#sometimes you just draw something it looks stunning

[averlym]

"careful, or i'll quote that"

[team-frightfur]

love his droopy hair and depressed collar. But I can admittedly imagine him shaking his head hard and all the water flies off. His hair bounces back into shape.

Its ur fault for drawing him too cute

the dark rebels!!!!

[creatingblackcharacters]

No, That’s Not ‘How Color Works’. - Whitewashing

Whitewashing, as defined by Merriam-Webster:

"to alter (something) in a way that favors, features, or caters to white people: such as a) to portray (the past) in a way that increases the prominence, relevance, or impact of white people and minimizes or misrepresents that of nonwhite people and B) to alter (an original story) by casting a white performer in a role based on a nonwhite person or fictional character"

In fandom context, we know it to include:

Making someone’s skin lighter

Making someone’s hair a thinner texture

Changing someone’s nose to be thinner

Shrinking their lips

Changing the character in their entirety to be someone else

The Normalization of Whitewashing

Remember how I mentioned last lesson that despite the nature of poorly drawn Black characters, most audiences are not turned off enough to discourage the action in professional works? Similar idea with whitewashing. Not the same- unlike the Ambiguously Brown Character, which claims to have plausible deniability, overt whitewashing is usually enough to make fans speak up! But that’s the key word here- overt! It has to be “bad enough” to make enough people speak up, but as we’ve seen many a time, “bad enough” seems to have a much higher threshold for nonblack viewership (sometimes the limit doesn’t exist!)

Some visual examples

This is a link to my personal thread on a Netflix show I was watching- Worst Ex Ever. Now, while the show itself was quite enlightening, there was something I could not get over. I thought I was going crazy. And that was that no matter how dark the person of color would be in real life, the animated portions would draw this light pinkish-brown. Every. Single. Time. It's like they couldn't fathom scrolling down the color wheel. And this is a Netflix original! Netflix has plenty of money for someone to have caught this in creation. But... it was produced. And put out. And they're making more of it.

I asked all of the Dragon Age fans about the series, and uh… I didn’t know things were this bad, guys! Apparently this is a man of color, but it doesn't seem like the creators want you to know that 🤣. Jokes aside, as I’ve discussed before, the noticeable whitewashing- and that was one of many racist things I was told- was not enough to prevent sales... so why would they stop? I can only hope this new game, with all the updates, is enough to turn the tide. But the series has gone on for a while now, that if they’d chosen to do ye same olde… there clearly would not be a lack of financial support to prevent it.

Colorism as a Tool

Even when actors of color are cast, colorism often plays a role in normalizing whitewashing to audiences, even to Black audiences! People think “oh well at least they’re Black!” as if that is the only important part. It is not.

While Aaron Pierre, the actor cast for John Stewart of Green Lantern fame, is a GORGEOUS, STUNNING man, he is not the dark-skinned man that John Stewart is supposed to be and should not have been cast! To me, this is overt colorism, but clearly for many people this is not “enough” to warrant concern or even prevent the casting itself- including the studio behind the movie! Black fans have plead for years for the character of Storm to be played by a dark-skinned, preferably African, woman, and it has never happened.

It naturally happens in fan spaces as well, which is another indicator that colorism as a tool for whitewashing is quite effective for audiences. If I see one more Zendaya fan cast for Kida from Atlantis, I will scream. It’s been happening for years, and I don’t think any of the people who just want to see her and Tom on screen either understand or care that Kida is a dark-skinned character. Zendaya doesn’t look anything like Kida- it doesn’t matter if she’s Black too! Just because someone is Black does not mean they can play every single Black character! I’ve even seen people fancast Emilia Clarke of Game of Thrones fame, to which… I don’t have the words. I can’t fathom what would cause these decisions other than racism.

The Common Excuses

I must be honest. I don’t really feel like re-iterating how certain things are not okay and how to fix them, because I’ve already discussed these things in massive detail. So I’m just going to direct the excuses I regularly hear to my lessons, where you can read up on them.

“Their hair/eyes are like that because they’re biracial so-”

Relevant Lessons: 2.1, 2.2, 2.3, 8, 9, 10

There is nothing wrong with having biracial characters with a range of features. I am not saying that! Because yeah, genetics do happen!

But I mentioned this in my last lesson, and I will re-emphasize here, that using biracial identity as a way to whitewash is a sinister form of racism. The intention here- the real intention- is the issue here! The idea that somehow this character can only look the way you want them to look by "diluting" their Blackness… I don’t know how you can explain yourselves out of that one.

You don’t get to use us as an excuse for diversity while still trying to maintain your preference for Eurocentric beauty standards. Black biracial people don’t always look light skinned, thin-haired and ambiguous, and even the ones that do don’t deserve to be treated as your fetish for pretend antiracism. If you just want to draw a white person with a tan, do that. But don’t change a character’s entire look just so you can work in some whiteness. If you want to claim that canon Black character’s mother was white, then I guess they inherited some of her personality because their features should not change.

“It’s my style/It’s the color-”

Relevant Lessons: 3, 4, 10

I hate all excuses for whitewashing, but I’ve grown to despise, hate, abhor and loathe this one the most as I’ve become an artist. I wish there were stronger words to describe just how much I hate the “style” and “color” excuse.

Are style and use of color oft intertwined? Absolutely. I’m not saying they aren’t. But out of everything, there are two things I want artists to understand:

1. Style does not cancel out racism! No style forces you to choose ashy greys and to change peoples’ features. That’s you! If you look at something, and it looks offensive, you change the style. You grow as an artist!

2. “Everyone who is brown will look ashy so I just-” if you recognize that your Black characters look strange in comparison to your nonblack characters, then it’s time to try something else! I don’t understand this sudden need for “realism” when it comes to color and lighting, but not when it comes to hair, for example. No one cares about realism when giving every and all Black characters wavy tresses they probably wouldn’t have, but suddenly milquetoast watercolor attempts at brown and off-putting lighting is “how it works”. That’s not fair.

The color picker is an available tool! I use it often!

Dead giveaway of purposeful whitewashing: if someone gets the outfit color palette right via color picking, but the skin color is multiple shades lighter. That means they were looking at that character and chose not to proceed.

Dead giveaway of purposeful whitewashing: if the white characters in the show are completely correct in their palettes. Again, that means they cared enough to look at everyone else… and not the Black characters.

If you use the color picker and the color picked is… disrespectful, you do not have to use that! You can simply choose a better color that is still similar to the brown that ought to be depicted!

“It’s the lighting-”

Relevant Lessons: 4, 5

If your white characters do not shine like snow in the sunlight because of your lighting, then your lighting does not make your Black characters suddenly light tan.

If your Black characters look bad in your lighting of choice- for example, putting a very dark-skinned character in electric white lighting can be ghastly- try changing the intensity or the color of the lighting. DON’T change your character’s skin color!

I'm going to show you some pictures of South Sudanese model Nyakim Gatwech. Pay attention to the choices of light, color, and makeup.

Look how BEAUTIFUL she is! Look at the choices of intensity and color of light, and how they make her look different in each image.

Now look at this image in comparison:

In this image, whoever did her makeup and took this picture did not take into consideration her skin tone. She's also under this really intense lighting. This is an example of "increasing the lighting does NOT make an image "better"". She didn't need to have lighter skin or "more lighting" to look good. She needed BETTER lighting, lighting that worked with HER.

To see this as an example in drawn art, @dsm7 makes an excellent argument for proper lighting and color, why it is an issue to use it as an excuse, and how to solve that problem.

‼️DISCLAIMER FOR NEXT EXAMPLE‼️

Okay. I am about to show y’all a fan-created example from my personal experience. It is a TEACHING EXPERIENCE ONLY. I am not including the artist’s name in this image. It happened a couple years ago, and it’s over- they’ve chosen to be who they are despite me kindly confronting them about it. The only reason I’m including it at all is because I feel like it would be remiss to have such a clear-cut, multi-level example, and not teach with it. That said, no, I am not telling anyone to act out towards them. Again, that is not what I’m telling you to do. The last thing I need is a literal lynch mob of angry nonblack viewership for trying to teach you all, and y’all sitting there watching it happen to me. Every example of whitewashing is not going to be so obvious, but I hope you learn how to spot the examples in the art you see and share.

I'm obviously a Hades fan, particularly of Patroclus- despite my disdain for the lack of effort in his canon character design. So I've seen a lot of things. That said:

“Well it’s just MY design of them-”

Relevant Lessons: ALL

The sepia coloring did not do this. The lighting did not do this. The design is the exact same as the Hades version, even down to the shape of the hair curling in the back. The only thing that is different… is the man himself.

Y'all. Y'all! You CANNOT take a pre-existing Black character and say “oh well this is my design of them” …and the design is of a whole white person. Because if the rest of the fit is the same, and the only thing that changed is the Blackness… Racism. If you’re going to “make up your own design”, then do that!

“Blackwashing”

Speaking of: I’m sure someone edgy out there thinks they’re so smart as they retort to the screen: “but if that’s not okay, then why is Blackwashing okay?” To which I say- shut up. 😐

The “definition” by fandom: making a nonblack character Black, usually an anime character, but characters in general.

Funny enough, the actual definition in the dictionary (or closest to) is “to defame”, in contrast with whitewash (as in whitewashing history). Maybe racist fans ARE using it correctly when they say you’re blackwashing their characters, when they mean you’re making them “less likable because they’re Black now”. 🤔

Anyway: Blackwashing is not real for the same reason reverse racism is not real.

Me painting these characters brown is not going to take away from the fact that there are far more of you in media than there is of me. Me saying that I ‘headcanon a character as Black with 4C hair’ is not going to make the studio go “oh! Well they must be Black with 4C hair now!” Me saying “oh I think I’d like this character better if they were Black” as a beta tester (less overtly, obviously, because I’m not racist!) will never make a studio change that character. Black viewers have minimal value in comparison to the power of the white viewer’s dollar. I could draw white characters Black every single day of every single game media… and they would still produce majority white characters. There has not been centuries- if not millennia, when we consider Jesus Christ himself, even- of purposeful “Blackwashing” with the intent of removing the original ethnicity- and thus importance- of white people. No one has ever been allowed to forget when someone is white. No one has ever been allowed to forget or not acknowledge white people.

How it could be "solved"

Personally, I love Black edits and I welcome them here. I find them creative and fun. But if you really, REALLY didn’t want us to make those edits, then naturally, we need more Black characters in all of our media!

I wouldn’t have to make edits if I saw more of me to begin with in the things I like to watch- but when we have those characters, racists act an ass about them. We’re not allowed to even be present! I’ve seen too many gamer bros mocking the existence of Yasuke in Assassin’s Creed, and he was a real ass man. But if we made a game about African peoples in African societies, how many of the gamer bros would actually play those games? Do you think there’d be as much support, when we hear so much about Black characters that are treated so abhorrently? How many games do we have where people would love their faves just as much if they were Black? I even learned that Solas was apparently supposed to be a man of color. IMAGINE how many people would not have liked that man, with the same exact plot and characterization.

Something I’ve noticed recently: apparently "Blackwashing" is not a thing when White fans “allow” it. Take this recent trend with Miku. International Miku was beloved! But if you draw any other character as Black on any other day, there will be people that are horrid about it. Ask any artist, Black artists and Black cosplayers especially, who’s ever done it what their comments are like. I’ve read entire missives akin to white supremacist drivel on how it’s somehow morally wrong to make characters Black. Meanwhile no amount of “hey maybe you shouldn’t do this” prevented the movie Gods of Egypt from being created, with a cast full of British White people.

Solutions to Avoiding Whitewashing!

1) Using References!!

Do I think you should know what Black people look like? Yes. We’re humans. It’s 2024. Everyone knows what we look like when it’s time to hate and discriminate against us, so you know what we look like when it’s time to love and depict us. If you’re on Tumblr, you have access to the Internet. ESPECIALLY if you’re in the U.S., as Black people are the source of damn near every piece of online pop culture. If you can find my dialect to make my jokes, you can find pictures of me.

Would I rather you use a reference every single time so that you can only strengthen your depiction of my people? ABSOLUTELY.

Anyone on the Internet telling you not to use a reference or that you shouldn’t need a reference? Unfollow them. You don’t need that negativity in your life. Why would you deprive yourself of a tool to create? The greatest portrait painters in history had to look at their subjects! You are not getting paid nearly as much to do this as Hans Holbein, and he had to stare at Henry VIII correct else lose his head- you can pull up multiple references. I’d far rather be judged for using hella references than be judged for being a racist!

