and he's not alone. 

Tom is dressed in another one of his boisterous outfits, his shirt loosely unbuttoned to reveal his chest and a peak of his toned abs. Pink-tinted sunglasses sit on his nose and his dirty blond hair curls messily around his face.

He looks drunk, or high, when he walks in and you can't tell which one it is because he's constantly moving and laughing. He's accompanied by a few other low A-list actor friends he has and a pretty blond model hangs on his arm, her giggles instantly infuriating you. 

How can she stand to be near him for more than a minute? Even less hold his arm and be his eye-candy? 

You turn back around, desperately attempting to calm the bile rising in your throat. God, you hate him. You feel even worse when he leans beside you at the bar and orders a drink from the bartender, snapping his fingers as he does. He doesn't even address your presence beside him and your blood boils. 

Your anger immediately turns to disgust when you hear the man hosting the karaoke scream out Tom Ryder's name.

"Tom Ryder everyone! I loved your new movie, man, it was awesome! How about a song?" the man asks, eyebrows wiggling as the crew clap (mostly out of politeness) and his friends make loud, drunken noises like a bunch of animals. 

"C'mon! One song—for all the pretty ladies in the crowd!"

Tom seems intrigued when the man mentions the girls. You roll your eyes and your hand tightens around your glass as he walks up to the host, raising his hands in surrender and feigning humbleness. "Alright, alright, I have to give the ladies what they want, don't I?" Tom boasts, winking at one of the camera girls he never looks at otherwise. 

Someone put you out of your misery now.

The host seems ecstatic to have someone this famous next to him and asks Tom for a quick photo, which Tom obviously doesn't turn down. You pretend to gag when Vanessa turns to look at you and smirks at Tom's behavior.. 

"How about a duet, Ryder?" The host asks as he hands him the mic. 

"Nah, I usually sing solo," Tom says, his words slightly slurred, and then he leans in to whisper something in the host's ear—which probably goes something like, "Unless she's got a nice rack, then by all means invite her up here." 

You lean in and whisper into Vanessa's ear, "Ten bucks he takes home the girl he ends up singing with," you say with a frown, your voice a little strained. Vanessa laughs and then the worst thing happens.

"You," the host shouts and you look up alarmed. Your eyes are wide when you realize everyone, including Tom, is staring at you. "The angry-looking girl in the back. Why don't you come up and join him? I doubt he'd bite." 

Laughter, including some nervous ones from your friends, resounds around the room as Tom's smirk widens. You'd be surprised, you think. You find your voice again and say, "Um, can't you ask one of them?" you point to the group of eager fangirls swarming around the small stage as they ogle Tom. 

"C'mon, sweetheart," Tom slurs, squinting at you, "One song won't kill you." 

But you might just kill him.

Vanessa, the traitor, nudges you again and you stumble from the stool. You glare at her but when all your friends, including Tom's more obnoxious friends, chant encouragements you feel completely trapped. 

The walk to the small stage feels eerily similar to a walk of shame as you look to your co-workers in hopes someone will save you. No one does and you ignore the stares from all the girls who wish they could take your place. 

You're blinded by the lights as you step on the stage and approach the host. "Atta girl," the man smirks patronizingly as he hands you the second mic. You scrunch your nose at him and then look up at Tom, expecting him to be ignoring you like he usually is, but instead, he's staring. 

His cheeks are pink from being intoxicated and he tilts his head, watching you clutch the mic nervously. 

The host doesn't warn you when the song begins to play and he walks away. You realize too late you and Tom are now alone and everyone is watching you as dread slowly fills your stomach. 

You don't even know how to sing! This is so humiliating. 

 The familiar melody of, "Don't Go Breaking My Heart," fills the air and you feel the heat rise in your chest and up to your ears. Your heart is pounding so loudly you can only faintly hear Tom start to sing the song. He sounds fairly good and you aren't surprised considering he's an actor. 

Your voice catches in your throat and you feel tears rise. You don't sing when it's your turn and the crowd is silent. 

Suddenly, you jump when you feel a strong hand on your hip and you snap your head around to look at him. Your hand finds Tom's hand immediately, gripping it, and just as you're about to pull it away, he leans in and whispers, hot against your ear, "Baby doll, you're making me look bad," he states, his tone as condescending as it always is, and your heart does a somersault in your chest.

He looks down at you this time, his blue eyes lock with yours for a moment and his hand falters on your hip. For an actor, Tom Ryder has surprisingly no poker face because when he sees your distressed state, his demeanor shifts, and instead of frustration, he takes on a different approach.   

He takes your hand, suddenly twirling you around and you make a small sound as you stumble. It's been a few seconds since anyone has sung the song, so he sings again and this time, his eyes stay on yours as he sings your lyrics.

"You know this," he mouths, encouraging you as he does this weird, clearly drunk-induced shimmy that makes you laugh despite your better judgment. He points to the small screen where the lyrics are displayed.

You take a breath and then sing, focusing on him instead of the crowd and your head feels light. You would have never guessed there would be a day when you'd find comfort in Tom Ryder. Your friends clap with amusement and laughter swirls around the bar as you both continue to sing and dance. 

Occasionally, Tom will pull you in closer but you'll move away, flustered, and when the song finally ends, you move back and almost trip on the mic's cord. 

