#HE WOULD BE SO GENTLE AND SOFT

[miraclecherryblossomsblog]

I’m so sorry to hear you’re suffering mentally n physically rn hermana :c

I hope you know you are loved (by me especially) and that the bad feelings will pass.

I think I may have experienced the tummy depression too btw.

Just want you to know you aren’t alone. I’ve been struggling mentally today too.

We’re in this together tho 💗💗💗. Sending you all of my love n cuddles from far away 🫂💋💋💋.

Also

I want you to know that Miguel would take care of u. He knows all too well this deep sinking feeling in his gut. Like being sick because you’re head is so heavy with thoughts.

He knows pain like this can happen sometimes but he wishes with every fiber of his being that he could take it away from you.

Being the guy he is, knowing how important canon events are, he understands that sometimes these feelings just happen and maybe are meant to. He wouldn’t try to force you into feeling better if you weren’t ready. He would simply be there by your side to support you until you’re able to feel that special warmth again.

He would hold you, murmur softly to you, offer his condolences for your pains with his silence as he pulls you closer.

Anything you ask for, he is willing to get for you, to help ease you through this painful time. He will be there to both literally and metaphorically hold your hand. He will make sure that the depression doesn’t cause you to wither away.

You mean too much to him, and he’s already lost enough.

You are his shining light in a world of darkness, amiga. And when you start to flicker, know that he will never abandon you.

He has faith in you. He believes time will do what it needs to heal you. And he loves you, with his everything.

💜💜💜

Lo amo tanto QwQ 💘💕💕

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

there was no place in nature we could meet ; suguru geto

synopsis; it’s never fun to run into an ex; especially when the ex in question is your unfairly handsome high school sweetheart. and just so happens to also be a wanted mass murderer.

word count; 3.3k

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, geto-typical angst, exes to [redacted], lots of longing, geto is kind of a cunt but also disgustingly charming, reader is understandably upset, biblical imagery (i just think he’s so serpent coded), curse user geto is his own warning tbh

a/n; i wanted this to be a drabble so bad but it ended up just a little too long for me to get away w it so … :’3 yeah. i hate suguru geto (said w affection)

the moon is out.

in the shadows of the street corner you find yourself in, seated comfortably on the sidewalk, it’s a welcome distraction. something to look at, in the midst of your loneliness; the evanescent glow of the moon, illuminating your solitude.

a solitude soon to be broken. shattered into pieces, battered and bruised beyond recognition, jagged shards littering the asphalt. digging into the soles of your shoes.

”hey.”

for a second, you think you must be dreaming.

the figure obscuring the light of the lamp post in front of you is familiar. too familiar, a little too dear for your liking. as you grasp your shitty cup ramen, seeking the warmth seeping through the polystyrene, all you can do is stare. blinking dumbly, drowsily.

geto looks something like a bad omen.

sharp facial features, even sharper eyes. so dark they almost shift from an amber-tainted cedar into an obsidian black — two abysses, staring into your soul, beckoning you closer. they were always enchanting, but now you think they look almost hypnotizing. not at all in a good way. dark hair frames his face, cascading down his back, longer than you remember it being. and he’s wearing robes.

still has those fucked up bangs, though. of all the things to keep.

the gears of your mind turn, endlessly, untangling the mess of thoughts inside your brain. ensuring you that no, you are not hallucinating, and no, you didn’t fall into a deep slumber somewhere between the moment you exited the convenience store and sat down by one of tokyo’s empty street corners. this is real. a reality you can’t comprehend, can’t even begin to process.

what stands in front of you is a ghost. but ghosts don’t exist, can’t be seen, can’t touch the living.

(so how is he able to haunt you like this?)

what eventually jolts you out of your silent stupor is not the questioning tilt of his head, nor the suffocating sensation of your heart crawling up your throat, but the feeling of soft fur against your leg. the stray cat you met further down the street meows at you, sweetly, trying to get your attention. you think she must be asking for more grilled fish.

so, completely ignoring the apparition in front of you, you turn to reach for the little plastic bag you bought as a midnight snack — digging out a bit of fish for the kitty to enjoy. she seems happy, settling down by your feet. purring softly.

geto watches, eerily silent. 