Part of the issue is people draw what they’re used to, what they’re comfortable with (thus last lesson). But if what you’re used to is not what someone will look like… That’s not okay. Their features are not the issue, your skills are the issue. Learn! Practice! There is no rush. No one is rushing you to be perfect at drawing Black characters, and no one is rushing you to post them. You can just practice! If you’re not a professional, you can take as long as you need to draw! If you need to draw that piece of hair over and over until you feel like you have down the shape, you do that! If you need to use a tool that would draw the hair for you, you get that tool!

If you want to post, you can say you are practicing! If you make clear you are practicing, then be willing to accept that people may have feedback. I’d far rather deal with someone saying they’re unconfident and practicing, than someone posting a whitewashed caricature and closing their ears because “well at least I’m trying!”

2) Empathize! Care about actual Black people when you create a Black character!

Imagine, if you will, in the Twilight Zone: you went to an artist, and you asked for a white character (I typed in “regular looking white dude” on google). There’s hardly ever any white characters, you’re so super excited about this one! You paid good money, because you’ve seen just how amazing this artist creates! They’re so good at drawing characters of color! But no matter how many times you ask, they send you back an image of… Assad Zaman.

That man might be fine as hell! Gorgeous! Beautifully done! Chef’s kiss. Stunning! But… He’s not white. That’s not what you asked or paid for. You can’t even fathom how they mixed this up, they don’t even look alike! And when you confront them, they gaslight you, they call YOU the issue for not understanding how you can’t tell that this is a white man! They would never get this wrong! They have white friends, you’re the racist! But you’re not stupid, and you have functioning eyes- you can SEE what this drawing looks like! And… It’s not you.

It’s dehumanizing. It’s being told that there’s a “better way” to look like you, and that’s by… Not looking like you. You, as you exist, are what’s incorrect. Your identity is incorrect, not their drawing. It’s better to have thinner hair instead of an afro or locs, it’s better to have lighter skin, it’s better to have a straighter, thinner nose over a round one, and smaller lips.

And what makes it worse is knowing that people who don’t look like you? Probably won’t care. They won’t be willing to see- not unable, but unwilling- that playing with this caricature is harmful, that they’re propagating harm by not acknowledging it. They’re letting you know that your humanity means less to them than the clout received with a whitewashed or half-assed Black character, and that people will applaud them for that ‘attempt at inclusion’. And people will applaud! They will be entertained by the mere performance! And that hurts.

I’m going to say this, and it’s awkward and I try not to say it directly on here, but… Having Black friends and/or being around actual, real life Black people would help. I can tell from some of the questions I receive that Black characters and their traits- especially things like our hair and our cultures- are being treated as… alien concepts. But even if, for whatever reason, you legitimately don’t know any Black people, you do not need to know us individually to care about our humanity as a whole! Even if you do not know we’re there, we are, and we could possibly see your work!

By acknowledging Blackness and making room to understand what it means- and that includes how we can look- you are doing the bare minimum of acknowledging our personhood. If you cannot do even that, you don’t need to be drawing us.

Conclusion

Here’s the thing: if you want to draw a white man with tanned skin, do that. Just do it! You do NOT have to erase me to have more of you! There is not a single fandom where the majority of the white fans ever said “gee, not another white guy!” It simply doesn’t happen. God knows we wish it did sometimes. You will always have an audience for white characters. There’s no danger to any of you of “being erased”.

(Without putting on my political hat, I will say that a lot of white people who consider themselves to be far from white supremacist will express beliefs in line with great replacement theory if you push them hard enough. It is unfortunately not as uncommon an idea as you might think. I would do some self-evaluation.)

People are going to notice that you only ever draw white people, but… To be frank, that has never stopped anybody from being successful. Again, Jen Zee, at Supergiant with the terrible dark-skinned characters… Still has a job. at Supergiant. A professional studio. Dragon Age. Multiple games of consistent whitewashing and racist writing. Still going. If racism prevented creation and popularity, I wouldn’t have to have this blog. Alas, that is the society we currently live in.

But if you ACTUALLY want to depict Black characters, if you ACTUALLY want to do right and be respectful- not because you want the clout, but because it’s the right damn thing to do- then you need to commit! This means drawing them as they are meant to be! Accept that you’ll likely lose some fan base, who was there (whether they were aware of it or not) for the white and lighter skinned characters. Accept that this means that trying to appeal to those people by whitewashing characters is 1) wrong, 2) racist, which is 3) something you chose to do when you could simply have just… Drawn more white people.

I’ll say it again: antiracism is hard. It’s hard doing the right thing in a society that rewards racism so easily. It’s really hard knowing that people will stop supporting you or caring as much about your work when you start including Black characters as actively as you do white ones, especially if you start talking about the importance of it. But in my honest opinion, I’d far rather be someone that cared about others, with genuine fans, than someone that was racist for the fleeting internet clout of strangers. And that may be less ‘hopeful’ than I normally am in these lessons, but… People make choices. And people who have been informed- as you are now- are aware of the choices they are making. It’s the thought that counts, but the action that delivers- let’s choose better actions.

[buggachat]

adrien never went to public school / adrienette have never met AU where Ladynoir are dating but Marinette has beef with Adrien Agreste™ on twitter, spurred by her interest in the fashion industry and her friendship with Mylene. ads are all over the place of Adrien promoting products like air in a bottle and NFTs and just generally so many products that are extremely poor taste/bad for the environment. Marinette tweets about beauty standards in the industry and all the shit Gabriel brand does to the environment and how Adrien Agreste perfectly encapsulates it all.

Adrien, of course, never responds to any of her tweets. her tweets are just white noise in the background. she is nowhere near on his level. one day Marinette tweets out something akin to "if I saw Adrien Agreste irl i'd punch him in the face" and her twitter gets banned for Threats of Violence, Alya draws attention to the injustice of it via the Ladyblog and suddenly "I want to punch Adrien Agreste in the face [gets banned]" becomes a bit of a meme. NOW people know who Marinette is and are listening to what she's saying (on her new account or whatever). Chat Noir also tweets that he wants to punch Adrien in the face

A hashtag trends. Marinette caves and starts tweeting about the scandals of the industry on her Ladybug twitter too. Adrien's twitter and instagram comments are flooded with both threats to punch him but also just generally critical comments like "nice pic and all but are you not going to address the sweatshop allegations?". Adrien still does not address it. At most he turns comments off. Marinette is gnawing at the wood of her desk.

Then a Ladybug and Chat Noir identity reveal happens.

Marinette is stunned. Absolutely mouth agape. Cannot form words. Chat Noi— NO, ADRIEN— ADRIEN FUCKING AGRESTE looks at her and is like "oh ha :) .... Marinette Dupain-Cheng, right? You're the girl who wanted to punch me hahaha"

after recovering from her world being shattered, she's like...... "hahaha...... um............... yeah...... uh..... so you... DO know who i am. and you're just. ignoring it then. hahaha... ok... thats....... fine..... anyway..... u-uh...... im not... gonna actually punch you. but. um. k-kitty do you um. maybe want to stop promoting deforestation and all that"

he's like "I don't"

she's like. "yes you do. literally in your newest ad you said to the camera 'who needs trees when bottled air is the way of the future'. like did you really read that line out loud and not see a problem with it"

"yeah, that wasn't me"

"what are you talking abou—"

"it's deepfaked"

"..... what"

"all of my ads in the past few years are deepfakes. I complained too much so my father fired me. turns out that i signed away all rights to my face and voice to him when I was 13 or something. he can just use my face and voice and name however he wants. he generates ads. i dont even have access to the 'Adrien Agreste' twitter or insta accounts. sometimes he makes me do runways but beyond that I'm not involved in all."

"... ... ... ... ... what"

"yeah haha... :") im sorry. i wish i could help you more. but he never listens to me. i don't like it either, i.... i've asked him to stop sooo many times. but he never listens to me. i hate seeing my face used without my consent but haha.... i don't... have any rights here so. sorry. i really wish i could help more"

and now marinette hates "Adrien Agreste"™ ads/posts EVEN MORE and is threatening to kill Gabriel Agreste himself. all while kissing the real adrien agreste silly

[inkskinned]

"the curtains weren't blue on purpose. why should we care?"

my love! let me ask you this - did you eat breakfast today? this tiny moment in your life. just think about it. did you?

for some of you, the answer is yes and for some of you it is technically and for some of you it is does coffee count. some of you reached for cereal or gmo-free overnight oats or frozen waffles or 3-day-old pizza. sometimes we eat the same thing, every day, for weeks. i get tired of eggs randomly, only to go back to craving them desperately. i'm cuban; i take my coffee like my father showed me, very milky and sweet.

some of us ate in a hurry. some of us hate eating breakfast but if we don't we will get nauseous later. some of us took our meds first or took our meds after. some of us have a kitchen 5 feet wide and sometimes it's the biggest room in the house. some of us are confident there will be food in the pantry and some of us flinch and say well, the paycheck is coming. some of us turn on a podcast while we eat or we scroll our phones or write in our diaries.

some of us are choosing, specifically, not to eat breakfast. some of us are too busy. some of us are pretending we "just forgot," but we are ignoring the warning signs that everything feels too-heavy. some of us are so consumed with anxiety or grief that we can't eat. some of us can't stand up long enough to make our coffee. some of us have no table to sit down and eat.

i cannot tell you what an artist "meant" by their choices. but they did have to make a choice, conscious or otherwise, to give you information. to give you a little bit more light. each of these choices are little stars of data; connecting speckles for you to weave through, drawing a line.

you cannot use a mirror in a dark room. for some of us; we will not care that the curtains are blue, because that will just be a data point and not enough light to see by. for some of us, the blue curtains will be the same as our childhood bedroom. it will make us seasick. for some of us, blue will be the color of frostbite. it might look like a pixel up close; but from a distance, oh! the picture blooms.

i cannot tell you what will stick out for you. what will carry meaning. some of you will read the sentence "i didn't have breakfast today" and say "this means nothing." some of you will read that and say "oh, me neither." some of you will say "this means the character is probably a little grouchy." some of you will say "oh, i wonder if they're okay. why didn't they eat anything?" ... art is a mirror. i am holding hands with you, over space and time, and asking you to feel something with me.

i want you to read my work and find a blue pair of curtains. i want you to read my work and find things in it that i never imagined placing. i have no way of knowing what will resonate with you, that's true. and maybe i just was hungry while i wrote this, and thinking about the eggs in my fridge. but if you found meaning, that meaning is yours. it cannot be erased just because i didn't "intend" it. you created a different world by interpreting my work. it's collaborative! that's beautiful! that's stunning!

just! imagine looking at the night sky and saying - it's stupid to have a favorite constellation or a favorite star. they're just there.

because here's the thing - across centuries and cultures, we look up. we still find meaning in the stars. these beautiful, lovely scattered accidents. are you looking? they call. and we look back and say oh! of course we are!

[please1mistress]

WARNING FLASHING IMAGE AND COVERT HYPNOTIC LANGUAGE

Isn't it the BEST feeling when you find one of those flashing images that you stop on while you are scrolling through tumblr and find yourself just relaxing and staring longer and longer. Sometimes you find yourself just staring mindlessly at an image, it happens to the best of us. Images can be so captivating that they draw you in, making you lose track of time. Whether it's a stunning landscape, a piece of art, or even a nostalgic photo, there's something about visual content that can be incredibly mesmerizing. It's like our brains take a little vacation, soaking in the details and letting our thoughts wander. Ever had a particular image that you just couldn't look away from? yes, yes I am sure you have, it doesn't matter what the image is, the small flashes and words just seem to draw you in deeper and deeper.

One minute you are scrolling through image after image feeling yourself spiral down that rabbit hole, then one draws you in and you find yourself fascinated by some aspect of the flashes. It's almost like falling into a visual trance. Whether it's the colors, the composition, or the story behind the image, something just CLICKS and you can't look away. It's a bit like finding a hidden gem in a sea of content, or like stumbling upon a treasure that you didn't even know you were looking for. That one image can evoke memories, spark creativity, or simply captivate you with its beauty. It's a reminder of how powerful visual content can be in our lives.

it's like giving your mind a mini-vacation. Just letting go and getting lost in an image can be incredibly soothing. It's a simple pleasure that can bring a lot of peace and relaxation. You can imagine yourself being that woman in the image, her eyes vacant of thought as she reaches down and slowly starts to move her fingers along that arousal you feel, rubbing and moving your hips slowly as you are drawn deeper into the spell the image weaves in your mind. It simply casts a spell, pulling you deeper into its world. The colors, the details, the emotions it evokes, they all blend together to create a mesmerizing experience. It's a beautiful escape, allowing your mind to wander and explore.