With a gasp, you expect to fall flat on your ass but instead, Tom wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you into him as your palms press on his chest. You're breathing heavily and so is he, his hand is still on your back as his eyes roam over all your features until you push him away and walk down the small stairs and back to the ground where all your friends are whispering and clapping. 

You feel like you can't breathe, your heart beating so quickly. You mumble a quick "excuse me" to Vanessa, snatch your purse from the bar counter, and open the door to outside. The cool air calms your burning skin and you lean against the building. 

What the fuck was that? Why was he looking at you like that? 

"You know, it's normal to be nervous around someone like me," Tom's voice interrupts your panic and you spin around, not expecting to see him. "But running from me? Now, darling, that's truly a first," he finishes with a chuckle and an obnoxious smirk. 

"You're so full of yourself," you whisper automatically but then your eyes round as if you've realized what you'd said. 

Tom looks surprised but he also remains cool as he strokes a hand down his jaw and puts it on his hip. "Mm, I assume you're not a fan then." 

You cross your arms and look anywhere but directly at him because fuck, why did someone so incredibly stupid and pretentious have to be so darn hot? "You could say that, sure," you shrug. "Not everyone likes you, Tom Ryder." You shut yourself up as soon as the words leave your mouth. This isn't exactly something you should say to someone who you work with.

However, Tom's expression sours and he lifts his eyebrow. "You don't like me?"

You turn to him, eyes locking with him this time. "That isn't what I said."

Tom's eyebrows crease and he squints at you, removing his stupid sunglasses and they push back his blond hair. "You're confusing me." He sounds genuine. 

You can't help but chuckle at his idiocy and surprisingly for you, your laughter makes him smile. He leans in and you lean away, eyes round when you realize how close he's becoming. "You have such a sexy laugh," he says cockily, "Bet I can make you do it again."

You hate to admit this but your heart does flutter at his words. Can anyone really blame you? It's Tom. Fucking. Ryder. You try to remind yourself how much of a dick he is—and always has been—but as you look into the blue of his eyes, his reassuring touch burns imprints on your skin and you feel dizzy. 

Shit. 

"You look familiar," Tom straightens himself, "Have I seen you somewhere? You been in any magazines? You certainly have the look."

You ignore the so-called complement and stare at him. He has to be kidding. You've been doing his makeup for over six months now and he supposedly sees you almost every day. You worked on his face every single day—how could he not recognize you? You open your mouth to ask if this is a joke but he interrupts you.

"Seriously, I must know you from somewhere. Gimme a hint, baby,"

Your stomach sinks and you feel so so stupid. Tom doesn't sense your shift as he's still focused on whatever fleeting emotion may have been between you before as his hand finds your hip. 

Instantly, your palm connects with his cheek, and the sound cracks into the air. "Don't touch me," you say harshly, ignoring how shaky your voice is.

Tom looks at you, his hand over his bruised cheek, "You hit me?!" he says in disbelief, "What the fu—" 

You don't stick around to hear his whining as you turn around and run from him. 

Again. 

"Hey–wait!" you hear Tom's shout but why would you turn around now? Tears of frustration brim your eyes as you hastily walk down the empty sidewalk.

There is no way you're fucking crying over Tom fucking Ryder right now, you tell yourself and pinch the inside of your eyes. 

No way. 

You ignore Vanessa's incessant calling and her worried texts when you arrive at your apartment. You scream in frustration, throwing your heels across the room and scaring your poor cat, Pumpkin, as she sprints into the living room, her claws against the floorboards.

Quickly, you follow her and scoop her into your arms, "'M sorry, baby," you coo and nuzzle your nose into her fur. "I'm sorry Mommy scared you."

You hear Vanessa's fifth call from your purse but you're too exhausted to deal with her and the fallout from what had happened tonight, so instead you sit on the couch and cuddle with Pumpkin, scratching behind her ears. 

* * * 

When you pull into the parking lot of the new set the next morning, you haven't slept well and you feel like shit—it doesn't help that they're filming outside today, in the summer heat, and grainy sand infiltrates into your Converse. 

You groan as you walk over to the makeup trailer and see Vanessa waiting for you. You almost called in sick this morning until you realized how guilty that would make you look, so you sucked it up. 

"Y/n?!" Vanessa shrieks and pulls you behind the trailer. "Where have you been?! I've called you a hundred times, why haven't you answered any of them? I was worried Ryder somehow took you home and that I'd lost 10 bucks—" 

"Gross, why would you think that?" you say with disgust as if you weren't surprised to hear that after you left Tom hadn't returned to the bar. 

"I mean, for one, Ryder was missing and no one knew where he went. And second, are you shitting me? Girl, the tension was more than palpable! You were practically dry-humping Tom Ryder in front of everyone!" 

You feel like someone has just punched you in the stomach and your voice comes out high and nervous when you exclaim, "I was not! It wasn't like that, V! Is that what everyone thinks?" Vanessa nods as an answer and you want to scream. 

"I swear, I- nothing happened—even outside—I- funny story I slapped him because he's a jerk and I- I don't like him!" you ramble and your heart thumps quicker when Vanessa looks behind you and her mouth curls into a devious smirk.

"Don't look now, sweetie, but your boyfriend just arrived," she pauses and checks her watch, "An hour late. As usual." Vanessa looks you dead in the eyes and then she teases, "Chop chop, time to put makeup on your man." 