(maybe he’s upset that you’re ruining his dramatic entrance. you hope so.)

finally, you have no choice but to look at him. a lump forms in the back of your throat, clogging up a little more for every second spent falling into the trap he’s laid out for you, trailing over his moonlit features with your tired gaze.

mouth full of noodles, staring holes into his attire, you narrow your eyes. suddenly disgruntled.

his lips quirk up. ”something the matter?” he asks, and you can’t even begin to describe how much you hate his voice. how devastatingly deep it is, during the late hours of the night, even deeper than it was back in high school. 

slurping up the soggy noodles, you lean back a little, licking some broth off your lips. finally meeting those abyssal eyes. 

”… i was gonna say those robes look like shit on you,” comes an exhale, weary, ”but you actually kinda pull them off. that’s…” 

a beat. you struggle to find the right word. 

”annoying.”

geto’s lips curl up, smoothly, and you find a hint of familiar amusement in the vague crinkle of his eyes. barely visible crows’ feet. then he’s moving — plopping down right beside you, robes fluttering with the breeze.

”well, thank you.” he hums; crossing his legs.

the silence that festers around you is odd. not quite suffocating, nor especially fragile. definitely not comforting. it’s familiar, yet different, and it hurts a bit more than it should. but you choose to look at him, out of the corner of your eye, and he looks right back at you. still smiling that eerie smile.

when your eyes settle on the particular cloth wrapped around his torso, you just barely manage to bite back a taunting chuckle.

”a gojo-kesa, huh?” you grin, and geto doesn’t flinch. he doesn’t miss the meaningful glint in your eyes, either. ”you miss him that much?”

”just a coincidence,” is all he answers. smiling, but you think it looks a little stiff.

your grin widens, for a second, before settling back down. a sad transition. you let it go. 

”whatever you say, geto.”

at that, he visibly reacts. barely noticeable, but it’s there — a twitch of his lithe fingers, an unknown something that flickers through the scope of his iris. when he looks at you, a neutral smile is playing at his lips. 

”ah. i take it we’re not on first name basis anymore, then?” he asks, casually, hiding a tinge of something mildly displeased.

a shrug. you pick at what’s left of your ramen with your chopsticks, a little too nauseous to enjoy it. ”call me what you want. i just don’t see suguru when i look at you, y’know?” leaning forward, you begin to pet the kitty by your feet. ”he was sweeter.”

geto smiles. almost a grin, but not quite there. a chuckle spills out from his lips, and something about it irritates you. ”was he?”

”yeah,” you nod. without hesitation. a summer-stained memory blooms behind your eyelids, but you try not to look at it. all you catch is a glimpse of cherry blossoms. ”you just seem bitter.” 

the grin that finds its way onto your lips is self-deprecating. a shadow falls over your face.

”guess we’re in the same boat, huh?”

a hum buzzes in his throat. he casts a meaningful glance towards your hand, scratching behind the cat’s ear. ”oh, i don’t know about that.” his smile grows with the drawl. ”.. you seem just as sweet as always.”

to your grave annoyance, you can’t control the way your face changes at his words. a twitch of your lips gives away your discontentment, and something sour settles on the tip of your tongue.

(your blood begins to boil, beneath your skin.)

geto sighs, suddenly, filling the tense silence between you — a little theatrical. ”ah, but that’s a shame.” he turns to you, soft pout playing at his lips. ”i was hoping i could hear you call me suguru again…”

”— i was hoping you’d come back.”

a beat.

somewhere outside your vision, a crow takes flight into the night sky. swallowed by darkness, melting into that sea of black. no longer perceivable, by you or the world.

”but you never did,” the polystyrene of the plastic cup crinkles beneath your fingers. your eyes look dull. ”so what the fuck do you want, exactly?”

…

”i heard.” geto rests his jaw on the heel of his palm, gazing at you with those piercing eyes. like he’s trying to see inside your brain. ”… about your decision.”

”ah,” a grin splits across the curve of your lips, showing off the white of your teeth. ”of course. that’s what this is about, huh?”

with groggy movements, you throw away your nearly-empty cup of noodles, haphazardly aiming towards a trash can across the street. it bounces off the steel cover, landing on the ground with a soft thud. leftover broth spilling out across the pavement. geto doesn’t bother to hide his amusement, lips twitching upwards before he sends a curse to eat it from the asphalt.

you furrow your brows in embarrassed annoyance.

a moment passes, and something in you knows that he’s waiting. it’s like you can practically sense it, like it’s etched into your bones. the same way you always knew exactly when he would begin to get impatient during your nightly convenience store runs back in high school — after you had spent about ten solid minutes struggling to decide what kind of chips you wanted. 