Now like this and forget and remember that as you comment on it, how deeply aroused you can be for the RIGHT owner.

[sinsirellaxx]

toxic boys x ethreal!stunning!reader

Like shes SO pretty that everyone has a crush on her,attention is always on her,shes just beautiful and the face of Hogwarts

Slytherin Boys – Their partner is the face of Hogwarts

Warning: Toxic boys! Not proofread as always.

Mattheo …

… is honestly torn between loving and hating it. He was obsessed in love with your beauty, and he basked in the envious glares thrown his way for being your boyfriend, but he also absolutely hated the idea that other people probably got off on you.

… wants to hide you from the world sometimes – when he is feeling low or whenever something triggers his jealousy, which obviously happens way too often to be considered healthy anymore.

… would try to make you wear modest clothing and constantly told you that you did not need any make-up or whatever else you used to enhance your beauty.

… would be more aggressive with you admirers behind your back – it got worse the deeper he felt for you.

… can be mean to you, whenever you don’t agree with him and stubbornly insist to dress up.

“Babe, you are beautiful the way you are. There is no need for all of that – or are you so desperate for attention?”

Theodore …

… is cocky because he finally found his equal. He knew that all the girls were in love with him and that even some boys’ eye lingered on him for longer than necessary, so it was normal for him to have the prettiest partner – right? Right. At least until you outshone even him.

… would clench his jaw whenever the two of you were stopped by some pathetic male asking you for something – anything. A scoff leaving his lips whenever you agreed to help with whatever problem – cause, how dare you? You were just too sweet for your own good.

… screamed internally, whenever you cancelled your plans with him, because a fourth year desperately needed tutoring. His mood ruined for the day. His anger would find its peak when he would see you in Hogsmeade with that student.

… would be annoyed by you at some point. The less people saw him the more he actually started to dislike you.

“They are just using you because you are so gullible. It’s annoying really.”

Lorenzo …

… immediately hates the attention – he should be the only one to look at you with those eyes and the thought of half of the school staring at you lovestruck made his skin crawl with badly contained anger.

… would go out of his way to draw the people’s attention to himself instead. If that didn’t work, he’d just start claiming you publicly: kissing you in the corridors whenever no professor was around, leaving hickeys in obvious places and always having an arm wrapped around your waist possessively.

… his patience snaps if one of his boys actually shows interest in you.

“Love, come here … let’s skip that double-date … you wouldn’t even like my friend – he’s an ass.”

Draco …

… wears you on his arm like a rolex Daytona.

… every compliment directed at you fed his own ego.

… bought you designer clothes and expensive jewelry to make you stand out even more – honestly, he would treat his partner like a dress up doll.

… would hate it if you were to pay attention to any of your admirers though. You were his – and you were definitely not allowed to engage in any conversation with those dimwits without him by your side.

“Doll, would you please wear that pretty black dress that I got you last week? We’ll be having dinner with the boys.”

Blaise …

… is stressed. He knows the minds of pervy teenagers, and it unsettles him to know that so many are obsessed with you.

… would wake up extra early to accompany you to breakfast and/or your first class.

… would run through the halls to get to you as quickly as possible if you didn’t have the same classes.

… would probably also threaten someone that made you feel uncomfortable or belittle them in front of a crowd, always watching them rush away with a satisfied smirk on his face.

“Don’t worry, babe. He deserved that.”

Tom …

… doesn’t notice your admirers at first. But when he does … he hates it. Absolutely detests the attention you get.

… would find it annoying and inconvenient.

… would drag you along if someone tried talking to you and just force you away from that person.

… would scare everyone who approaches you – and due to his friends and minions he always knows about everything – even if he wasn’t with you when it happened.

… would definitely murder someone if they took it too far without batting an eye.

“The annoying Gryffindor boy disappeared? How curious.”

[reverie-starlight]

megumi loves…

a collection of things megumi loves about you.

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. so sweet it’ll make your teeth rot tbh. he won the poll so here’s the fic as promised!! literally wrote this on the bus and train rides this morning after having this planned for weeks. I literally love him sm he is everything to me <3

megumi loves when you play with his hair. the feel of your nails running along his scalp, playing with the nape of his neck- it’s calming. you do it most often when you’re both in his bed, cuddling after a mission or a long day of training. he’ll flop down on top of you, plant his head on your chest and sigh. he waits for you to do something, drawing the sweetest sound he’s ever heard from your lips (a laugh) as he glares up at you when you don’t move your hands. you’ll mumble out a soft “aw I’m sorry, baby,” before giving him exactly what he wants. he’ll press tender kisses to any patch of skin he can reach in thanks. you’d never make him ask twice because you know he truly appreciates this time spent with you and you’d never want him to shy away from you. you’re each other’s safe space after all, who would you be to deny him?

sometimes you’ll do it in public, too, but far less often. these are the times that you just can’t hold back- he’s so cute, why would you? he grumbles about it a bit, especially if you’re around people you know (he’s shy, after all), but can he really complain when you look at him so softly as you play with his dark locks? he’ll endure the teasing and reassure you that he’s fine with it if you start to pull away.

megumi loves running his fingers along your facial features. over the bridge of your nose, the apples of your cheeks, tracing your lips… he just loves your facial structure. it sounds like an odd compliment to give someone, especially if it’s the first compliment you give someone (and in his case, it was the first compliment he managed to stutter out after you offhandedly called him pretty when you were in the transition stage from friends to lovers), but he’s thankful that you seem to find it sweet.

he loves your face when you’re awake, so full of life and excitement that he can’t help but match when you’re both alone in the comfort of each other. the pretty smiles you’ll give him make his heart pump just a bit faster, the lovesick in your eyes after he kisses you… he wouldn’t trade it for the world. he’d do anything to keep you happy.

he loves your face when you’re asleep, too. especially after you’ve had a rough day. you look so serene and peaceful. even if you do drool or think you’re less than flattering, he always thinks you’re the most stunning thing ever. he loves when you scrunch your nose in your sleep, and he always places a hand on your cheek to smooth it out. he adores the look on your face as you slowly wake up and blink at him before cuddling into him further and sighing as you fall back asleep.

megumi loves when you get a bit clingy. everyone is a bit surprised when they see how all over each other the two of you can be (at least, as much as he is willing to show in public- which isn’t much, but for everyone else it’s huge) he loves it when you can’t help but wrap your arms around him because you missed him (you probably saw him less than an hour ago).

he adores the way you refuse to let him get out of bed on weekends, insisting that you need your fix of “never-ending affection” from him before can start his day. and he loves giving it to you. he’ll start with peppering quick kisses all over your face, smiling against your skin when you giggle and wrap your arms around his neck, not at all tempted to squirm away, but rather to pull him in for more.

he’ll be convinced to lay with you for a bit longer, of course, and do it without complaining. because at the end of the day, he loves to feel needed by you. he likes having you close to him more than he hates getting teased by his friends and gojo for being all soft.

believe it or not, he enjoys it when you initiate play fights with him. neither of you go all out- you do that enough on missions- so it’s just the two of you rolling around in bed, laughing and pinning the other down. he’ll pick you up and throw you back down, he’ll summon his demon dog to jump all over you so he can have the upper hand, just to keep you smiling. he knows physical affection is important to you, so why would he deny you of that? he never wants to make you feel like you’re not getting what you need from him.

megumi loves when you tease him. this surprises even him to this day, because he doesn’t like the feeling of getting worked up at all. but his working theory is that he enjoys the intimacy of it. you don’t tease him about every little thing, you know he doesn’t like that, but you do tease him about things hyper-specific to your relationship. for example: that one time he messed up the pronunciation of that word in an argument? you never let him live it down, but you’ll also never disclose the inside joke to anyone else. you might be a nuisance on purpose, but you’re also his number one defender when it comes to anyone else teasing him.

you also like to fluster him. poking him all over when you want attention, blowing air into his face when he leans in to kiss you… it’s all so fun for you. you’ll get close enough to his face to make him blush, you’ll tease that spot on the back of his neck that he’s never told anyone but you about, and he hates how easily you get to him, but he’ll tolerate it because he knows you’re just as easy to fluster as he is.

he loves to tease you back. as soon as you’re back in your room after a full day of not letting up on him, he’s got his arms wrapped around you, and he’s walking you backwards until your laying on the bed, staring up at him wearily… and then you’re screaming because his skilled hands are all over your sides, your ribs and your hips. and once you’re spent, he’ll lean in close to your ear and whisper his own teasing remarks (normally compliments he knows you’d have trouble accepting otherwise) to get you whining and mumbling out laughter-filled apologies he won’t be accepting any time soon.

yeah, megumi just loves you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

hope you enjoyed!!! it’s a different format from my other fics so lmk if you’d want this with any other characters!!

[tropes-and-tales]

Dyin' for a Taste

Day 11:  Face Sitting (Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!) 

CW:  Idiots in love; pining; smut (oral, f!receiving); 18+ only.

Word Count:  4096

AN:  This was requested by an anonymous person!

AN2: When I say this is not edited, please know it is NOT EDITED. Full of typos and sloppy typing. Tropes is a fat-fingered old crone.

It starts with a joke.

The 141 is on a covert ops in the mountains.  It’s cold—the sort of cold that burns, that makes the bones ache.�� You’re posted up in a perch, your sniper’s rifle at the ready if shit goes south.  The rest of the team is in the square below, waiting for the drop.

“My bollacks are gonna freeze off,” Soap complains over the comms, and you snort at the whining tone in his soft Scottish brogue. 

“Shoulda dressed for the weather,” you reply.  “Ghost probably has a spare balaclava.”

“And cover this handsome face?”

“Won’t be so handsome when your nose turns black from frostbite.”

You hear the tsch noise he makes over the comms, the very Soap, very Scottish noise of dismissal. 

“You’ll have to sit on my face then, hen, and warm me back up,” he says.

You’re rarely stunned into silence—you and the guys are always making off-color jokes—but when you open your mouth to reply, you only gape wordlessly.  The silence over the comms grows, expands, until Gaz—fucking Gaz—chimes in.

“I think she’s into the idea, bruv.”

And you can’t respond to that fast enough either, which leaves another long beat of silence over the comms, which likely seems like enough of an answer.

-----

The mission goes smoothly.  The team splits up as planned to avoid drawing attention.  You don’t see Soap again until a few days later when you regroup at HQ.

You think, perhaps, that he’s forgotten.  Maybe that’d be better.  You and Soap get along well, and sometimes he flirts with you, but he flirts with everyone.  It means nothing. 

And yet…

And yet, it’s Soap.  You might be able to lie to others, but you can’t lie to yourself:  you’ve spent many a lonely night with your thoughts drifting to him.  Turning him over and over in your mind. 

Soap MacTavish.  Handsome, almost unbearably so.  He could be a cocky asshole, be the sort of man who knows he’s hot and be insufferable about it, but he’s gregarious.  Friendly.  He’s a happy-go-lucky sort of man—or as much as someone in the One-Four-One can be.

-----

“Been avoiding me.”

It’s a statement, not a question.  Soap corners you in the mess hall, his blue eyes peering at you without guile.  He looks almost concerned.

“I haven’t,” you reply.  You try to shift past him, but he puts a hand out against the doorway, bars you with his arm.

“You have.”  He peers at you closer, his blue eyes somber.  “What’s wrong?”

“Why would anything be wrong?”

You thought, perhaps, that he’d forgotten…but those somber eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles, then smooth out as he schools his expression.

“Maybe you think my offer was wrong,” he says.

“I never said that.”  You duck under his arm, but he lays his hand on your shoulder and stills you again.

“You’ve never said anything about it.”  You don’t look at him, but you hear his gentle snort of laughter.  “Your silence is deafening.”

You feel your face start to heat up because he’s not wrong.  Too much time has passed now to address that moment in the mountains.  You should have said something then, spat out some rejoinder to signal that it meant nothing to you, that it was just another dumb joke between you and Soap.  But something about that dumb joke conjures up the mental image of you and Soap, and your face burns in embarrassment.

So you duck from his light grip on your shoulder and it makes him laugh again, then call out to your retreating form, “the offer still stands, hen.”

-----

A month passes, then another.  You get leave for a few weeks and go someplace warm, a beach with golden sand and soft breezes where you can relax and forget the horrors of what you see every day.

Then you’re back on base, then another mission.  Over and over, the same routine.

Through it all:  Soap MacTavish, the team’s Golden Retriever.  Always with an easy grin on his handsome face, a laugh, a joke.  He teases Ghost, he does a passable impression of Captain Price.  He gives Gaz a hard time about their rival rugby teams, but it’s always good-natured. 