Your eyes widen and you pull Vanessa further behind the trailer so Tom won't see you or her. You hold her shoulders. "Please switch with me for today. He won't even notice the difference, and Allie doesn't need to have her makeup done until noon so that way I don't have to see him! Please, V, I'll do anything!" 

Vanessa crosses her arms, "Nothing happened with him, hm?"

You look at her, your eyes round and pleading, "Please."

"Fine, but you're paying for my lunch later," she says and taps your nose, "and giving me a detailed rundown on what happened with Ryder."

You nod reluctantly, whispering a small thank you under your breath as she turns to walk into the makeup trailer behind Tom. You let out a breath, leaning against the trailer. You know you'll have to face him at some point—just not now.

The day drags on and on as the heat is becoming almost unbearable. You stand to the side, your makeup kit secured to your hip as you watch the scene from under a tent. It's another action sequence and it's very obvious Tom's makeup is fading from the warmth and his sweat. 

Shit, you realize, he needs a touch-up. Vanessa didn't use the correct primer. 

You look around, hoping to see Vanessa and tell her Ryder needs a touch but the director's voice cuts in and you tense, "Cut! Someone come to fix his face!" Jody turns to you, her eyes kind as her voice becomes a little less stressed when she sees you're prepared for this, "Can you fix his makeup?" 

Shit, shit, shit. 

This is your job, you can't say no so you walk out onto the set where Tom is leaning against a prop rock. He straightens himself and when he turns, he doesn't have the chance to process your presence as you guide him down and fumble with your kit. 

He's taller than you so he's leaning down so you can fix him up properly. You put your hand on his jaw, near his ear, to steady him as you touch up under his eyes and near his cheekbones. 

He's staring at you and you know he recognizes you this time, his blue eyes wide and puppy-like. 

Silently, you add some powder on his cheeks and nose so the product sticks better this time and when you let him go, Tom opens his mouth to speak, but you shake your head no, and then you turn your head and hurry back behind the camera. 

Your ears are burning from embarrassment as you walk directly to the makeup trailer, without looking back at anyone. 

You've barely closed the door when it slams open and you scream. You spin around just as someone tries to hold onto your arm and on instinct you grab the hairspray that's in your kit and spray it directly into… Tom's eyes. 

He screams too, his voice high-pitched and very un-sexy, as he clutches his eyes. Seeing him only causes you to scream again. "Ryder?!" you exclaim and immediately take his arm, pulling him inside the trailer as he wails like a child and rubs at his eyes. 

You slap his hands away and push him down under the faucet, pouring water into his eyes and in the process drenching his blond hair and ruining his mascara. 

"Fuck," he groans as he sputters out water as he jerks away from you. You move closer to him and without thinking hold both of his cheeks in your hands, looking directly into his, now slightly irritated, eyes. 

"Does it hurt?" you whisper, clearly concerned. 

Tom rests his hands on yours and pulls them away, "What do you think?" he groans and blinks a few times. "You're the girl—" he mutters and pinches his nose, "at karaoke. I remember you now."

You realize how close you are to him now and, overwhelmed, you step back. "Lucky me," you mumble sarcastically and take his arm, pulling him to one of the seats. "I have to fix your face again or someone is gonna fire me." 

He's weirdly docile as he looks at your work as you dry his hair. Once you're done, he speaks up, "Why'd you run from me? I mean, c'mon, the way you looked at me with those fuck-me eyes—" 

Tom has no shame and of course, he wouldn't. He's probably never really been rejected in his entire life and women have most likely let him speak to them like this. You pause and pull his chin harder so he's looking at you as you continue with his mascara. 

"Tell me honestly Ryder, do you even hear yourself when you speak?" you ask, your voice strained. 

"What?" Tom asks, sounding genuinely confused. 

"You're an asshole. That's why I ran from you." You drop his chin and your word vomit comes out without you being able to help it as you cross your arms, "I mean—I have been doing your makeup for months! And you've only ever left me your stupid post-it notes when you have a demand! No "Hi," "Good morning," "How are you?" No. Nothing like that. And I tried! I really tried in the beginning because like everyone else on this fucked up planet I thought you were awesome."

Tom opens his mouth to make a snide comment but you instantly press your finger to his lips. 

"I really thought, "I'm so lucky to be Tom Ryder's makeup artist!" and then I found out Tom Ryder is a shit person that doesn't—"  

"I'm not a shit person," Tom deadpans and stares at you as if your words have hurt him. 

You tilt your head and drop your arms to your side. You don't even know what to say to him anymore. 

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry I made you feel shitty, okay?" Tom defends and his cheeks are pink, "I just—I am really bad with faces—and I-I was completely shit-faced and high on–" 

He pauses, stands, and wraps his hand around your jaw, his thumb stroking your bare cheek as your eyes widen and you tense. Something about his charm makes it impossible for you to move and because his touch is gentle, you aren't too worried. For now. "'M sorry. I am. Can't we call it even since you hit me and sprayed me in the face with whatever that fucking was?!"

He continues, "—listen, I liked karaoke with you and I was shit-faced so I know I must have been a dick."

"You're always a dick, Ryder," you comment, your tone less mad than earlier.   

"Then, you don't know me very well," Tom shrugs, "or like at all." 