”what can i say?” you lean back, palms against rough concrete, breathing in the midnight air. ”you inspired me.”

geto tilts his head. smiling. always, always smiling. he smiled at you the day before he massacred that village, too. ”oh?”

with a deep breath, cool air courses through your body. burning your lungs. ”i realized being a sorcerer is completely fucking meaningless,” you exhale through your nose. ”and that trying to change that fact is even more meaningless.” 

a wicked, rueful grin rests on your lips. ”so i left.”

geto doesn’t say anything. you continue, voice dripping with venom.

”i’m a civilian now,” you purr, mocking, a sardonic coo on your tongue. ”does that bother you? feel like killing me?”

…

his smile looks a little off, now. tilted in a direction you don’t want to recognize. you don’t care to examine it further, don’t care to figure out if it might look just a little bit sad, because that’d only hurt more.

so you look away.

a click of his tongue. then he speaks, with that honeyed voice, raspy and husky. almost a groan. ”well, i can’t say i approve.”

he’s looking at you. sharp eyes digging into your skin, dissecting you, a million words he expects you to grasp from that look alone.

”you’re better than them,” he states, matter-of-factly, and you try not to squirm when his eyes trail over your features. ”worlds better.” his voice sounds almost motherly, a twisted concern that makes you cower a little. like he’s scolding you. a crease between his brows.

”i don’t like the thought of you surrounded by these animals.”

a huff pushes past your lips, but it sounds shakier than you’d like it to. you hope he just chalks it up to the chill of the air. then again, when has he ever made anything easy for you?

”what, you got a problem with cats now?” you reach for the little furball licking grilled fish off the concrete, picking it up. cradling it close. ”gonna go on a cat-killing spree?”

an amused exhale. geto narrows his eyes. ”funny,” he hums, but his eyes say you know what i mean.

it takes you a moment to regain control over your breathing. there’s still something tense in your shoulders, and your heart still feels a little like it might jump out of your throat and crawl into his lap. the stray cat slips from your grasp, moving towards geto, curiously sniffing at his robes. he looks at it with no ill intent, and it puts you at ease.

”well, i appreciate the concern, buddy,” you pat his back, trying not to flinch at the contact. trying to appear relaxed. ”but frankly, i don’t give a shit. i actually like my job, unlike literally every single sorcerer on planet earth.”

geto stills.

”.. buddy?” he echoes, ignoring every other bitter word you just graced him with. for some reason, he actually seems visibly bothered. ”i’m buddy now?”

you click your tongue. muttering, tiredly. a little exasperated. ”.. what else would you be?”

and then he smiles, again. only this time, it looks oddly genuine. the same as you remember, framed by cherry blossoms and the fizzle of youth.

his movements are smooth. like he’s completely unguarded, like this situation doesn’t bother him in the slightest. elegant, in the way he leans back, palms on the concrete to support his weight. keeping eye contact with you, all the while.

when he speaks, his voice has a sweet tinge to it. nostalgic, maybe. wistful. if you hear a touch of longing, you choose to ignore it.

”i seem to recall you calling me baby quite a lot,” he hums, and you stiffen. gritting your teeth. eyes darkening, but he continues. ”what else was there? angel, i think… it was sweet.”

then he’s leaning forward. scratching the cat under its chin, gently. ”ironic, though.”

an inhale. then, an exhale. they’re a little shaky, a little meek, but at least they make the lump in your throat feel less like it’s blocking your windpipe. air fills your lungs, but it tastes like nothing at all. 

something like sorrow simmers in your eyes. or maybe more like fatigue. god, you really want to cry.

(you wonder if he gets some sickening satisfaction out of seeing you like this, out of breaking you. maybe it just makes him feel rotten. you don’t know what you’d prefer.)

”suguru,” you murmur, at last. voice dripping with exhaustion. defeated, the sigh that flows from your lips. ”why did you come here?”

…

”join me.”

the words spill out into the open air, slicing the silence in half. heavy. a request, not a question. against your better judgement, you turn your head to meet his gaze.

”we could use you,” he says, and there’s hope in those keen eyes. he maintains his distance, but for some reason you still feel like prey being sized up by a predator. like he’s weighing your value.

a chuckle slips from your lips, but there’s no humour to it. ”use me…” you echo, a tired murmur under your breath. ”you're just straight up admitting it, huh? kinda refreshing.”