He jokes with you, but that joke—the one about sitting on his face—becomes just a joke between the two of you.  You don’t know if the other men have forgotten it, but Soap only brings it up when you’re alone now.

At the barracks, in the rec room, he’s sprawled out on the couch and half-dozing, half-watching a rugby match.  When you walk past, he notices, sits up.  Beckons you over, tells you to have a seat…then thoughtfully strokes his face with that damned smirk and comically waggling eyebrows.

“You’re a jackass,” you call out as you leave the room, but by now, it makes you laugh…and it lightly stokes that ever-burning flame low in your belly.

-----

Another time, he sidles up to you at the range as you study your targets with their tight formation of bullet holes.  He points out one shot, high in the corner of the paper, off of the concentric circles of the bullseye.

“Missed one,” he says.

You scoff.  “One out of….many.”

He matches your scoff with one of his own.  “Might be losing your edge.”

“I’m not.”  You know he’s winding you up, but that missed shot galls you. 

“Maybe you’re stressed out.”

You set the target down on the wooden railing.  “Maybe you’re stressing me out, MacTavish.”

It’s the wrong thing to say.  His blue eyes light up in glee, and he only gets out the first part of his retort—You know what’s good for de-stressing—before you drop to one knee and start disassembling your sniper rifle, ducking your head and hiding your burning cheeks from him.

“…nothing wrong with it,” he finishes as you shut the rifle’s case, and you realize you’ve missed part of what he’s said.

“There isn’t,” you agree.  You stand up and lean a bit on the courage that sees you through each mission.  You look him square in the eye and add, “but you’re just flirting.”

He gazes back at you, a soft smile on his face, only a little teasing.  “Not just flirting.”

“Sure.”  You roll your eyes.

He makes his Soap-branded tsch sound, then he loops his arm around your shoulders to pull you in close.  He smells like…well, he smells like soap, clean with a hint of something herbal.  It’s nothing he hasn’t done a hundred times—in safe houses after a mission, walking out of a bar on a night out with the team—that companionable way he pulls you against him.

“It makes me sad when you don’t believe me, hen,” he chuckles, and it’s low, right by your ear, his warm breath fanning over you. 

You’re not sure what spurs your next move.  You’re a natural-born sniper; you take the measure of everything around you—the curve of the earth, the speed and direction of the wind—before you squeeze your trigger.  You’re the same with people, cautious and feeling out every angle of their intentions before you make a move.  But you know Soap, and the question around his joke is the only uncertainty.

Something makes you act without much thought.  Your rifle case in your hand, your other hand tucked in your pocket, and Soap’s arm slung around your shoulders…the moment is crystalized, will be an easy memory to recall in the years to come because this is when everything between the two of you changes.

“You know what?” you ask, and you don’t allow him to hazard a guess.  Instead, you gaze at him levelly, straight into those bright blue eyes of his and add, “alright, let’s do this.”

It’s comical, how the smile drops from his face, how his mouth makes a little “oh” of surprise.  His eyes scan your face, quick, like he’s trying to find the joke, trying to find proof you’re just having a laugh at his expense.

“Bonnie,” he starts to say, and his voice has a rough edge to it.  His voice is missing its usual teasing edge, and he pauses to study you.  You don’t know if he realizes it, but the tip of his tongue darts out, licks against his lower lip, like he’s really thinking of it now that it could be a reality.

“Bonnie, are you just…are ye fer real?”  His voice is lower and his accent gets thicker, and it sets a frisson of heat shimmering through your lower belly.

You refuse to blink.  Refuse to look away.  “I’m for real if you are.”

“I was never joking about that.”

“Then I’m not joking either.”  You swing your rifle case towards the barracks, playing at bravery but willing the fluttery feeling in your stomach to calm.  “So let’s go.”

Soap—gregarious, convivial Soap—says nothing else on the walk back.  He keeps his arm around your shoulders, though, and his hand settles against your bicep, rubs you briskly before gently holding you there, like he’s proving to himself that you’re real, that the moment is really happening.

-----

Your nerve wobbles a little when you get back to quarters.  Soap’s nerves must have a similar wobble, because he turns to you and his usual boyish grin is gone, replaced by a grave expression.

“You dinnae have to do this,” he says, “if you don’t want to.”

Part of you wants to back out, chuck him in the arm and say it was just a joke.  You could still back out.  Soap is flirty and gregarious, but hooking up would irrevocably change your easy relationship with him.  It could change the tenor of the team.  And yet…

…don’t you both face death every day?  Don’t you see the absolute worst of humanity?  Don’t your bodies bear the scars of your hard, unrelenting lives—countless scars, visible and invisible both?  Don’t you all operate in your own bubbles of loneliness, sleeping alone night after night but crowded out by the ghosts you all haul around?

Is it too much to ask for even a moment of connection, of not feeling alone?

You gaze back at him.  Sweet Johnny MacTavish.  Handsome but not vain, smart but not aloof, funny without being cruel about his teasing.  Is there anyone you’d rather be with?

“I want to do this,” you tell him, and there’s no hesitation in your tone.  “If you do.  If you really were just joking around, then no harm, Johnny.”

His somber gaze softens at your use of his real name.  “Wasn’t joking at all.”  Then he opens the door to his quarters and turns to you, invites you in with a sweep of his hand, and when you walk past him, he lays his palm on your lower back to guide you.

-----

In truth, you’ve never actually sat on anyone’s face.  It’s one of those funny sex acts that you joke around about but have never gotten around to, like sixty-nine (always seemed more complicated than necessary) or food-play (always seemed too messy). 

Soap, it turns out, has never actually had his face sat on.

And it’s adorable, how he sheepishly runs his hand through the longer stripe of his short-shorn hair and admits as much.

“Figured it cannae be that complicated though,” he says.  He huffs out a breath, and you realize how nervous he must be, and it gives you courage to take charge.

“Kiss me first.  Then we can figure it out from there.”

The tame command makes his face light up and he murmurs, “yes, ma’am” in his brogue, and then he does as you say.

If Soap MacTavish is generally the team’s Golden Retriever, bouncing around with a wagging tail, he kisses with far more finesse.  He cups your face gently, reverently and leans forward, brushes the lightest of kisses against your lips like he’s testing the waters.  Like he’s waiting for you to pull away, and when you don’t, he kisses you again.

It’s awkward at first, but only because you’re both so tentative.  It’s uncharted territory.  He must be aware that you’re crossing a line in doing this, you think, and he must not care either.  But the awkwardness melts away quickly because Soap is a damned good kisser, skilled in how he moves his mouth against yours, his tongue against yours.  One of his hands stays on your face, cupping you gently and steering you, but the other hand touches your waist, your hip, slides around to squeeze your ass gently before returning to the dip of your waist.

He tastes like something warm and spicy, like cinnamon or nutmeg.  Everything about him is warm, really:  the way he cups your face but runs his thumb over your cheekbone, the way his other hand holds you steady as he kisses you.  And the way he looks at you when he breaks the kiss, the almost-shy way he tugs at the hem of your shirt and asks if he can take it off.

He’s warm too—his body, his skin as you bare it with each article of clothing shed.  You strip each other in tandem, and the sight of him leaves you breathless.  He’s like something carved by a Renaissance sculptor, but when you smooth your palms over the dips and swells of his muscles, you find that he’s warm to the touch, wonderfully so, and a wave of lust almost takes you out at the knees by how much you want to feel his body against yours, under you or on top of you, every inch of you pressed against him.

Soap must feel the same way about you—he touches you just as gently as before, almost reverent, but his goddamned eyes practically shine when he looks at you, then groans out, “fuck, but you’re stunning, hen.”

He maneuvers you both towards the bed, and then he stretches out across it, and this is precisely why your sexual repertoire has always been lacking:  when a brutally handsome man is stretched out in front of you like a damned buffet, your mind singularly focuses on one thing, and you rarely remember that there’s other, more adventuresome things you could do.

You’re already turned on.  Ever since the two of you walked back from the range, you’ve been on a low simmer of lust, and the desire has ratcheted up with each kiss, with each little grumbling groan of Soap’s, with each sweep of his big warm hands along your body.

So you’re already turned on, so why sit on his face when his beautiful cock—perfectly sized for you, the ruddy tip already leaking precum—is also an option?

And Soap is no dummy.  He must guess at your internal battle because he says your name softly, pulls your gaze back to his face where he smiles that brilliant Soap-smile at you.

“Alright then?” he asks.  He pats his upper chest.  “You can sit right here, to start.”

It hits you all at once how intimate this is.  Fucking, hooking up—that’s one thing.  But sitting on your teammate’s face feels like you’re taking a further step into the unknown.  Oral sex, to you, is already more intimate than regular ol’ intercourse, but sitting on his face feels…even more intimate.  There’s a lot of trust on both ends:  he has to trust you not to hurt him, not to put too much weight or force on his face or neck.  And you have to trust him too, since you’re basically smothering him you with your pussy, and many men are precious little babies about eating pussy.

“I could just…”  You trail off and gesture vaguely at where his erection strains and bobs against his belly, and Soap snorts before he replies, “we could do both, hen.”

When you don’t say anything, when you don’t move, he adds, “c’mon, sweet girl.  I’m dyin’ for a taste of ye.”

The accent is unfair, you decide.  The accent is not fighting fair.  Soap’s Scottish brogue is charming in the best of times, but his bedroom version is thicker, at a slightly lower register, and it’s entirely unfair.  It easily dismantles the rest of your meager defenses, so you nod and then kneel on the bed.  But when you start to awkwardly clamor on top of him, he stills you for a beat and taps his mouth, says, “give me a kiss first.”

And the kiss is unfair too because it reminds you that it’s just Soap, one of your dearest teammates, a man who often holds your life in his hands and whose life you hold in your own.  His now-familiar taste of spicy warmth on your tongue, and his lips curving in a smile against yours when he whispers, “climb on up, hen  Don’t keep me waitin’ anymore.”

There’s no sexy way to climb on top of him.  Do you just kneel by his chest and throw a leg over him?  Do you straddle him lower and scoot up?  You split the difference, try to straddle him on his lower chest and scoot up, but then his one arm gets pinned.  Any other man?  It might be a deal-breaker being so clumsy, but Soap laughs underneath you—a genuine belly-laugh full of warmth that makes you giggle too.  He wrangles his arm free, then lays both hands on your hips and guides you the rest of the way.

This is unbearable intimate too, being so exposed to his bright blue-eyed gaze. You probably have tons of issues around previous men who didn’t eat pussy, who were grossed out by it, but Soap’s eyes practically glitter black with how blown his pupils are.  His face rarely hides its emotions very well (he’s a shitty poker player), and there’s no disgust in his expression at all.  There’s only desire, naked and apparent.

“Tell me,” he says, and his voice is a low growl that sends that frisson of heat straight to your core.  “Tell me what is working for you, yeah?  Don’t go quiet on me.”

You nod, and you wish you could think of something cool or funny to say, but Soap lifts his head a little and presses a plush, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of one thigh, then the other, where both are splayed in front of him, and before you can even beat yourself up for failing to think of something cool or funny, his mouth is on you in earnest.

Soap, a damned good kisser.  It translates to this, his skilled tongue and lips licking at you, suckling at you, swirling against you before he breaks up the pattern with an outright kiss, then resumes his routine.  He traces the tip of his tongue around the firm bud of your clit, the perfect amount of pressure before he snakes it lower, lapping at the arousal leaking from your entrance.  He’s unabashed about it, groans against your feverish skin, and you love him in this moment—love that he wasn’t joking after all, love that he had led you here, where you sit perched on him while he feasts on your cunt and seems to genuinely enjoy it as he does. 

Any other position, you’d lean down and kiss him, or pull him to you and kiss him.  Now, as he groans against you again, you reach down and run your fingers through the longer stripe in his hair.  He must like that, because he groans a third time, and his grip on your hips spasms tighter.

You remember what he asked of you, so when he purses his lips and suckles against your clit, you gasp out a startled “oh!” but then add, “fuck, Johnny.  Just like t-that.”

“Good?”  It comes out muffled against you, and he pauses his mouth long enough to gaze up at you with a smile.

“So good.”  You shift your hand, cup his stubbled chin slick with your arousal—a gentle movement that makes his smile soften too. 

“Like when you call me Johnny, hen.”  Now he sounds a little shy, like he’s edging close to something beyond a random hookup with face-sitting.

“Keep using your mouth like that and I’ll call you Johnny all the time,” you tease.