"So—you're saying all this dick-ishness is a persona?" You sound very skeptical and Tom just shrugs as his thumb strokes over your skin once more and then he drops his hand, putting some distance between you and him. 

"No. Not entirely. But, you know, that doesn't mean I'm incapable of genuine feelings, Y/n."

You're surprised when you hear your name fall from his lips. Tom sees your expression and another one of his smirks curls at his lips, "As I said, I remember you now. Always did—my hot makeup artist—ask anyone—ask Gail, I mention you a lot. I was just hammered, you know? High out my mind—and it heightened all my fucking senses that I couldn't get your laugh out my head for hours." 

"If you're joking," you say and glare at him, "it isn't funny." 

Tom puts a hand on his heart dramatically, "'M not. Scouts fucking honor." 

You look at him and for once, you can't read him. "Well, either way, that doesn't change how much of an asshole you've been to me. You never said "hi" but you told Gail about me? Sorry, but that doesn't impress me."

You walk up to him and tilt his head using his chin, examining his make-up once more, and then you take his arm and try to pull him out of the trailer, "Now, c'mon, you have a job to do—go do it," you hiss.

"But—" 

"No," you start but he won't move. He turns around and stares at you. Fuck, he's strong. "Why won't you leave?" you ask, breathless as you step away from him. 

"Do you hate me so much that you won't even consider that I genuinely find you interesting?" he asks with a hint of insecurity in his voice again. "That I liked spending time with you and I think you're pretty."  

Your chest tightens and you sigh, "I- I don't know," you admit and you look up at him. You can't deny that your feelings have shifted and a little voice in your head screams that this is a trap and he'll eventually break your heart. 

"Here," Tom fumbles with the pants of his costume and pulls out a pen and a post-it note. 

"You seriously just carry those on you?" you crack a smile, finding that weirdly endearing. 

Idiot. 

"Yeah," Tom says like it's the most normal thing ever and then he writes down something on the paper. When he hands it to you it's the name of a restaurant. You frown, it's your favorite restaurant. He'd written a time beside the name. 

"How do you know this is my favorite restaurant?" you ask. 

Tom looks up, his smirk turning into a smile. "I didn't—it's mine."

Your frown deepens, "Hm, I didn't take you for a low-priced family-run Chinese restaurant kinda guy—don't you have a personal chef or something," you say and look at the time he's written down, "What is this anyway?" 

Tom shrugs and adjusts his hair. "I do but I like this place. The family who owns it never tells anyone I've been there, it gives me some privacy," he sounds serious and he walks closer to you, "Don't tell anyone, it might ruin my reputation and then your favorite restaurant might be swarmed by a bunch of fangirls," he smirks, pleased with himself. 

You can't help but chuckle. 

"And this," he points to the time, "is where I'll be tomorrow evening if you'd like to join me," he says nonchalantly and then opens the trailer door. Just as he does, he takes his phone and takes a picture of the time so he remembers it and he sends you a wink. "I won't wait long but if you do come, it's on me." 

You stare at the paper and realize Tom Ryder has just asked you on a date. You look up but he's gone and your heart does about ten thousand summersaults as your brain screams in agony. Your cheeks feel warm as you fold the paper up and put it in the pocket of your jeans. 

You're so very screwed.

You hear a ding and then a text from Vanessa saying, "Ryder's mic was on—crew heard absolutely everything—we didn't wanna interrupt your moment," she adds a mocking winking emoji but you don't care. 

That's the least of your worries now that you have a date with Tom Ryder.

[spidrgirl]

MILES MORALES 1610 X READER

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Masterlist: here ➼

Pairing: Miles Morales x sweet girlfriend ᥫ᭡

Synopsis: Headcanons of miles (1610) and his sweet girlfriend who he is absolutely obsessed with and whipped for!

Genre: fluff + slight angst

Word count: 801

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➳ Miles morales loveees quality time with the people who loves, and especially with you. If you arent laid up at his house chilling while watching him play video games, you were probably out exploring the city of New York with eachother.

➳ Miles Morales definitely likes hugs. You know, the kinds of hugs where he can smell your perfume and become so lost in the scent that he'll still be able to smell it when you let go of him. The kind of hugs where your soft and warm body is pressed against his, and he just feels like he's at home.

"can i have one more hug ma? ion wanna let you go yet.." he'll mutter before slowly bringing you closer to him.

➳ Miles morales who is always scouting for you. When he's at school, he's looking through hallways just to get a glimpse of you. during nightly patrols, he swings by your houses and glances into your window hoping to see you peacefully sleeping in the security of your home. When he knows that you are, he finally feels okay.

"Thank god shes alright" He whispers to himself before swinging back around the city.

➳ Miles Morales definitely loves when you plays with his hair. He loves feeling your soft fingers softly massaging his scalp while you tell him all the things you did that day, or just things that you want to do in the future. Whatever it is, he loves hearing it just because *you're* the one talking.

"Mhm, tell me more mama" he'll mumble while slowly falling asleep in your arms.

➳ Miles Morales likes kisses! Kisses on his neck, jaw, or cheeks just make him fold everytime. You can definitely expect makeout sessions to frank ocean or the weeknd playing in the background of his dark room, one of his hands draped around your waist and the other in your hair or cupping your cheeks.