”that’s not what i meant.”

he inches closer. slowly, as if trying not to scare you. reaching out, to brush through your bangs, his fingertips ghosting over your skin. tangling them between your locks, inserting himself into your space. testing the waters. 

you don’t look at him, completely still. barely breathing. like a wounded animal.

”i want you there,” he says, and it comes out almost as a whisper. ”with us.”

unable to resist the temptation, you indulge in a single brief glance his way. his eyes look warm, and his lips look soft as they part.

”with me.” 

there’s a devotion to his voice when he continues, one he’s always had. one you thought you’d always be able to trust. ”i’ll create a world where you can be happy,” he vows. ”i swear it.”

a moment passes.

(you swallow thickly. it takes everything you have not to burst into tears. when you remember how he brushed you off, back then, it gets a little easier. when you remember all the skipped meals.)

”.. like you give a damn.”

geto smiles. you loathe how soft it looks, how similar it is to the one suguru always had. when you used to eat your ramen too quickly and started choking on it, and he brought a palm to your upper back, patting it gently. he’d chuckle, and tell you to slow down, and the softness of his smile would almost be enough to distract you from the amusement in his eyes. 

”my love.”

you flinch. breath drawing back at the base of your throat, heart screeching to a halt, and some part of you emerges; the shy, sweet kid you used to be. hanging on to his every world. like he was your sun, your guiding light. back when that purr of my love had you blushing furiously, not choking back a string of curses.

it’s sudden, and you can’t react the way you want to. you want to kill him for calling you that. for thinking he has any right to call you his, anymore.

but that sweet, naive, innocent little kid still exists. even if you want to pretend otherwise. it’s there, somewhere, that part of you — peeking out from behind the curtain. and it stops you from saying anything that might hurt him.

(it’s so hard to hate him when he calls you that.)

if geto notices your inner turmoil — he must — then he doesn’t mention it. you don’t say anything, but you hope the amused, harsh exhale you partake in is signal enough for him to cut it off. now.

yet he continues. there’s love in his voice when he speaks, barely contained. if he’s trying not to hurt you he’s doing an awful job.

”… i never stopped thinking of you,” he whispers, so low you almost miss it. ”not once. i left for you, not just for myself.”

and, despite every part of your being resisting it, a sweetness settles on your tongue. so sweet it’s sickening; the thought that maybe he’s telling the truth, maybe he really has been thinking of you. maybe you’re more to him than just a means to meet an end, or a memory yet to be buried.

geto looks at the moon. bathed in moonlight, he looks a little like a god. like something reverent. his voice is honeyed. low, like a secret.

”this world doesn't deserve you.”

silence.

a subtle anger trickles through your veins, a kind of fury, subdued, carefully tucked away. sparking to life inside the depths of your eyes when you look at him. bitter, given everything. but your voice still comes out sounding something like a plea.

”and you think you do?”

another smile. this time, it looks a little sad. remorseful, maybe. ”… let me prove myself.”

his touch burns. the pads of his fingers against your cold skin, cupping your cheek. slithering down to grasp your hand. and you’re pliant, unable to react. just sitting with that aching hollow feeling in your chest.

”i wasn’t worthy, back then,” he hums, bringing your hand to his lips. ”but now…”

a kiss to your knuckle. featherlight. reverent. you try not to shiver, but when he says your name, dragging each syllable out, like they belong on his tongue —

a chill runs down your spine.

when he speaks, you feel his warm breath on your skin. it’s dizzying. ”i’m not the same suguru you once knew,” he admits, a forlorn look in his eyes. and devotion, frighteningly sincere. ”unlike him — i’ll never let you go.”

what a twisted desire. he wants to take you with him, drag you down to hell. the suguru you knew wouldn’t put you through that. but maybe you’re even more twisted, for wishing he had; for wishing he had taken you with him, ten years ago, instead of leaving without a single goodbye.

geto’s voice is soft. coaxing, like he's handling a frightened mouse. join me, he whispers, and you think of eve. when you look at his mouth you think you see serpents’ teeth behind his lips.