“Deal.”  And then he’s on you again, laving your sensitive folds with his tongue, his bit of stubble raising a warm burn against your inner thighs.  His hands on your hips pull you closer, and he encourages the slow, careful rhythm when you start to actually ride his face—a languid back-and-forth, mindful of his need for oxygen, while he eats your pussy with the fervor of a starving man.

Your orgasm approaches faster than you thought; you thought you might have to fake it, since you rarely come from oral alone.  But there’s something about this position.  You feel powerful in a benign way, in charge, but mindful of the man underneath you.  You run your fingers through his hair and Soap preens at the touch, just as he preens when you pant out praise for him, tell him how good you feel. How good he is making you feel.

He must sense it because his grip tightens on your hips, but his tongue moves faster and focuses solely on your clit—teasing with the tip of his tongue, then laving it with the flat of his tongue, then wrapping his lips around it and sucking.

“F-fuck,” you choke out.  “Johnny…fuck…I’m gonna…” but you don’t finish the sentence, you keen out a garble of nonsense as you come.

The heat in your belly pools over, spills over in a brilliant wash that courses through your veins, into your trembling legs and up through your body, makes your vision shimmer and crackle with sparks.  Your heartbeat, your panting breath are loud in your own ears, and you hear Soap groan but he sounds faraway.  He teases your orgasm, prolongs it by licking against you until you grip his hair tighter and hold his head still while you clumsily dismount, then flop gracelessly onto the bed beside him.

You feel boneless.  You feel heavy, sleepy, like you could sink into the mattress and sleep for days.  You close your eyes and feel the bed shift, and Soap disappears for a moment.  You hear running water—he must be cleaning his face, you think—but then the mattress dips again and he’s curling his warm body around yours, wrapping his arms around you as he pulls you to him, then settles the blanket over both of you.

“Good, yeah?”

You laugh.  “Yeah, that was good.  Especially for someone who’s never done it before.”  A beat.  “Give me a moment to catch my breath and then I can help you out.”

Soap chuckles above you, and you feel him press his lips to your forehead before settling again.  “No need.”

“But I—”

“Already came.”

The gears in your head turn slow when you’re sated from sex.  Coming makes you stupid.  “Huh?  When?”

Another chuckle, another kiss to your head.  “When I was eating you, hen.”

You turn your head and try to peer up at him.  He looks comfortable and sleepy too, content and sated.  “Seriously?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Told ye I was dyin’ for a taste.”  He shifts a little, pulls you closer to him.  He tugs the blanket more securely around your shoulders.  “If ye want a second round, I’ll need a few minutes.”

You appraise the situation:  the warm scent of Soap, the feel of his naked body pressed to yours, the warm little cocoon he’s created here in his bed.  Of course you want a second round, but you’re sleepy too, and the thought of sleeping with Soap doesn’t seem nearly as terrifying as it might have seemed before he had his mouth on your pussy.

“Or we could sleep,” you offer.

“Sleep,” he agrees.  “Round two tomorrow.”

The doubts from earlier start to surface in your mind, but they seem tiny and inconsequential when you’re wrapped up in Soap’s arms.  You feel sleep tugging at you—he’s already asleep, you think, breathing deep and even against you—so you chance to brush your lips against the bit of him you can reach and whisper good night to him.

But he’s not quite completely asleep yet because he kisses you back, another press of his lips against your head, and he whispers back, “g’night, hen.”

[risuola]

ENTRY #8 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // You said you love me, I heard it between the lines.

contents: arranged marriage!au, it gets a little steamy, reader discretion is advised — wc. 2556

a/n: longer part, little steam, some more confused fools in love, what else can we want ♡ i kinda enjoy writing the story a little more from satoru's pov, i hope you don't mind! also, the wedding picture that my friend draw for me is here for anyone interested!

series masterlist

You love him.

Well, technically, you didn’t say you love him. You were tidying just next to him, wiping the dust off the shelves and he was on the couch, doing paperwork that might’ve been — and most likely were — partially responsible for his poor mood. He hated paperwork and ironically, Yaga loved giving him a fair share of it — it was fair, he knew that. His missions, his forms to fill but couldn’t Ijichi take care of it–

“We should retake that picture one day,” he heard you muse and he didn’t need to look up to know what picture you had in mind. You had, after all, just one picture together and it was taken forcefully as a proof of your marriage, right after the ceremony. He was in a suit, black and crisp, looking good as always with his glasses — that he didn’t bother taking off for the photo — resting on the bridge of his nose, low enough to show a little bit of his eyes and high enough to hide the lack of amusement he felt that day. You were in front of him, partially exposing your bare back to the camera and holding a bouquet of flowers that someone got you — not him, that’s for sure. As he thought of it, you were looking stunning. Breathtaking, to say the least, in the long white dress, not too plain but definitely not overly embellished. You didn’t need to be dressed in layers of princess-worthy fabrics to look like one. The picture though — it lacked emotion. You were there with him and he was there with you, but you weren’t together on it. You were just both in the frame.

“Why would we?” He asked dryly, growing more and more irritated by the bureaucracy at hand. He was stuck on one of the points, the one he disliked the most because it required him to elaborate on something that didn’t need to be elaborated on. Why would he describe the curses he saw, evaluate their strengths and consider their techniques, when he turned them to dust before they even realized he was there?

“It would be nice to have a wedding picture with some actual love in it, not just a dry, forced pose and stone faces,” you reasoned and your voice was light, it was innocent almost as if you were speaking of something so obviously natural. As if you were not considering exchanging the picture-proof of your arranged marriage into one of real marriage.

“We’re not married for love, do I need to remind you?” Satoru scoffed. He was annoyed. At you, because you were able to make his heart beat in ways he never knew are possible and at himself — for letting that happen. Or for saying what he just said because of course you knew the marriage wasn’t based on love and it didn’t change the fact you just allowed your mouth to slip away words that shouldn’t be slipped. He was annoyed because you shouldn’t feel that way, because he wasn’t ready to hear it, because he’s a coward.

But, instead of getting annoyed, he heard you chuckling. It was an odd point in your marriage. You were closer, the closest you’ve been until now, but the feelings that were undeniably blooming underneath the surface had to force their way through the layer of sarcasm he and you spread out thickly over the course of past weeks. You were still foreign to affection but curiously exploring the topic with each other and Satoru was suffering severe heart palpitations because of it. You seemed to enjoy it though — your smiles and very purposeful touches were enough of a proof of it.

Satoru sometimes wished he could fluster you just as you fluster him and he would give the world to see your face tinted with deep, red blush because of him. He will see you like this one day, but for now, you were still learning to express civil behaviors in the confines of your shared house. You called it a success that fights were much rarer now than at the beginning; perhaps you grew accustomed to the amount of snarkiness and irony or maybe it mellowed down. Maybe the fact that you were spending more and more time together, now working at school side by side, had something to do with the much warmer relation shyly building itself up between you, or maybe it’s because of the long, late night talks you share every night when he’s laying in bed with you.

“Oh, you really should shut up sometimes,” you said and he felt you approaching.

“I should, huh?” He rolled his eyes and smirked, eager to put down the papers and pay his attention to you. His eyes, that first landed on your legs, moved up following the shape of your body until he met your gaze. “And who are you to order me such things?”

“Your wife, Satoru, we’re married, as you probably noticed,” you snapped back, but something in the tone of your voice told him, you’re not as bothered as the bite of your words suggested.

“Married,” he said, humming. His smirk faltered just slightly and for a second, he was silenced by your presence. He couldn’t bring himself to fight against it. “And hating every second of it.” But he’d still reached forward to take your hand.

This time, it's you who rolled eyes but you allowed your fingers to intertwine with his. You sat down next to him, dropping your weight onto the soft, bouncy cushions and positioning yourself in a way to be able to face him. The top of your knee met the side of his thigh and Gojo put the pile of formalities to the side. “You are annoying, you know that, right?”

“I’ve been told,” Satoru said, his mouth twitching into a small smile. “Several times. By you, actually.” He chuckled and shifted a little on the couch. His free arm was rested along the backrest and he leaned his head back, giving you a sideways look. “But I know I am,” he teased with a smirk now fully bloomed on his features. “I’m glad you’re at least acknowledging it.”

“Kinda hard to miss when it’s written all over your face,” you teased him back and he laughed, running his thumb along the side of your hand. Then, he was rubbing small circles onto your skin, grazing over the delicate spots of your wrist.

“Oh? You’ve been paying more attention to me than I thought.”

“You really need to shut up,” you sighed, exhaling slowly in feigned annoyance, but you were clearly amused by his antics and he was growing amused too. Gojo was testing you, seeing how far you were willing to push him. He had every intention of testing your boundaries, pushing your buttons. He was curious, excited even, to see where it could go. You were incredible, Satoru thought, because weeks before he was sure he was going to break you, get you to back off, but you just kept coming at him. He wasn’t complaining.

“But I don’t want to,” he said, his tone teasing as he leaned towards you, bringing his face inches from yours. Your eyes met and the air got a little thicker, a little more warm. “What are you gonna do about it?” His voice was quiet, murmur-like, challenging. He didn’t let go of your wrist or stop the soft circles of his thumb.

“Easy,” you scoffed, but a smile tugged on the corners of your mouth when you leaned in as well. Your head tilted and then, your lips were just breath away from his own. “I’ll shut you myself,” you whispered, right against his face.

Satoru nearly lost it when he felt your breath on his lips. His heart seemed to skip a beat, this wasn’t how he thought this conversation would go, but he wasn’t exactly complaining. He wasn’t supposed to get jealous, to want you, to need you, but now that you were this close, there was no way he was going to let it end here.

He leaned a little closer as well, closing the distance just a bit more. He was practically asking for your lips to meet and the way your voice teased him when you whispered– oh, the man was getting weak. For the first time, he was speechless. His eyes drifted shut, the feel of your lips so close being enough to set him on fire. The silence hung in the air for only a moment before he pulled you to him, his mouth crashing into yours. He wanted to feel you against him as much as he could. One of his hands went to the back of your head and he began to pull you even tighter.

And you purred. Climbing on top of him, straddling his lap and the moment your legs gripped onto his, every thought was lost, every desire was awakened. One of his arms naturally shifted to pull you against his body and the other was in your hair, tangled within the strands. He felt the heat of you on his chest, he felt you on top of him and in his mind, there was no place he wanted you more. Satoru couldn't get enough of you, of being close.

His back was against the couch, he was kissing you roughly, almost desperately as if there was no air on the planet anymore and you were the only saving grace. He had waited so long to do this, wished for it. Every morning he spent looking at your calm, sleeping face he wondered what would you do if he made a move, if he kissed you softly, if he woke you up with his touch.

And now that it was happening.

He didn’t want to waste a single second. Your hands run over his shoulders and brushed through his hair, pulling and tugging them ever so slightly and he shivered from how close to the edge it brought him. Your touch was electric, sending tendrils of pleasure right through his system, filling his veins with something warm and unknown, making him lose himself into the feeling.

Your tongues met, exploring each other and he was focused on the taste of your lips, the sharpness of your teeth closing teasingly on his lower lip from time to time, the sound of your breathing and how soft and smooth your skin was against his own. Your nose was brushing against his every time you shifted your head and each movement made him want more. He felt like he could spend the rest of his life kissing you.

Satoru’s hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer and he leaned forward, pressing himself against you. He had a good bit more muscle than you and he wasn’t afraid to use it if it meant pulling you even closer, leaving no space between. Your body fit with his, the two of you like puzzle pieces fitting together in the perfect spot.

His hands were moving, following the shapes of you, learning them as his fingers were brushing your sides, his thumb sliding along your back. He gripped your waist a little harder and then, his mouth fell to your neck. You whimpered and a small groan escaped his lips as he kissed you there, his lips and tongue making their way to the soft, delicate skin behind your ear and you gasped on air when his teeth grazed the shell of your lobe.

Your fingers tightened on the muscles of his shoulders, searching for a way to ground yourself and you struggled to stay present, when he made it so easy to get lost.

A smile tugged on Gojo’s lips, he felt how hot your cheek was against the side of his head when he peppered tender kisses along the side of your neck. Then, he pulled away from you for a moment, breathing heavily. His eyes flickered over your face, taking in the sight of you before they dropped to your mouth once more. You were so pretty like this, panting and with your lips parted and swollen, red and glistening with saliva. You were so gorgeous with blush spilled over your complexion, with your half-lidded eyes and your arms around him.

His hands were still on your waist, and his lips found yours again — just as hungry and desperate as it was before.

