#the first thing i think when i see that haircut is: pretty!!!!

[nana-au]

Best Friends Forever!

Suguru Geto ♡

MDNI

₊˚ପ⊹ Summary: You’re Suguru’s bff and roommate. You know him like the back of your hand – and he knows you the same, if not better! Some people may think you two are too close, but they just don’t understand. When you have a date planned and need help picking out your outfit, Suguru’s your guy! ...What’s this? He doesn’t want you to leave?

₊˚ପ⊹ Warnings: minor mention of blood, mention of pet death, possessiveness, jealousy, nipple play, thigh riding, fingering, making you beg, overstimulation, unprotected sex

₊˚ପ⊹ an: kicking and screaming and crying and throwing up and scratching my face I NEED HIM.

₊˚ପ⊹ wc: 2.8k

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

BFF! Sugu who’s been by your side since before you can even remember! You grew up neighbors and when you both went off to college you got an apartment off campus together. It was only natural to be with Suguru. He was the only constant in your life – your anchor. 

BFF! Sugu who is so protective of you. How could he not? You two experienced life’s firsts together. You were there when Suguru took a nasty spill off his bike. His tears were hot down his face as you stayed by his side. You used the water bottle you kept on your own bike to flush the blood off his knee, giving it a quick peck. “My mom always says a kiss makes everything better. Do you feel better Sugu?” He nods his head, wiping the snot off of his face with his t-shirt. He was there when you lost your first pet and even though you were preteens and everyone made you feel dumb being sad over a goldfish - Geto made it a point to hold a funeral in his backyard. He dug a small grave for it - picking out the perfect rock for you to write its name on to place on top of its resting place. 

BFF! Sugu who makes sure you’re safe. He would never allow you to pump your own gas. He’s seen the type of guys who prowl around the gas station close to your home. He’ll make sure you get to sit pretty in the passenger seat while he fills up your car. Don’t worry about the price – he’ll take care of it. He always takes care of you. 

BFF! Sugu who knows everything about you. He knows all your favorites. Favorite color, favorite season, favorite food, favorite tv show… there was nothing that you liked that he was not aware of. He knows about things you wouldn’t be caught dead telling anyone else – trusting only your best friend. 

BFF! Sugu who is so so sooooo protective of you. Any guy he thought wasn’t the absolute best for you was quickly kicked to the curb. He’ll admit – sometimes the criteria was a little strict. The guy from your art class? His haircut was stupid. Shithead from your after school club? Believe him – he was a tool. Worst of all was the douche on your school’s baseball team. Suguru had quite the time getting you to see his point of view, but he didn’t dare say I told you so as you cried in his arms retelling the embarrassment of catching him cheating. 

BFF! Sugu who learns to relax in college. You were a woman now – you no longer needed his constant guidance. He would genuinely smile as you talked about all the friends you were making in your major. How funny your coworkers at the concession stand job you worked every football game were. The fact you had a date with a friend of a friend – your girl friend had vouched for him. He was a good guy. Geto was glad you had people looking out for you. He couldn’t wait to meet him. 

BFF! Sugu who helps you pick out the cute little outfits for your dates. You were so beautiful, that guy was truly lucky. But even his luck couldn’t match Suguru’s as you put on a little show for him – trying on every tantalizing option. 

BFF! Sugu who loved watching you dress up so much he bought you more. You didn’t even need a date to have a fashion show! He just loved seeing that color on you. Oh! – And don’t even get him started on the skimpy little dresses with the ruffles. They were made for you. He couldn’t decide whether your plump butt or your squishy boobs looked better hugged by the fabric. He had to use his large hand to hide the bite he gave to his bottom lip when your cute little panties peaked through the bottom of a particularly short one. “Maybe that one is good for around the house,” he proposed. 

BFF! Sugu who had to swallow his need when you begged him to rate your lingerie. “I didn’t realize you two were at that point in your relationship,” he would try to laugh off his distaste. 

“I’ve told him no to sex for so long, I’ve been thinking maybe it's time…” you trailed off. You played with the hem of your dress as you stood in front of Suguru on the couch. He was sunk comfortably into the loveseat, legs spread wide and one of his muscled arms stretching across the back of the couch. The other on the arm rest. “Ok princess. Let’s see the options,” he spoke.

BFF! Sugu who couldn’t make it through the first set. The white lace left little to the imagination, a black bow adorned above your cute mound. “You trying to make me sweat?” A dark chuckle broke through his lips. “Sorry?” you asked him, not hearing him correctly. How silly you were to think that just because he was a friend that made him any less of a man. A hot blooded man at that – with eyes that glued to your nipples visible through the thin fabric. “The dresses were one thing, princess, but this? Don’t play dumb,” his dark eyes were now impossibly black. You were staring into the voids that indiscreetly roamed your body. It was entirely silly of you to now try and hide yourself from his hungry gaze. 