(you're almost sure he notices it. and you're almost sure his smile widens, lips curling up, as if preparing to open his maw and swallow you whole.)

a sickening sense of resignation roots itself somewhere in your gut. 

you pull your hand away, and he lets you. the loss of warmth hits you like a freight train, but you aren’t sure you could think clearly with his skin on yours. when you part your lips to speak, only air comes out, just barely forming a sentence. like there are no more words to say. like the world stopped spinning around you both a lifetime ago.

”i don't love you.”

…

for just a second, his smile falters. 

”no?” he hums, and you wish it didn’t hurt so bad to see him hurt. his eyes carry a kind of patience, something gentle. ”it’s fine… these things take time.”

a bitter chuckle. ”like you’d know anything about waiting,” you spit, and it comes out sounding venomous. a phantom ache sprouts in the spot where his lips touched your skin.

geto closes his eyes.

”you don't need to love me,” he says, finally. kind. you hate that he still sounds so kind. so understanding, like nothing you do could be wrong in his eyes. ”as long as you're beside me, that's enough.” 

he turns to look at you, and his smile looks very real, for a moment. impossibly fond. ”i have two daughters. i’ve told them about you,” he smiles. ”my family… you’d like them. i know they’d like you.”

dark clouds cover the moon, suddenly, and a shadow falls across you both. illuminated only by the streetlight. in the distance, you hear a car whooshing by.

”don’t stay at the bottom,” he beckons, and your name slips from his lips again. soft, his tongue bending around the vowels. coaxing. stirring your heartstrings like a puppeteer.

then he’s standing up, dusting off his robes, large hands smoothing down the fabric. turning around, towering over you; obscuring everything else. all you see is him, under the glow of the lamp post. a halo of artificial light.

”come. let me show you the world we can create.”

he gives you a sweet smile, two abysses gazing into you. the promise of something twisted, new, forbidden. you think of red skin and yellow flesh; the bite of sin.

and for a second, you see it. the world. a world where laughter comes from the bottom of your gut, and the trees are always ripe for picking, red apples hanging from the branches like glowing rubies. a world where sweetened fruit never give way to rot.

paradise.

geto stretches a hand out towards you. fingers unfurling, one by one, like a blooming camellia. close, right there in front of you, so close that you’re tempted to take his hand in yours, let him carry you away. burn everything else to the ground. 

(you think of the serpent. you think of god.

only one of them banished eve.)

”so,” he smiles. ”what do you say?”

[puppyeared]

Pokeymon

@ask-willowleafeon @ask-shiny-umbreon

[p4nishers]

i just love how soft crowley is with muriel and how he answers ALL of their questions without hesitation and no matter how afraid or furious he is at jimbriel he never fails to answer one of his questions bc at the end of the day he knows what it's like to have your questions go unanswered and he'd just never do that anyone. not like some fucking people.

[willowser]

aww you know, i actually really do like the idea of double boy dad bakugou 🥺

your first son being a little angel and you and katsuki are both perfectly satisfied, and then maybe another bug comes as a surprise a few years later and he turns out to be a heinous little menace — and katsuki didn't think he'd love having a brat of a child so much 🥺

[bluehairperson]

Sometimes I see posts about how "I, Strahd" Tatyana has the personality of a cardboard but I don't think I agree honestly.

We only see her in very few scenes (all from Strahd's POV) and she's always very gentle and soft spoken.

Which makes completely sense since she was a lowborn orphan trying to make a good impression on her future brother in law, who is not only the ruler of the valley but also a feared war criminal. Of course she would try to be as nice as possible in front of him.

I also think that Strahd was extremely genuine in thinking he was in love with Tatyana, it's just that he never really knew her the way Sergei did. He only knew a facet.

[bruciemilf]

Such a slut for Bruce calling his kids pet names regardless of where they are. He called a fully grown Dick his baby on TV. He called Jason sweetheart while they were Batman and Red Hood. He called Tim honey in a meeting. He called Cass princess at ballet practice. He called Damian habibi in front of the League. I mean, who’s gonna stop him? The media loves that shit, criminals and goons are too afraid of Batman and Red Hood to do anything, the executives value their jobs too much, the single mothers love a dilf and the League know better than to fuck with Bruce and Damian.