➳ Miles Morales who hates arguing with you. He doesn't like leaving any conversation on a bad note, especially after Uncle Aarons death. He just feels like any moment could be the last he spends with you, so he tries to make the most out of any and every conversation he has with you.

➳ Miles Morales who sometimes has his days where all he thinks about is Uncle Aaron. He comes to your house, enters your room without even knocking with low eyes and a tense body. You immediately rush to him, giving him kisses and multiple hugs while reminding him that his uncle would be so proud of him.

He doesn't say anything in reponse in that moment, but you know he's grateful that he can always rely on you in situations like these.

➳ Miles Morales who sometimes calls you late at night holding back tears, especially when he hasn't had much time to see you because of spidey-business. He constantly goes on mute so you won't hear him sniffling, but you can always tell.

He just misses his sweet girl so much, and feels like he isn't doing enough to make time for her. You always remind him that he's always enough, and forever will be.

"I-I dont know. I just..." he pauses, trying to find the right words to say."I just miss you, that's all. I feel like we dont spend as much time as we should..and its my fault you know?".

➳ Miles Morales who helps you study. Sometimes, you feel really stupid around him. You're smart, but you dont feel like you're smart in the same way he is. It seems like he always knows the answers to everything, while you struggle with answering even the most basic of questions. He reassures you that you are smart, and probably even more so than he is. It doesn't convince you though, so he makes time after school to help you study and do homework with him. Really though, its just an excuse to hang out with you.

"See ma? You aren't stupid. You just need to stop doubting yourself. Podrías ser mucho mejor que yo si simplemente crees en ti mismo." He'll tell you, pulling you in for a hug as he plants soft kisses all over your face.

➳ Miles Morales who gives you the first and last bites of his food. If you have problems with eating, he'll always reassure you that your body is fine just that way it is, and encourage you to eat with him.

"Say ah.." he'll urge, holding a spoon full of the pozole his mother had made just a few hours prior.

➳ Miles Morales will always win the 'i love you more' game. No matter how much you try to argue that you love him the most, he knows that it'll always be the opposite. Its just no topping his love for you.

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#tags #milesmorales #milesmoralesupremacy #milesmoralesfluff #acrossthespiderverse !!

[saikoucorps]

:ఌ¨ ♱ DATING NEITO MONOMA

☆ warnings : none!

☆ tags : gn!reader, fluff, monoma can pull

☆ summary : crush to dating hcs

CRUSH :

Before you guys would start dating he'd copy your quirk just to help you out. Sometimes, he doesn't even explain why he's helping you.

If you're in class 1-A, he never talks bad about you, infact he admires you openly.

The whole class can tell he favorites you..

He's automatically calmer around you, but it doesn't stop him from making snarky remarks at class 1-A

Literally will find a way to cling to you and say something like, "You should be proud you're standing next to me!"

If you're around, he'll automatically try to impress you.

Whether that's by not insulting class 1-A or just using his quirk in a cool way.

Would do crazy stunts and then say "That was too easy."

He would tease you for your interests..

But then secretly learn them later that night.

EASILY FLUSTERED.

If you complimented him he wouldn't know what to say, he'd try to play it off then quickly brag to everyone that YOU complimented him.

He's huge on giving compliments.

He will compliment you out loud and EVERYONE will know.

He can be pretty obvious about his crush on you..

But if anyone tried to mention it, he'd deny it and say you weren't "worth" dating him. (You totally are.)

He can be a huge flirt, but usually insults you to mask how obvious it is.

Makes everything a competition.

Especially between you and him

Borderline stalker. Not on purpose.. I think.

He's able to read people very easily, so if you were upset, he'd try to make that day easier for you.. it really isn't noticeable, though. At all.

He absolutely would not confess to you first. You'd have to.

And if you did, he'd say, "I knew you liked me, I'm amazing."

But he'd accept your confession without hesitation.

And when you two start dating, he makes it KNOWN you guys are.

No one is surprised.

DATING :

The compliments NEVER left.

Neither did the insults.

He has no filter ever, even when he's dating you.

If you're geuinley upset at something he said, he'd try to reassure you that he was only trying to help you improve.

He's still good at reading people. He always knows when you're upset.

Huge compliment fisher, especially for you.

Gives the best advice ever, it can be hard to tell if he's serious though..

HUGE SHOW OFF

The moment you leave the room, he brags about you. If you're in class 1-A, he'd constantly say they're undeserving of you.

Huge gossiper. He's definitely always ease dropping and comes to you with the juiciest details ever.

He always knows what the right thing to say is with you. He also knows when it's the right time to be cocky and tease you.

Always in your personal space..

He'll cling to you, and I mean that.

He'd try to fix your outfit, lay on your shoulder, poke you, use you as a arm rest, or anything stupid.

And he denies everything if you mention it.

Only takes criticism from you (and teaches).. so if you tell him he did something wrong he'd freak out.

But he'd fix it.

If it worked.. he'd think of you more highly (if that was even possible)

But you wouldn't get a huge thanks from him.

He still flirts with you, except he doesn't try to hide it anymore.

Despite all this, he still is a huge gentleman.

I'm talking holding the door for you, moving things out your way, etc.

He treats you like a literal god sometimes.

LOVES to tease you, and annoy you.

100% is the jealous type. He loves what you to have, and wants to keep it purely between you two. So when another guy comes into the picture, teasing or complimenting you, he can't help but feel jealous.