BFF! Sugu who doesn’t let you leave. You were no match against his strong grip as he pulled you onto his lap. “You’re leavin’ me no choice,” he assured you, pushing you down hard against his thigh. You tried to push away but his hands on your waist locked you in. “No choice,” he reminded you. You swallowed thickly, realizing you were completely helpless as he began guiding your hips up and down his thigh. The rough material of your panties rubbing deliciously against your clit. “Sugu s-stop,” you begged him, all breathy and hot against his ear. “You want me to stop?” Of course! He was your best friend. You didn’t want him making you feel better than you ever thought possible by just rubbing your pussy against his leg. “But you look so cute like this,” he pouted at you, “Humping my thigh like a puppy. I’ll let go – but you better stop moving your hips,” he tutted at you. You didn’t have it in you to keep your eyes open to watch yourself continuously rut against him even after he removed his hands. It wasn’t your fault his muscled thigh felt more pleasurable than any toy you could ever buy. 

Geto had plenty of girls at your school talking about their experiences with him. You spent your entire teen years hearing about his ‘magical tongue’ and ‘horse dick’. For the majority of your life you had little interest in getting to experience that part of your best friend – that was until the bastard from the baseball team. The absolute snore fest he put on for your first time was jarring. Maybe you were so used to hearing how life-changing Suguru’s hips were that you had high expectations... 

No – you were not purposefully trying to get Geto to want you. He genuinely gave good advice when it came to what looked good on you. Ok so maybe you were pushing your luck with the lingerie – but Suguru was always so level-headed. It was scary how quickly he caved.

It was even more frightening listening to his taunts hot in your ear, “Why aren’t you stopping?” You couldn’t stop now – but you would. Just a little longer. You’d find the strength to stop soon. “Tell me you want me, or I’m stopping this,” he threatened and your form shook. “Please don’t,” you begged him. “Don’t what?” he lifted your chin, making you look at him “Don’t s-stop t-this,” you squeaked out.  

BFF! Sugu whose rumors were true. His tongue was magical. His hands flew down to your hips, helping you roll deliciously against the fabric of his sweats while his wet muscle was hot against your nipples. He used his teeth to pull down the fabric so he could taste your bare bud against his tongue. He suckled and licked your sensitive nipple causing your arousal to seep past the lace of your panties. You began to soak his sweatpants but he wasn’t gonna have you stopping anytime soon. He pulled your hips into tight circles against him, overwhelming your nub. His teeth nibbled at your nipple and you jerked up at the sudden shock. His grip was bruising and you wanted – no needed more. “Sugu.. more.. need more” you sounded so pathetic. 

BFF! Sugu who was left with little choice! His princess wanted more and more she was going to get. His head kissed your entrance, barely pushing in past the tip. You mewled, nails digging into his shoulders as he teased himself into you. “You think you can take me?” he asked you and you nodded fervently. He was thick and long – even his tip felt like he was tearing you in two. You wanted to be absolutely broken. “M-more Sugu,” you begged, trying to move your hips to sink down further. He kept you still – only allowing you to move if it was him dragging you down against him. Your slick was dripping down the rest of his cock, you were completely overwhelmed by the little attention he was giving you. One of his hands moved from your hips down to your clit, rubbing slow circles – barely ghosting above it. You were clenching on his fat tip and whining embarrassingly loud. He wanted to have you crying for his cock. He clicked his tongue at you, “I’m not convinced enough you want my cock.” He looked so unaffected as you shook, “I do! I need it, Sugu,” tears fell down your cheeks as you desperately tried to convince him.   