If you're a slut for that, I'm the whole damn whorehouse - ENDEARMENTS FOR FAMILY MEMBERS MY BELOVED,,, no no no because this feels me with warmth your mind is SOOOOOO HUGE

Omg Dick would be so flustered because you just KNOW the others tease him endlessly by ONLY referring to him as " baby" for a month straight. The titans too. He cannot escape it

I have a feeling that Jason and Damian would pull the " knock it off, Im too old for that!" card, but Bruce couldn't give two fucks bc he knows they secretly love it; especially damian who's so moved and touched by being called someone's 'love'

- him, not a monster but not a child; not darkness but not light. Bruce quickly shots that shit down and FIERCELY argues that Damian is love because he's strong.

Duke is pumpkin and stephanie is lovebug, he told me specifically- also the league can't say shit bc it's so adorable to witness. I bet they're happy to know there's a heart inside that suit

[storytellering]

Pastel Nero 🍬

[blaithnne]

my timephoon hot take is that the episode was literally fine, it's the episodes that came AFTER it that fucked things up

[akaikami-cherryblossom]

Citron’s hugs look so comfy bro I want one

[nighttimeaboardthepearl]

characters who usually appear dominant and intimidating on the outside/in public but are super gentle with their partner or even enjoy being submissive for them in private 🤝 characters who appear calm and shy in public but enjoy showing their more dominant side to their partner only

[thisisadonaldduckblognow]

if i had to stop at only one headcanon about casey jr and future raph ever its that middle ground where casey did know him just when he was younger so the vibe is 

someone asks about future raph at some point and with ALL the same reverence of talking about greatest ninjas greatest inventors mystic masters amazing commanders and their big heroic battles etc etc casey is just like “he called me little snapper bc when i first met him i was like 3 and i tried to bite him. when i was 7 he looped a rope around his arm and stood there with it held out for hours so i could play on a swing. he was my best friend.”

[fist-amidst-the-hands]

hi hi okay imagine. stede wants to brush out ed's hair the way izzy always does. maybe izzy is busy on deck taking note of damages after a raid. maybe they had an infestation and he's going over ration spoilage and inventory with roach. ed is tired and cranky and absentmindedly separating sections of curls and tugging them apart at the bottom where they get stuck together in knots. stede offers to help with the tangles, says he would love to give it a go and help ed relax

izzy walks in a few minutes later and immediately comes up and tells stede he's doing it all wrong but also gently takes the brush from him and shows him the right way - where to hold the hair, how to start at the bottom with little sections and work his way up, when to start with his fingers instead of the brush. neither of them can see it but ed is smiling so much his face might actually burst

[thefarminggoblin]

Can’t sleep, daydreaming about a first kiss with Ukitake.

This was intended to be just a short little set of headcanons but once again turned into a whole scenario.

Picture this: spending the evening drinking tea and snacking with both Ukitake and Kyoraku (who would be drinking sake…), after an a major event like Byakuya or Kaien’s wedding by having your own little intimate celebration/after party together.

Fireflies are dancing around, the full moon is out and the gentle chirping of crickets and other insects accompany everyone’s laughter as Ukitake wins yet another round of Shogi - making Kyoraku pout. It’s been a good day for Ukitake, not a single cough or feeling of unease, so he intends to make the most out of every second.

Kyoraku stands and stretches, yawning loudly, “Well, that’s probably enough for me tonight. I’ve got work to do in the world of the living tomorrow, so I can’t really risk a hangover.”

You smirk, “You’re not leaving because you’re sore about losing are you?”

He chuckles, “Naaaah. Lisa will have my head if I stay too much longer. I don’t want to risk being scolded.” He smirks, a twinkle of mischief in his eye, “Plus the eyes you two have been making at each other all night is starting to make me feel a little intrusive.”

Ukitake chokes on his tea, spluttering and coughing as you feel your face heat up, even as you quickly move to his side to rub his back, hoping this hasn’t triggered a coughing fit, “What do you mean “eyes your two are making?!” What eyes?!”

He laughs loudly, “I’ll leave you two alone to figure it out. Goodnight!” And then he’s gone, disappearing right in front of you as he uses his shunpo to leave.

Once Ukitake has recovered, he straightens himself up and takes a sip of tea to clear his throat, a wry expression on his face, “Cheeky bastard.”

You laugh, “Has he always been so shameless?”

He sets the cup down and huffs a laugh, “In our academy days, yes. But he’s never really teased me so brazenly over…” he shakes his head, taking another sip of his tea.

Your heart quickens, and suddenly you are keenly aware of how closely to two of you are sitting.