When he's jealous he'll cling onto you more, or become way more insufferable.

When you two are alone, he can act way better.

He's calmer with you, always.

So what he says to you in private is more meaningful.

He definitely becomes way more affectionate to...

His love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation.

He's canonically rich, so I see him spoiling you in gifts and overly fancy stuff.

He never doubts you ever. He only wants what's best for you and your future.

[piggycyberwarrior]

How the Arcane Characters would react to a smart!s/o

a/n: hey guys so yeah.. i am backkk. love you all and pls request or talk to me if you want <3 don't be shy!!

Contains: Viktor, Vi, Ekko, Silco, Jinx

Disclaimer: Okay so i know people can be smart without reading books- but reading online articles or there are different reasons BUT there is no "world wide web" in the Arcane Universe. That is why the reader's a massive bookworm-kinda-smart person (?)

warnings: itsy bitsy teenie tiny mention of mature themes (turn on; feral) but NO further description; mentions of kissing (?), goofy Jinx (like what did you expect T-T) not proof read

let me know if i missed any warnings!!

Viktor

LOVES IT

like really he would be so thrilled to have a smart partner

would constantely go to the library with you- buying old science books or books about stuff that you like to read.

^ he never lets you buy them tho <3

Asks you when there are some issues with his work.. like this is such an honour (my bby has some issues when it comes to asking for help)

Viktor would always and I mean ALWAYS compliment you

-"look at my smart darling"

He just feels understood and so comfortable with you as you are on the same wavelenght as him

Loves to hear you ramble to him about the most random things at night, during walks, breakfast, in the morning, just simply at anytime

peppers your whole face with kisses while you ramble to him in the morning- loves to make you laugh, giggle or chuckle

Also adores it to have deep conversations with you

He just loves you<3

Vi

it would turn her on so much to be honest

like its so attractive (fr guys)

she would listen to you all the time, rambling and or reading to her- even tho she doesn't understand shit sometimes

loves it when you put her in her place when she did something stupid

also loves that you are a walking wikipedia

"Cupcake, what do you mean the dot over the "i" has a name??"

- " yeah its called the tittle or superscript dot- not only the dot over the i but also the dot on top of the j"

"WhAt?"

would constantely brag about you to EVERYONE like its almost embarrassing stopp vi please

used to steal you books from Piltover (still does it to be honest)

sometimes asks you if that one random fact she heard was true

loves to kiss you after you answered her question- as a price for being this smart <3

Ekko

lmao i don't know why but Ekko is such a sucker for intelligent/smart people

like dis man would be on his KNEES for you.

he would be always crafting stuff with you, always making sure you've got a new book in your hand, always kissing the ground you walk on

he wastes no time getting you anything that you need for your studies, crafts or freetime.

Has no shame- will show you off to EVERYBODY ON THIS GOD DAMN PLANET (like Vi)- especially to his teammates tho

loves loves LOVES to spend time with you and teach him the things you know or learned

"So the Midas effect is about people becoming more generous after a simple touch?" "Exactely, but the effect isn't scientifically proven- its just an assumption." "I see.."

also loves your fascination for knowledge

I'm sorry but he would go absolutely feral when he sees you teaching stuff to the small kids in the HQ.

it would make him so happy ngl

He would kiss you after that everytime- praising you that you're so smart

Silco

he would think it's so hot

Lets you read or craft in his office so he can watch you

^ it calms him

i don't think he would brag about you but he would be so proud of you neverthless

tells you that too

isn't stupid himself so he sometimes reads the books you enjoyed reading- he does that because he wants to know what you're talking about- never admits that tho

"What are you reading, handsome?- "Oh.. History of the World- it's quite interesting" you looked at him dumbfounded but quickly smiled "It really is interesting- the text structur is just beautiful!" you happily cheered

he loves it when you ramble to him at night- him laying on your chest and softly carding your fingers through his hair i love this man

just stares at you with that unreadable hot gaze of his when you start mumbling to yourself about some equations.

doesnt look all that dazed but on the inside he is GONE!!

he is so in love

grabs your chin and turns it to his face- pressing your lips onto his. Loves how you squeal- suprised that he interrupted your train of thought

Jinx

she adores it SO MUCH

constantely wants you to talk to her like she sits there- criscrossed, head resting in her palms- listening as if she has nothing else to do.

always wants you to tell her anything that you learned

^ she deadass throws a tantrum if you don't

only really listens to you- thinks you are always right

just like her sister- you have to keep her from doing stupid stuff

^ you cannot tell me she wouldn't do anything stupid lmao

decorates your book covers and doesnt know why you're so stressed everytime she does it (like thats a no-no , darling pls)

like thats so weird and all but she loves to read Picture books while you read Aristotle- just to feel the vibe

"How is your book?" you asked her with a raised eybrow while flipping to the next page- hearing her hum as she was reading that picture book. "Oh it's great, pudding- the ducks finally found their home!!"- "Really, that's good to hear" you chuckled softly

gives you suprise kiss-attacks when you're absorbed in your work

brags to sevika how smart her s/o is but gets jealous when others tell you that you're smart like gurl?

please do reblog, sweetheart <3

[stinkysam]

Vinsmoke Sanji - Oh boy.