“God,” he breathed, between one kiss and another. His voice was rough and gruff, carried by the heavy breaths and want. “I can’t believe I’m married to you,” he said, his tone full of awe. “Positive.”

He felt your lips curve upwards and your body squirm against him, and that was enough to make him almost lose control over himself. His hand moved from your waist to the hem of your shirt, moving it just enough to get access to the skin beneath it. He kept kissing you and his fingers were shifting from the hem back to your waist, then back again. You were so soft, and his entire body was filled with the urge to explore it. To taste it. To learn it.

He leaned back just slightly, breaking the kiss and you let out a soft sigh. Your cheek was now pressed against his shoulder, your face exposed. He rested his head against yours, his eyes fluttered shut and all he could hear was a mixture of breaths and his own heart.

“We should stop,” he whispered, sighing and you hummed, nuzzling your nose into his neck, kissing him there.

And like that, Satoru melted.

His body relaxed against yours once more. The breath he took was long and shaky, the sensation of your lips on his neck making his brain short circuit. Any thought he’d had of actually stopping threatened to fell to the wayside.

“We should really stop,” he repeated, louder this time, but he wasn’t making any attempts to move you off his lap. His hands gripped you a little more instead. “You’re gonna make me lose control.”

“Isn’t that a tempting thought,” you teased, the softest mischief lining your tone and you gave the side of his neck a little kitten-lick. Satoru groaned when your tongue touched his neck. His hold tightened on you, his fingers digging into your waist.

“Oh god, don’t do that,” he whispered, sounding desperate. His arm came up to brush your hair out of your face and he leaned his head to the side, giving you better access to his neck, despite all of his instincts telling him to not do that.

“Don’t do what?” Your voice rumbled against his flesh, the sensitive area leading from his ear to his shoulder vulnerable and exposed to your whims.

"That."

"That?"

Gojo jolted the moment your teeth sunk into his skin, just barely hard enough to leave a mark and it made him lose it. With a deep groan, his head shot upwards. The hand that had been running through your hair now gripped your hip, and in an instant, he had you flipped so you were flat on your back, him on top and the papers he’s got from Yaga long forgotten and spread all over the floor.

He’ll worry about them later.

Now: you.

taglist: @kinny-away @anan-baban @lotomber @netflix-imagines @kawliflo @nishloves @ghostfacefricker6969 @thejujvtsupost @yozora7154 @cherrycolabarbedwirebedpost @stuckinmoilalaland @ae-mius @ropickle @chokesonspit @lansy-4 @mo0sin @just-pure-trash @foliea @bakarinnie

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Hi! I hope you're doing well and drinking water! If its alright with you, may I request rottmnt Leo reacting to his s/o wearing thigh highs? It can be suggestive or full nsfw, the choice is yours!

Temptation In Thigh Highs (Fluff?) (Suggestive)

Rise!Leonardo x reader

A/N: I decided not to do a full blown NSFW this time around. Sometimes we need something a little more chill😎 Also, is it bad that I don’t own any thigh highs?😂

All characters are aged up.

Warnings: Suggestive themes, implied sex afterwards.

When you told Leo that you had a surprise for him, he couldn’t help but get a little excited, if not curious. That little mischievous smile you flashed when he asked what it was, gave him all he needed to know. It was in fact something that he should be excited for.

Leo sat restlessly on your couch, his knee bouncing while his eyes roamed your living room, as if it would give him a clue of what you had in store for him. After having been dating for as long as the two of you had, Leo was used to your apartment. Yet he couldn’t help himself, hoping that something could lead him to whatever surprise had for him. But nothing gave him a clue. And nothing could prepare him for what you were wearing as you left your bedroom, making your way into the living room, the sight made his heart race and his thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind.

You walked into the room, a mischievous grin playing on your lips. Your attire was but lacy lingerie, leaving Leo’s mind blown as he took in the sight of you, his eyes staying on your legs for a whole minute. Thigh high stockings adorned your legs, accentuating every curve of muscle and fat, and leaving little to the imagination.

"What do you think?", you asked him, your mischievous smile still plastered on your face, yet your voice trying to sound innocent.

Leo’s mouth was dry as he gulped, still somewhat taken aback by the beautiful sight before him. He couldn't tear his gaze away from your legs, the stockings drawing his attention like a magnet. Heat flooded his cheeks causing his face to feel hot, along with a sudden rush to his cloaca.

"(Y/N)... What are you wearing?", Leo managed to say, his voice filled with awe. He had seen you in lingerie before… plenty of times actually, just before he would rip it off of you, but never, never had he seen you in thigh highs. It was as if you just stepped out of those pornos he used to watch before the two of you got together, imagining the girl in the thigh highs were you, pinned beneath him.

You chuckled lightly, enjoying the effect you had on him. "Just something I found in my closet. Do you like it?"

Leo nodded enthusiastically, a warm smile spreading across his face as his usual charm and charisma coming back.

"You look absolutely stunning, (Y/N). So stunning that I think my heart stopped for a moment", he said, placing a hand on his plastron, as if he tried to massage it through his hard keratin.

A blush painted your cheeks at his compliment, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter in your heart, the small thrill you had hopped for running through your body. 

"Thank you, Leo. I'm glad you think so", you said, feeling nervous yet beautiful under his gace. How lucky you were to have a boyfriend, that made you feel so beautiful.

As you shared a tender gaze, a thought crossed Leo's mind. A thought that soon turned into a scenario in his head, building up the pressure behind his cloaca.

"You know, those thigh highs are quite tempting...", he said, resting his elbows on his knees, allowing him to lean towards you, his eyes running over your body once more, his small movements heating up the room, just as if he had started a fire.

You laughed softly, a twinkle in your eye. You knew he would go there. That was why you put these thigh highs on in the first place. Because you loved it when he went there. But you had to act innocent. It was part of the fun. Something that made it even more interesting for the two of you.

"You never miss an opportunity, do you?", you asked, slowly taking a few steps towards him on the couch. It was amazing to watch Leo sometimes. Just a moment ago he sat with a bouncing knee, and now he sat comfortably on the couch, legs spread and just inviting you to come closer.

Leo grinned, reaching out for you as you came to stand between his legs. "What can I say? When it comes to you, I can't help but be inspired". And with those words, he grabbed a firm hold of your hips, before pulling you down, so that you were straddling his lap. Just one of the many positions Leo would be seeing you and thigh highs in that night.

[raeinyourdreams]

'call it what you want.' | l.h x reader

pairings: logan howlett x sway!reader

tags: fluff, no established relationship but.. there's something there, mutant!reader (they call her sway due to her mutation.. i love her i wanna talk ab her someone PLEASE ASK AB HER), AFAB reader, she/her pronouns used for reader, no specific petnames for reader (just bub and her hero name.. gets called kid like twice), no use of y/n, written with x1/x2 logan in mind... sigh... save me x2 logan.. anyway, he gives reader his dog tags before a mission in case he.. you know.. so maybe angst? but only til the very end.

wc: 2k!!

a/n: OKAY SO BOOM! this is my first actual work that's not a drabble and i'm so anxious to post AAHHH, i got the inspo from a post i saw a while ago while fried as fuck from someone requesting a fic ab logan giving reader his dog tags, pref fluffy and angsty so i hope i did ur vision justice OP!! tysm for inspo, my reqs are always open 🫶🏻 also i know this is a very burnt card but if something in the wording is off lmk PLEASEE english isn't my first language 😭 anyway enough yapping plz enjoy!! any type of interaction is appreciated

'just know these are yours now.'

you've never seen him without his dog tags, he never took them off, not ever since the first time he came into the mansion. you'd been there the first time, you were a teacher in the school, and you'd seen him occasionally roam the halls and stay by the door, listening in on your class, quietly. but very rarely interacted otherwise, just a simple nod or a 'good morning' that he'd return out of good manners, but he'd mostly keep to himself.

you're a teacher. you're the fun teacher. at least that's what your coworkers seemed to agree upon, seeing how your students appeared to leave your classroom more cheerful than they entered. you'd be lying if you said you didn't use your mutation as an advantage in this situation, being able to read your students' moods every day, how they were feeling and why came insanely handy, especially when it came to giving each student the type of care they needed. which is why you were also a student counselor.

on the days you didn't teach, you'd put that psych degree to work and counsel. in your classroom filled with drawings and fairy lights and stained glass that looked straight from a fairytale, and a door you'd lock for privacy as a student came to confide in you.

obviously despite your title, it wasn't only students who'd come to your office to let a feeling go, teachers too, needed a space to blow off some steam, cry a little sometimes, because they knew you'd soothe them in the end, touch your hand feel the pain dissipate, make it seem as if they'd never felt that way.

up until now, only teachers and students seemed to come to you for help. teachers. and students.

so it did surprise you when the wolverine started showing up in your office after coming back.

"must be tiring. to handle others' emotions like your own all day." he'd say, sitting down on a chair, to which you'd playfully roll your eyes and shake your head. "i don't treat them as my own, i just do what i have to do so they feel better." you'd reply, walking towards the door to lock it out of policy. figured that he was here for counseling as well.

"you treat everyone with so much care it seems like it." he said, which made you stop in your tracks, turning heel to face him, your hair cascading on your shoulders and moving ever so softly as you spun. before you could speak, stunned, he asked again.

"don't you get tired? i mean mentally. it must take a toll on you to be around so many emotions all the time." the way he seemed to read you stunned you, he seemed like a very gruff, cold person from the brief interactions you'd had with him before. truth be told, this was the closest you'd been to logan since he came back to the mansion. it's what other people thought of him, anyway.

but you weren't other people, you were different.

the feeling in your body when you perceive others emotions is strange. you could never put it into words. your mutation was mostly contact based, a small brush of the hand was enough to let you know that person's feelings, the reason behind them, what they needed to feel better and it made it easier to help everyone. you could, however, see and feel the emotions, sometimes even smell them if they were too strong, no need for contact necessary.

with logan, you almost didn't need to be in the same room as him to feel the amount of physical, mental, emotional strain he was constantly under, his superhuman body subconsciously tuning it out, making him oblivious to it. once, after a very dangerous mission, he isolated himself in his room for days, his expression cold and unfazed, but every time you'd walk past an area he was in, the emotions hit you like a truck. so strong you even cried over pain that wasn't yours, a life you hadn't lived.

you looked at him sympathetically, taking a deep breath to concentrate less on the seemingly invisible fog around you two as you sat on the chair, your expression calm and collected. "i'm okay, i promise. thank you, logan."

"like hell you are." "neither are you."

he stays quiet at your retaliation, a weak smile forming on his lips, letting you understand that you were right, not that you needed confirmation.

sometimes, when emotions overpower you, you feel compelled to speak, give words of reassurance, even if you didn't quite know if they'd help or not. "logan, you should let people into your heart, stop living in fear.." you blurted out, unsure of why you were telling him this, but you'd learned to not question it and just speak, because it helped to just hear the words sometimes. it certainly did get you a reaction from logan, as the overbearing feelings you were perceiving faded.. briefly, before they slowly crept back into vision.

it was the faintest of reactions, but a reaction at least.

he nodded, taking in the words silently, as if he were contemplating. you remained stoic, analyzing his demeanor out of pure habit. "did.. you come here for counseling?" you asked, suddenly aware that you were still working, and you weren't even sure if he was here for another reason, or if he did need your help. instead, he shook his head, looking at you as if he were conducting an analysis of his own.

"nah, just came to see you.. sway."

a knock on the door interrupted the brewing tension, a gloomy, childlike presence behind the door, to which you looked at logan apologetically. "i'm sorry logan, i have a student to attend.. but think about what i said." you spoke softly, your warm voice reverberating in his ears like a hug.. something he longed for but couldn't bring himself to ask.

you started seeing him around the classroom more, or rather, he started seeking you out more. in between breaks, before his training, during counseling. it got to a point where your children started greeting him hello and goodbye if he was in the classroom, interacting with him, playing with his hair, always styled like kitty ears. the way he just smiled and let them made something in you bloom, a feeling you couldn't recognize in yourself, but it was pink and warm and fuzzy all over. you couldn't help but wonder if he felt about you this way, too.

slowly, you noticed how, little by little, the gloomy cloud surrounding him would go away when he entered the classroom, how it would be replaced with a pink haze when he looked into your eyes, or made you laugh.. it would quickly fade away, but you'd notice, and noticed how much it resembled that feeling inside you: pink and warm and fuzzy all over.

as time went by, you got used to seeing him around, swinging by your classroom as if it was his haven, a small break from the world he knew, because you were in it. you'd be lying if you said he didn't make you day too, the gloomy atmosphere that once came along with him every time he entered your classroom slowly changing into a lilac haze.

one day, he showed up as the kids were leaving for the day, no colored cloud, but something seemed off. you invited him to sit down as he locked the door after getting in, his expression serene. before you could even speak his hands were on you, pulling you close to him in a hug, and you swore you could feel him shaking slightly. the realization hits you like a bucket of cold water and you just hold him tighter to you, since it feels like the only correct thing to do.