“Over…?” You have a feeling that the two of you would eventually have this conversation - you’d been flirting with each other over the past few months, mostly just lingering gazes during meetings, lingering touches when you pass things to each other, and more compliments than usual on each other’s appearances that could be interpreted as mere friendship. Today was no exception: you’d sat next to him the entire evening at the wedding celebration, and over the course of the night the two of you had gravitated towards each other, your sides eventually touching. And neither of you had made to move away or mention it. And as he helped you stand up - ever the gentleman - he did not let go of your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles, and looked as though he was about to say something. Then Kyoraku had appeared suddenly from out of nowhere and suggested you continue the celebration together. You didn’t miss his shoulders slumping over in obvious disappointment as he let go of your hand and lead the way to his quarters.

Now, the soft light from the fireflies and the moon illuminates his handsome face. You notice that his cheeks have darkened noticeably as he turns to face you. His gaze seems a little conflicted as his lips are drawn in a thin line. That same expression from earlier, but more determined.

With a soft sigh, he takes your hand in his and gives you a small smile, “Is it not obvious?”

You move a little closer to him, your eyes searching his face, “Maybe, maybe not.”

His face moves even closer to yours, his eyes half lidded and glancing rapidly between your eyes and lips. His lips are mere inches away from your own he whispers, “Allow me to make things a little clearer for you, then…”

He closes the short distance between you and delicately brushes his lips across yours, enough for it to barely be considered a kiss - it’s like he’s gauging your reaction, preparing to pull away if he senses the slightest amount of discomfort. When you don’t pull away, he pushes his lips against yours ever so gently and brings a hand up to brush his knuckles against your cheek, so soft it feels like a butterfly has landed on your face.

It would be such a slow, tender, intimate kiss. With him gently and rhythmically guiding your movements. It wouldn’t get too heated. It would be one of those kisses that makes your heart ache with longing, but neither of you would want to ruin the sweet and tender moment by giving in to your baser instincts. It would be more about intimacy and being close to each other.

It would turn into an opened mouth kiss and there would be tongues involved - because intimacy and being as close as possible to you is a huge thing for him and he wouldn’t be able to help himself - but only very fleetingly. The second your lips shift to openly glide over each other’s, he’d shakily sigh into your mouth, maybe even whisper your name.

He would only really swipe his tongue over your lips as he moves. Not venturing too deeply, nothing too tame, but somewhere right in the middle. He’d alternate between caressing and cupping your face with one hand to gently cupping the back your neck and slowly stroking your hairline. The other hand would be splayed across the small of your back. He wouldn’t be forceful at all. His hands wouldn’t be pulling you in; it would be more like he’s wanting to enjoy and appreciate the feel of your skin/body against his. Just relishing the intimacy of the moment.

It wouldn’t be a short affair. He wants to take his time with you, and his sweet yet sensual kisses are addicting. Ukitake would slowly glide his lips over yours, letting out little sighs, gasps, tiny moans and even some breathy chuckles if you decide to playfully tease him by giving him soft pecks, retaliating by kissing the corner of your mouth occasionally.

He’d eventually pull away with a shuddering breath before pressing gentle kisses to your cheek, overcome with emotion. He’d kiss the tip of your nose and forehead before resting his forehead on yours, nuzzling your noses together.

If you cup his face, he’d nuzzle into it and kiss your palm, then take your hand in his and kiss down to your wrist before intertwining your fingers with his.

There’s be no words after. There would be no need. Just gentle gazes, smiles and touches. It’s pretty clear that you both feel the same. He’d eventually move you around to sit in front of him with your back against his chest and him holding you from behind, alternating between slowly running his hands up and down your arms, wrapping his own around your waist and taking your hands and intertwining them as you watch the fireflies together, enjoying each other’s presence. He’d occasionally press kisses to the top of your head, and if you lean back and rest your head on his shoulder, he’d kiss your temple too.

He’d walk you back to your room, and kiss you goodbye in the same way. Slowly. Tenderly. Longingly.

He’d kiss you on the back of the hand and give you a soft look (much like the accompanying screen cap for this post), his soft brown eyes shining with happiness, before saying a simple “goodnight” and using his shunpo to leave.

Your lips tingle for hours afterwards, your heart still racing, wondering if he, too, is laying awake, overcome with emotion.

And you’d be right.

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

THE WAY HE LOOKS AT HER 😍🥰❤️😍🥰❤️😍🥰❤️

[gunkbaby]

the creature is autistic