Warning : none

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : "Sanji falling for an ftm „he / they“ reader and feeling conflicted not only because that’s the first time he ever realized he liked a guy but also because he never even FLIRTED with a guy (...) And all in all just being awkward and waaaaay overthinking this just because he’s very much a confused newly discovered bisexual as well as „first time trans ally“ and is trying his best. Extra points: Reader immediatly knows what’s up and is just like „lol. : )“ because he thinks Sanjis awkward fumbling is adorable, before he puts Sanji out of his misery and goes „I like you. Wanna go out on a date sometimes?“" - anon

Reader : male (he/they/you)

A/N : Part TWO

Sanji likes women.

That's a fact everyone knows.

Or thought they knew.

So you can guess his surprises when he realizes his feelings for you ; a man. Not believing he could think such things with you !

Why is he caring who you're looking at ? Or why does he suddenly care about the way your eyes shine ? Or how you smile and how cute it is ? Why does his heart beat faster each time you compliment his cooking, your hand gently resting on his chest ? You could probably feel the way it was pounding under your palm.

He goes through a small stage of denial. And thinks he's being an asshole because he still sees you as a woman. Which he doesn't but his feelings make him think he's being transphobic and he absolutely hates it.

Because you're a man and he sees you as such. So when he finally realizes he's not transphobic but just bi he relaxes a bit.

And now he's scared. Because what if you don't feel the same ? Right ?

Or worse ? What if you think what he thought ? That he's being a transphobe and still seeing you as a woman ? What if he starts flirting and you see it disrespectful ?

Wait, how does he even flirt with a man ?

He doesn't know how to do it with any man, or with you, for that matter. You don't flirt with a man the same way you flirt with a lady. Right ?

Would you like to be called handsome ? Or perhaps pretty ? Or is pretty too feminine and you'd prefer handsome ? Or maybe you don't mind and like both ? Would you like flowers ? He wouldn't mind receiving them so maybe you wouldn't mind either ?

God, why is it so hard flirting with a man ?

He's really uncertain so he prefers to start with compliments. Your clothing, your hairstyle, your fighting…

He wants to start small in hope you see it as him being serious with you.

When he eventually starts flirting he's still really shy and unsure, fumbling on his words and stuttering.

The sentence he had prepared for you leaves his brain the second he opens his mouth.

But then !? You flirted back ?! You winked at him and invited him for dinner at a restaurant on the island you stopped at ?!

W h a t ! ?

He feels his heart burst in his chest. Just simply exploding. BOOM.

He's at a loss for words as he tries to smile. How does one smile by the way ? He's so happy he forgot. He's so sheepish he almost doesn't answer, giggling a little before finally accepting your offer.

Suddenly he's hoping he didn't read it wrong and you really flirted back.

"No, because, they could've invited me to be nice. Or maybe he also invited the others as well ? What if it's just not us two and I come with flowers like a fool ? I have to ask them. But will I look stupid if I do so ? …" He thought to himself.

"Um, just to make sure we're on the same page, [Name], it's a uh… d-"

"Date, yeah. Tomorrow night." You say with a small smile, slightly proud of yourself as you look into his eyes.

You swear you could see the way the air got stuck in his throat as he stopped breathing.

"Okay." He started, still sheepish. "Good." And with that he turns around and leaves. He doesn't know where he's going but he's definitely going somewhere. He needs a walk to calm down anyway.

Not that the food was bad the other times but you ate extra good this evening. You had plenty of choice and even Luffy didn't know where to start.

[ephemeral--dreams]

blood and grenadine

Scar/Reader

Word count: 1,531

Rating: M

Warnings: Scar is his own warning...!

Notes: feral cat reader who cannot accept affection is very important to me thanks. anyway I haven't stopped thinking about scar for a month. get him out of my head

☆ ☾ ☆ ──────────────────

You grit your teeth. It's getting tiring, the way he kept doing this. No, it is stressful. The way he goes around taking people you care about or causing mass destruction to get your attention. You worry that he's going to end up killing someone before you ever get there to confront him. Someone could get hurt, and it'll be your fault, because he's only targeting them because of his obsession with you. You wish he'd just come after you directly instead of doing all this. You don't like these little games he plays.

It's a typical but no less frustrating sight to show up to fire everywhere and screaming and him waiting for you expectantly. His head tilts. “What a coincidence. I've been expecting you.”

“Don't call it a coincidence when you did this on purpose,” it comes out scathing, sharp. He only smiles pleasantly.

“Why stop doing something that brings results? You should stop giving me what I want by showing up. You're conditioning me~”

“You can't-” you look away, trying not to simmer in your own guilt. It's stupid. You know it. He'd caused chaos before you and he'd do it whether you came or not. But you still feel as if it's your fault. If you could manage to stop him then these things wouldn't keep happening, but he always seems to get away after he has his fun. “What do I have to do to make you stop, then?”

It's worth a try. Maybe there's something he wants. Something you can get for him or… you don't know. Anything.

“Stop?” he laughs, as if the very idea is absolutely hilarious to him. Some thin thread inside of you snaps. You can't do this anymore. This cycle of violence. Innocent people getting hurt. The feeling of being helpless against it all.

“This is about me, isn't it? Then come after me. You want to fight? Then I will fight you. You want to hurt someone? Hurt me. Leave out the extra steps to get my attention. You don't need to involve anyone else.”