"you're scared."

"no one gets to see me like this, so feel special." said he, almost as if he was confiding a secret in you, which he was.

"oh, trust me, i feel quite special." you replied jokingly, which caused him to let out a chuckle, though it was dull and almost no feeling was tied to it.

you two let go and you asked him what was wrong, and he opened up like it was routine.

"i leave tomorrow. there's a mission out of state and they're asking me to go.. might be off the grid after that for a while." he explained, his voice remained calm but his eyes seemed to reveal to you more of how he was actually feeling.

"i dunno.. thought someone should've known in case.. things go south." your expression changed at that, and logan noticed. "ah, c'mon bub, change that frown, it's just reality. sure, i might be a piece of work to kill but it doesn't mean i can't die."

the silence that fell upon the classroom as you two finished speaking made the words fall with more weight into your heart, it did little to nothing to comfort you as you came to terms with what he said. it shouldn't have been hard - he was just stating a fact -, but it didn't mean that it didn't cut deep for you. you opened your mouth to speak, unsure of what you were even going to say, but he quickly cut you off.

"logan-" "listen, bub, you told me to start letting people into my heart.. i'm letting you in."

slowly, his hands went to unclasp the chain that always dangled on his neck, dog tags adorning his neck with his names, his identities. you looked in awe as he held them out to you. "gimme your hand, kid." and surprisingly, you did as you were told, holding your hand out as he placed the piece on your hand, feeling the cold metal clink softly as it fell and heat up under the temperature of your palm. you looked up at him, unsure of what it meant, of what this changed between you two, but it felt undeniable, even if unspoken.

“now, these.. they’re very special, bub. a reminder of everything that happened that led to here.. and it’s leading me to you right now.” he explained. “feels right for you to have them, i guess.. keep them safe, kid.”

the silence that fell between you two again was more comfortable, filled with a newfound tension that left much to question, but it didn’t feel right to interrupt with all that noise yet. the only sound filling the room was the breathing and a faint humming of the white noise machine you kept in your room, next by the door. you opened up your mouth again, your mind utterly blank and filled with thoughts and questions at the same time, unsure of which one was going to breach through your mind to materialize out in the cold, tense air.

“.. why me? trust me, i’m flattered, but i’m no one special, logan..” you questioned, and it made him frown.

“you are special. you're special to me.” your eyes widened at the confession and you watched as a soft smile settled on his face, one that made your heart flutter with the sheer tenderness he held in his gaze. “call it what you want.. just know these are yours now.” he said it so calmly, you wouldn't have tought he was handing you his heart, placing it in soft, tender hands and pleading you to not break it, not change it, and instead embrace it and accept it as it came, rough around the edges.

with that, he stood up from the chair, took your hand to squeeze it briefly, and walked out of the room, not before looking back at you one last time, the heaviness that he carried as he entered the room seemingly gone, all that you could perceive was a haze, all too familiar, one that left as quick as it came as his eyes met yours.

pink, warm, and fuzzy all over.

additional author's note: BOOM SHAKALAKA I POSTED FINALLY!! i think it's a little rushed BUT!! it's cause i have a (smutty) part 2 planned for this HEHEJEHE i don't like writing (or reading) series bcs i get sad when they end but i just might.... hehehe... anyway pls lmk what u think!! or i kill off logan 🥰🥰 your choice 🥰🥰

taglist: @allen-444

[mayearies]

… ꒰ঌ ໒꒱

❛ KISSIN YOU CRAZY ❜

miles morales

˚ʚ property of ©hiimayee ɞ˚

genre: suggestive | warnings: miles ooc, kissing, spanish translations: desea averiguarlo? / you want to find out? authors input: i wanted to make more borderline cocky miles i miss it also i cant fucking find graphics for stories anymore im actually gonna start shitting myself also ik i cant write kissing scenes dont rn

summary: turns out miles is a really good kisser

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

… ꒰ঌ ໒꒱

miles liked anything to do with your body, believe it or not. he would get the most out of cuddling with you, kissing you, or just simply holding your hand. but he had a tendency to ask one thing any time he would sit down:

“can you come sit on my lap?”

sometimes he wouldnt even ask. he would just pull you on top of him or give you a pleading stare. he honestly wouldnt pay much attention to you. he would just want you close to him. if you wanted to talk to him, he would be down for that always. hell, he would drop what he’s doing and turn his attention to you any day of the week.

wanna guess how you got here? yeah, he just led you to his desk and placed you on top of him so he could draw. take it as you’re a stuffed animal he wouldn’t want to misplace.

but stuffed animals have feelings too. he didn’t say a word to you. he just rested his head over your shoulder as his finger danced on your thigh in a rhythm, the one matching his headphones. you didnt like being ignored while in this state. you couldnt even get off him.

you bit your cheek as your face held an expression of annoyance. “miles?”

he didnt answer. but you knew he heard you since the tapping on your thigh slowed down and the sound of markers against the paper increased. he liked teasing you like this. and you knew just the way to break him: neck kisses!

he was an absolute sucker for kisses in general. his forehead and his neck were his favorite places for you to kiss. everytime you would, he would giggle a little bit before breaking, “what? what’s up, darling?”

“you never look at me even after i do this for you!” “mmm? do you want something?”“a kiss would be nice. all you give is cheap forehead kisses.”

miles directed his eyes to yours. soon leaving to look at your lips which were lightly glazed with lipgloss. he held a playful smirk before looking back up at your face. “hm. cheap kisses, huh?”

“i bet you aren’t even that good of a kisser, miles.” “hah. desea averiguarlo, mami?”

oh wow. you didnt expect that. or this. despite your continuous reminders for him to put on chapstick, his lips were really soft and smooth. even smoother with your lipgloss on it.

the thing is, miles has never kissed you like this before. he would give you longing kisses like this anywhere but your lips. you thought he did it because he was nervous. turns out he was, but had just played it off cool. but he pulled all the right strings first try.

something about his hand stroking your thigh lightly, the biting of your lip as your lips danced with one another did something for you. i mean, as it should.

pulling away with a playful smirk, he leaned into your ear. “so? did you find out or do i gotta demonstrate again? you got enough attention for the hour now?”

you playfully rolled your eyes as you slipped from his grasp to go sit on the couch and turn on a movie leaving miles stunned a little. nonetheless, he followed you. snuggling against your chest as he pulled you into his lap once more. “what we watchin’, missy?”

“missing.” “ohhh.. y’know what’s really missing?” “..what?” “your last name changed to ‘morales’.”“stop using those jokes you got from peter. just because he got to keep mj with them doesn’t mean you’ll get to keep me.” “yes ma’am.”

©hiimayee

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @jijidraws

Jiji Knight is a latina pinup illustrator. Her work is overall geared toward thick ladies and dedicated to fat positivity out of a purely selfish need to create art she wished she had seen growing up. She often features sexy and soft macabre themes on vibrant or sweet colours and takes great joy in making folx feel good about themselves with her work. She holds a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Illustration and operates out of her very sunny hometown of Las Vegas.

Check out our interview with Jiji below!

Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?

Oh my gosh… I have art blocks all the time. My favorite way of overcoming it is by making fanart. Funnily enough, that’s something I don’t do in my own work anymore. But there are still IPs I return to that still bring joy to my heart. I love returning to drawing Sailor Moon like when I was in first grade. Or I’ll even look up the last fashion week and start drawing the fashion week outfits from the Paris or New York show. Stuff like that is what gets my creative juices flowing.

What medium have you always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

Resin. Resin art is so stunning. People make the most amazing and beautiful sculptures using resin, and I don’t think I could ever bring myself to play with something so complicated. There are a lot of ways to cure it, and sometimes, it doesn’t cure properly…I already work with enough chaos as it is! I respect resin artists, but I don’t think I would ever touch it. I’ve admired it from a distance. There is an artist I follow who does these resin layer paintings. So they’ll paint a layer of resin, then cure it, and paint on top of the cured layer. They build up these amazing paintings using resin…I could never. Maybe one day!

What is one interaction you had with a fan of yours that has stuck with you over the years?

I still remember…It was my first and only Flame Con in New York. I had a fan come up to my booth. They didn’t say hello or that it was nice to meet me. They started to cry! They cried, and the first words out of their mouth were, “I’ve never seen myself in artwork before.” So, of course, I started to cry! So we were just crying across the table at each other. It was just one of the sweetest interactions, and it really sticks with me still to this day.

What is a recent creative project that you are proud of?

My latest collaboration with the artist Missupacey. We’ve been collaborating for two years now, and our last collaboration was for Midsummer Scream. It was two very cute clown girls, and I designed our T-shirt. It was one of the most fun projects we’ve done in a long time. We love doing collaborative work because it keeps working in the art industry fresh—being able to bounce ideas back and forth. So we do it where someone picks the color palette, and someone picks a theme. We’ll get references together, put them on a big board, and send each other sketches. It’s really nice to work with somebody else.

How has technology changed the way you approach your work?

Honestly, it changed everything. I mean, I used to draw for myself a lot. And while I still do that, I now predominantly draw for my Patrons. For a while, I was drawing for the internet. So I was drawing stuff people wanted to see in terms of plus-sized versions of characters—a plus-sized Poison Ivy or a plus-sized Sailor Moon. My Patrons have allowed me to start drawing for myself again. But technology, for a while, essentially dominated what direction I was taking with my art, so I’m grateful to take some of that power back.

If there is one thing that you want art enthusiasts to remember you by, what would it be?

Body positivity. I would love for them to remember that there is an artist making work that is making people feel good about themselves and about the way they look at themselves.

Top tips on setting up an Artist Alley booth?

Have a method of taking money, have a method of displaying your work, and have a way to take a break. I have a plastic picnic cover that costs like a dollar at any store. All I have to do is clip it to my display grates, and it covers up my entire display. I feel secure enough to take time for myself in a 10-hour workday to eat something, go to the restroom, or even take a moment to breathe and reorganize my inventory. So it’s so funny that this one-dollar piece of plastic is like the most life-saving item in my display of items.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

@mayakern comes to mind. She is another body-positive artist who expanded into making body-positive clothing. She’s amazing, and just to see someone else out there promoting body positivity. Maya’s been doing it longer than I have, I believe. It feels good to know that I’m not alone. Her work is always stunning, and I love her body-positive DnD characters and the fact that she’s still plowing through the clothing industry. For example, she’s expanded from skirts to button-downs and even custom-wrap shirts. I love to see what she’s doing, and it inspires me to pursue different avenues with my own work.

Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, Jiji! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @jijidraws.

[vagabond-umlaut]

[11:20 PM]

summary: you know suguru loves you—but do you really know suguru loves you?

tags: geto suguru x you; pining; SO MUCH pining; love confession; can this be called 'hurt/comfort'? idk; you're a goner for suguru; suguru too is a goner for you but he's a cult leader here, so tread with caution, y'all; you & suguru co-parent mimi-nana; both of you are sooo... terrible in love *mwah mwah mwah* (no hate nor disrespect meant for online college courses btw <3)

wc: 2k+ (this was supposed to be a drabble T-T)

series: to fall in love is to create a religion (that has a fallible god)

love is stored in the eyes—

you never quite realise this before suguru.

every morning when he hands you your cup of tea just the way you're fond of it; every time he sets out for the cult headquarters with a hug for the twins and a soft smile for you; every evening he returns home, once again wrapping the kids up in a warm hug, and sometimes even pulling you in; every time you bump into him while tidying your house up after you both have successfully put mimi-nana to bed—

no matter the hour of the day, whenever your gaze meets his, you can never fail to understand that suguru loves you, how much suguru is in love with you—

something that never quite fails to leave you breathless.

something that never quite fails to leave you whirring and wondering.

you have always loved suguru.

you loved him then when he was a sweet kind boy, untouched by the grimy nails of the real world. you loved him then when he was a mere shell of the said boy, cracked and crumbling away at the edges. you love him now when he is no longer a boy but a man exacting revenge on the society and all those in it who have wronged him; a man doing what he deems is needed to correct a world that is already tainted at its core.

you reckon you have loved him since before you knew exactly what 'love' entails. you believe you will always love him so; he's the cause, after all, why and how you've learnt the meaning of 'love'.

but, but, but... why does he love you?

had it been before, it would have made sense.

the eldest scion, the only daughter of a prestigious clan. features not the most stunning but charming enough to draw people's eyes when entering a room. gentle and mild, cultured and graceful—albeit not without a mind decently sharp plus a tongue barbed enough to hush any stinging comment. sufficiently good in academics, besides being the owner of a cursed technique so strong, it has oft been compared with the techniques of the zenin's and the kamo's—

long story short, you were assuredly a catch then.

it would have made a hell lot of sense if suguru fell for you then—but he never looked at you then in the manner he regards you now.

even though you have nearly nothing to offer the man now.

what with having been disowned by your parents, disowned by your clan, since the moment you decided to cut your ties with the jujutsu world and support suguru in his efforts. yeah, true, you still possess your good looks, refined upbringing, quick wits and an even quicker tongue—but you've also seen the curse users flocking round suguru. you don't think you can hold a candle to many, so many of them...

and as to the matter of your cursed technique?

geto suguru is the strongest, quite possibly the scariest curse user in recent history. your cursed technique pales when contrasted against the brilliance of his—there is a very slim chance he would cherish you for it. plus, you've seen the curse users flocking around him—there is an extremely high probability of few, if not many, of them having way more intriguing cursed techniques than yours; ones that would catch his eye much more certainly than yours—

you don't really hold any significance in his life other than taking care of nanako and mimiko, and occasionally putting in your two cents on the affairs of the cult... things, you're certain, suguru can easily find a far more suitable person for—

oh.

oh, oh.

does he actually love you?

you aren't reading the man wrong, are you?

said man merely blinks when you vault this ask onto him one night.

it takes him a beat before he questions back, "what?"