He's silent for a long moment as he stares at you. It's unusual for him to stop talking. But there's some sort of interest. That's what you're betting on. 

“Do you have any idea what you're offering?”

“I'm offering whatever you want.”

The expression that spreads across his face sends a shiver down your spine, his grin razorblade sharp conflicting with the strange infatuation in his eyes as he steps closer, heat radiating as he steps into your space. You resist the urge to step back. “You. Be mine for the night, and everyone here gets to run free! Isn't it a fair deal?”

There's all kinds of implications there that you don't like. God only knows what exactly he plans to do. Giving him free reign over you for even a night is a terrible, terrible idea. But does your safety really matter in comparison to that of others?

It doesn't. 

“...Fine. It's a deal.”

“You've made an excellent choice, little lamb. Let's not waste time,” the portal opens before you are given even a single chance to second guess, a hand on your shoulder coaxing you through. “Come, come. We'll have a good time, I promise. You'll want to join me when I'm done with you~”

☆

You're so tense. You always are. It's one of the easiest things to notice about you. Though it's rather troublesome when what he needs from you is for you to trust him, let him get into your head. 

“...What do you want me to do,” you ask the moment you're both through the portal, not even a moment to get your bearings. Straight to business. 

"Patience, dearest," Scar murmurs, hand still wrapped around yours in a one-sided grip as he leads you through the maze of halls. "First, we must prepare. Sometimes in order to experience the best in life, you have to shed the old.”

Your silence is uneasy, terse. You're waiting for the other shoe to drop, he can tell. It's like you think he's going to do something awful! As if he would, now that he's finally gotten a chance to get his hands on you in a way that isn't a mere fight. You simply don't appreciate how much effort he goes to just to get you to look at him. You act as if he's always out to torment you for the sake of it. 

Which he's not. His intentions are so clear! How haven't you realized it yet? The obliviousness is as endearing as it is frustrating. It's because you don't think of anything but the weight of the world. Stupid, overly self sacrificial little lamb. Not tonight.

He tugs you through his bedroom to the connecting bathroom. You stand in the corner watching warily as he sets the faucet on the tub running, debating which of the oils he wants to put in. What would you like? He knows so much about you but not such simple things. If only you weren't so resistant. He puts in what reminds him most of your perfume after a long moment of contemplation. Then he moved to light some candles. Too dark in here. Scar paid attention to every detail, setting the mood for the evening.

The water steams as he shuts off the stream. He turns to you expectantly, then moves to guide you over himself when you don't come over. “Well?” If you're not going to undress yourself he has no issue helping you along. 

You look at him. You look at the water. You look back. Suspicious. Hmph. You think a simple bath is an attempt to drown you, is that it? What a warped imagination. He's never met someone so overly cautious. “Little lamb, it's just a bath. You've got ash on you from all that chaos earlier, hm? Get in, come on.”

You look no less defensive over it, movements stiff as you obey regardless, clothing neatly folded as it is removed before you sink into the water with the kind of hesitance that feels entirely out of place for what is supposed to be a moment of relaxation. That's all it is. He just wants to ease the tension. That's it! 

He thinks that it's a good thing the tub is big enough for two, as he strips and slips in behind you. 

"Little lamb, relax," Scar's voice is quiet, his hands on your shoulders, kneading them. All the while, you remain stiff, a contrast to the warmth of the water. You really think he's going to harm you, don't you? Skittish. Perhaps that's not so surprising, but.. He lets out a soft sigh. Adorable, but so difficult. “Enjoy it. I’m not the grasping hand all the time, dearest.”

“You're a violent maniac,” is all you say in response.

“And you're too tense,” He feels a bit like he's coaxing a feral cat into accepting affection. It's as endearing as it is pitiful. Do you even know how to relax, he wonders? With how much you burden yourself with things he wouldn't be surprised if the answer was no. You almost seem more distressed when he's here being gentle with you than when he tries to attack you. As if it's all a complete and utter shock to your system. “It would do you good to let go of things. You can't can't carry so much weight forever, you know.”

You let out a quiet huff, but are otherwise silent. Is the idea really so preposterous to you? 

A little of the tension starts to ease from your body under his attention eventually, though. The slightest bit. But it is a step in the right direction. He's got his work cut out for him if he ever wants to get you to love him back, now doesn't he?

“This isn't a battlefield. I don't intend to hurt you tonight. Alright? I just wanted some alone time with you. You can calm down. You've got to give me a chance, dear~”

You tilt your head to look back at him balefully. “Maybe if you stopped causing me stress…”

“Poor little lamb,” he coos, hands still rubbing over your back. “Does it upset you that much?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Then I'll break into your house next time I want to see you. Then you can't complain. Yes?” Let it not be said that he can't compromise. 

“I- fine. Whatever. Just don't attack anyone. Please.”

“Please? Are we pleading now? How cute. But alright,” Scar leans down to kiss the top of your head. You tense again. “Shh, shh, let it happen~ Don't go all stiff again now.”

“What do you want.”

“I want you to be mine, of course. But I'll accept it if you stop acting like I'm going to stab you in the back every time I touch you, for now.”

“...A tall order.”

“We have all night.”

You sigh. “Try your best, then,” it's all the acquiescence you will offer to his intent. But Scar will take it.

He has you in his grasp now. It's only a matter of time before he gets your heart.