"you heard me, senpai," you hum a breezy reply, fighting your urges to look away and at the laptop open before you; the college you go to might be online but the assignments are in no way any less difficult—but then again, how can you wrench your gaze away when it is your dearest geto-senpai?

good or bad, you don't know, but you've always been too too weak for him. and now when he is standing before you, face crumpled up in an adorable frown while his eyes—those coal-black pools of gravity that are still telling you he loves you—they stay focused on you, and solely on you, not even granting a glance to the fact that his sleeves are not rolled up any more and are getting wet in the tap water—

"senpai," you start, your worry for his well-being eclipsing all the other concerns—suguru barely glances away from your face as he turns the water off and leans against the sink, turning entirely to face you. your ears feel warm under the weight of his unwavering gaze, but you vow not to pay them any mind.

not tonight.

not now.

"i know i've been a tad too busy these days," suguru explains, a weary sigh underlining his soft syllables, and making your heartstrings twist and twinge, "but that doesn't mean i don't love you or the twins—you three are my family—"

confused, you frown, trying to understand just what suguru is talking about... only for the realisation to dawn upon you a beat later.

you crack a smile, the words leaving you drenched in an undeniable fondness, "i know you love us, senpai. you're very much a family man; there's no doubt about it—i was just wondering if you love me or not."

"but didn't you just say you know—ah."

a muscle cramps behind your ribs. you realise you've never been this forthright before.

you've never loved anyone before.

those stifled urges of looking away and ducking under the too bright glow of your laptop screen surge once again, yet you suppress them more easily than then—but your heart doesn't prove to be as easy to tame, skipping and cramping and stuttering as you stare at the man before you. mentally drinking in the sight of him standing in the dim kitchen lights, dressed in a loose shirt and a pair of pyjamas with the sleeves soaking wet from washing dishes, and most notably, a novel but so very endearing flush creeping up from the little which can be seen of his chest, crawling up into his neck before the vivid red hues perfuse into, settling beneath the smooth skin of his cheeks—

you suck in a sharp breath, barely perceived but very much felt, when your gaze finally meets his. and those eyes, you find—those beautiful, wretched, wretchedly beautiful eyes—they appear to be drinking you in; inescapable black holes of the universe condensed into those thin sharp eyes you have grown to adore so much—

"i do," he offers quietly, voice so soft you might have mistaken it for a breeze outside had your five senses not been focused on him—solely on him—"i love you... the way you want me to... the way you've always loved me... i—i love you."

were you anyone but you, you would have been nursing a giggle now, seeing the oh-so-eloquent, oh-so-charming geto-sama falter, repeat and fumble with his words and sentences.

were you anyone but you, you would have been sporting a blush now, grasping the fact that you haven't been as guarded with your feelings for your former senpai as you have always liked to think you have.

were you anyone but you, you would have opted to bask in the sweet warm afterglow of being confessed to by the man you've been loving since seemingly forever—not everyone is so damn lucky in love, after all; not everyone gets to hear those three words, eight letters by geto suguru, after all...

it is one thing seeing the love for oneself in the eyes of one's beloved. it is another thing hearing them lend voice to that love.

but you aren't anyone but you.

which is why you can't help but make a sour face, tone bitterly baffled as you ask, "but why would you?"

"why would i?"

you nod your head in reply to suguru's echoed question, deciding not to pay any mind to its terribly dumbstruck tenor. "mmhm! why would you fall in love with someone like me, senpai? i've got nothing to give you in return; you won't get any sort of benefit falling in love with me. why would you ever choose to love such a person, senpai?"

suguru doesn't say anything for a while.

he just keeps staring. too too quiet, he cuts quite an imposing figure as he leans against the sink and keeps looking at you—it would have been creepy, you think, were it anyone but him. but it isn't, he's your geto-senpai, so you don't deem it to be creepy. just a little terrifying, and a lot alluring, if you ought to be honest—

"do you love me?" the man asks suddenly.

you waste not even one breath to shoot back, "i do. you know i do."

"but why would you?"

"wha—" you start, thrown off-kilter by this abrupt swerve suguru has made your conversation take. he merely smiles, not leaving you even one square inch space to wedge a foot in, "let alone advantages, i've brought you nothing but disadvantages, love—had you not fallen for me, you would have been living a comfortable posh life at your clan's estate"—no—"most probably promoted to the rank of a special grade sorcerer by now"—no—"or perhaps, attending a reputed university"—no—"and not have been stuck here, in some cheap two bedroom flat, with the words 'curse user' tainting your pristine image and a bounty on your head so high that you have to sit at home and take an online college course—"

"will you please shut up?"

in hindsight, you'll reckon that you should have kept your voice down lest the twins wake up and start crying in the next room. in hindsight, you'll also reckon that you should never have talked in such a tone to the man in front of you—but in this moment, you do not really reckon anything.

barely restraining your anger as it threatens to spill over as acid from your words, as tears from your eyes.

"so what, senpai? so what? i am in love with you!! i haven't decided to do business with you, that i must be aware of the possible risks, and profits and losses, and all that bullshit—i've decided to love you!! and i'll keep loving you because of and in spite of everything that you are, no matter wh—"

oh.

oh, oh—

oh.

your laptop lets out a faint beep.

one room away, you hear mimiko call for you then her adoptive father.

despite the maelstorm of emotions—enlightened?relieved?mortified?—wrecking havoc in your chest, you tear your gaze away from suguru and get up, a stripe of regret settling in your messy palette of feelings when the little girl's voice reaches you once again, much more frantic than the last time—

only to be pushed back into your chair by a large, slightly damp hand over your shoulder.

"stay here," suguru says, eyes crinkling and lips curled in an effortless smile; quieting you when you move to protest, "and while you're here, teach yourself to be a bit more kind to yourself, yes? my patience can only last for so long when someone insults me or what belongs to me—" he pauses, smile falling a bit as his eyes abruptly dip to the hollow of your throat, thumb brushing a gentle stroke over your collarbone—

your breath catches in your throat.

precisely at the spot suguru has trained all his focus on.

his eyes rise to meet yours, as swift as they fell then—

and you return a distracted nod—too occupied losing yourself in the abyss inside those obsidian pools of love; too blind to the sharp little tilt of his lips, when the object and subject of your adoration croons.

"you do understand what i'm saying—don't you, my love?"

early twenties cult leader suguru is the freakiest of all the suguru's, i believe ^_^

divider by @/cafekitsune

[skzxlevanter]

stray kids reaction with a shy and quiet s/o

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

warnings: petnames, besides that overall fluff, a bit possessive and suggestive if you squint, but not really

found this in my drafts so i decided to complete this cute little drabble :) I’m sorry that there’s not a lot of content coming rn, but i’m still preparing for two remaining finals so i just don’t have the mental capacity and time,,hope you guys understand :/

besides that, enjoy the drabble and feel free to check out other things from my blog :D

bang chan:

oh well he would be so flustered when you get flustered and the two of you would just be a flushing mess most of the time

he really tries everything to not make you uncomfortable, also ordering for you at places and he would be more than patient with you, not wanting to overwhelm you in any way, also being a 100% protective of you

but at the same time he’d try to make things with you that make you come of your shell a bit, things that you usually wouldn’t do, but still not overstepping any boundaries, always letting you know that he‘s here for you

and like i said, he kinda likes it when you get all shy and blushy, sometimes making you blush on purpose and teasing you endlessly for it <3

lee minho

even tho he’d seem quite confident at first, i honestly think that he could be a little set back by the fact that you barely showed affection, but when he figures out that you’re just shy he takes it to his full advance

he does not miss a chance to flutter you when he can by giving you intense glares, or locking you between the wall and him in traditional k-drama style just to see your reaction, but never going overboard because hurting you or making you uncomfortable would actually break his heart

still, he loves it so much when you start to blush and ramble all kind of things when you’re stunned, breaking out into his signature bunny-like smile once he can‘t hold back anymore

and like chan, he would be super patient with you, giving you the space you need until your comfortable around him, not minding at all

seo changbin:

i can see him throwing around endless jokes just to see you getting all shy

he’ll also flex his muscles right in front of you just to see your signature blush

but besides that, even tho he doesn’t really want to admit this, the fact that you’re shy makes him kinda shy too so it might be a bit awkward at first

but the more you open up to each other, the more comfortable you get around each other and the more confident the two of you get

will definitely gently hold your hand anytime ( if you’re okay with it) and loves the time he spends with you nevertheless

hwang hyunjin

he probably wouldn’t quite know how to handle it at first, leading to a lot of awkward laughs

but over time, he’ll grow used to it and takes his time to get to know you as good as he can, letting you get comfortable around him, inviting you to various activities with him like drawing, galleries, random walks, etc…

that is when he’ll start to give you lots of heartfelt compliments, showing how much he appreciates you and helping you to get more confident in your own skin

overall he’ll be so gentle and loving at all times, aware to not hurt your feelings, but still trying to help you grow in the best way possible

han jisung

at first so.many.awkward.silences.

han is still an introvert at heart, so at first he’d don’t know what to do, a lot of doubts about himself rising up, buy when he realizes that it is just how you are, he’ll step up and warm up rather quickly

he’ll start talking non-stop over things he likes, asking you lots of questions while he’s at it to include you too

tries to make you laugh all the time, secretly loves how cute you look when you’re shy and get that little blush on your cheeks

but be ready to fight over who has to order or call people because that is something you’d both despise

lee felix

he’d be so gentle with you. seriously. he would act like you’re about to break any second

he’d immediately notice when you’re uncomfortable, not shying away from speaking up for you when you are and is just constantly making sure you’re okay

“everything alright, love?” // “anything on your mind, you look like something is off?” // “should i speak to them for you?”

in conclusion he will not let anyone make you uncomfortable, including himself, so he always watches your reactions and makes sure to never overstep your boundaries ever <3

kim seungmin

he can be such a menace,, exactly knowing how to push your buttons and thoroughly enjoying when you get all shy and will never stop teasing you

he also loves to take your shyness to his advantage, knowing you love to bury your flushed face in his neck and cuddle into him in embarrassment, so he basically can get affection without actually having to ask for it ;)

but like the others,, he’ll never hurt you, he knows when to stop and won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with

being at public places will also contain a lot of teasing, especially when it comes to ordering something, but in the end he’ll order for you and get you everything you want because he’s a sucker for you

yang jeongin

probably starts to giggle every time you visibly get shy over something, causing him to blush a bit himself

with him there always be a very fine line between him teasing and pushing you a bit out of your comfort zone and him getting shy too,,,but that actually makes it more easy for you to get comfortable, seeing that he can get all blushy and all over the place too

the relationship would therefore be pretty balanced, the two of you respecting each other’s boundaries but also growing together too, maybe even setting small challenges to achieve from time to time to get a bit more confident

but in the end, dates would mostly end up in quiet places or just at home, where the two of you are all in private and comfortable without a soul (be aware of incidents with the other boys tho) interrupting you

masterlist