BFF! Sugu whose hips slapped against yours at a brutal pace. He had you pinned into the loveseat, head down and ass up. A creamy ring formed at the base of his unrelenting cock. Drool was seeping from your mouth and onto the couch, the only thing you could think about was the way he was pounding into that gummy spot that made you dizzy. “No one could make you feel this way,” he promised you, “this pussy was made for me.” His pace was bruising, his balls slapping against your clit. He pulled your hips up farther, making you arch your back. Everything was so noisy – the sound of you meeting his hips, the squelch of his cock pulling in and out, and his grunts each time he felt his tip kiss your cervix. Geto looooved watching you take him so well. Each time his cock disappeared inside of you, only to reappear as he roughly dragged out of you. He didn’t know if you were purposefully squeezing him each time his hips pulled back. Were you trying to keep him buried deep? “Your date won't mind if I leave my cum in you, right?” he teased you – knowing full well you wouldn’t be going anywhere after he was done with you. “Dripping out of your pussy at dinner,” you couldn’t fathom him being able to laugh right now. “What would you even tell him?” he was imagining the scene playing out in his mind, “My roommate thought I was looking a little empty. Needed to stuff me full,” His smile lazy thinking about how he was claiming you tonight. He was fucking your tight little hole deliciously, making sure you could never be satisfied by anything other than his cock. You pushed your hips into his, making sure he reached as deep as possible. “You want to cum, princess?” he picked up his pace – which you didn’t even think was possible – your tits bouncing at each thrust of his hips. You nodded, pleading for him to make you cum. “God – cum on my cock. Want t’feel you squeezin me,” the rough pad of his finger met your clit, helping your pleasure meet its peak. “I’m cumming, Sugu,” you cried out to your best friend. 

BFF! Sugu who wasn’t done with you once you came. You tried to claw at his hands on your hips, begging him to slow down. The tension in your tummy snapped, cumming undone loudly around him. He paid no mind to your pleas, “You can take more. You’re a good girl, I know you can.” He didn’t ever want to leave your snug pussy. He would fuck you all day if that’s what it took for him to feel satisfied. “Give me another, baby. Cum on my cock one more time. I know you can,” he was so filthy. You never had a guy dirty talk to you the way Geto was. He was demanding and unrelenting. It was alarming how much you enjoyed the filth leaving his lips. “How could you tell me to stop when she’s gripping me so tight – pussy doesn’t want to let go of me.” he threw his head back, “”S your fault I’m pounding you like this. I couldn't let you get away with showing me that little number.” The lingerie he was referring to was on the floor below you two, ripped into pieces from when he tore it off your body. He completely pulled out of you – leaving your pussy uncomfortably empty before flipping you over and folding you in half. He placed the back of your knees on his shoulder, wasting no time pushing himself back into you. The new angle took your breath away. His heavy frame held you down as his cock was unrelenting. When you looked down you could see his length slide in and out of you, your cute little pussy lips swallowing him whole. Your arousal coated his cock – all thick and creamy. You felt like you could pass out from the sight – not thinking it was possible to be so wet. His thumb reached down to your clit, rubbing harsh circles on it. “C’mon baby. I’m addicted to the way you squeeze my cock. Let me feel you cum again. Need it, princess,” he begged. He was slowly losing all control. You were so perfect underneath him, taking him like the good girl he always knew you were. You were wrecking him. Your sounds were so cute – choking back sobs as he fucked you to another peak. You were begging for him to cum inside you. You wanted to feel him coat your walls in his sticky juice. “Gonna pump you full,” he promised you. “Gonna feel so good stuffed full with my cum.”

BFF! Sugu who can’t stand watching his semen leak out of you. You were completely fucked out – chest heaving as you laid on the couch. Geto was still holding your legs up, trying fruitlessly to push his juices back inside of you. 

BFF! Sugu who needs to make sure you keep all of it. He didn’t even wait for you to regain your energy before his thick fingers are deep inside of you. “Can’t let a single drop go to waste,” he tells you. He curls his thick digits, pushing against the squishy spot that makes you see stars. “No more,” you breathlessly say. “Just one more. Need to make sure it all keeps,” you are completely overstimulated. The feelings of his fingers are heightened by your two orgasms – which only makes you come undone even faster. His fingers are lightening fast and your pussy sounds like it's made of water. It’s so loud and wet and you just can’t help yourself from cumming again. You’re thrashing against his unrelenting fingers, crying loud enough that your neighbors definitely hear. “That’s it. S’good for me,” he’s emotional watching you come undone so many times by his doing. You were his. His, his, his. 

BFF! Sugu who doesn’t even have to tell you to cancel your date. You couldn’t pick your head up after he was done with you. You were staying home with him – where you belonged. 

[lyxchen]

My current blorbo (Campbell Bain) and another very beloved blorbo of mine (Alex Mercer) have the same haircut!!<333

[dante-mightdie]

A small req? Wheree we're a milf and our incel son eventually joins the military (you choose if he joins the military or meets at a bar I ain't gaf) and meets Ghost, 141 whatever. He brings Ghost home to his basement room(or the 141 bb do whatever you want) and ghost is surprised n shi that we this incel momma when we com with snacks or something like 'get outta here mom you're embarrassing me Infront of my new friends!" Is our sons reaction or sum. And ghostie pookie excuses himself up to the bathroom to sloppily makeout with us 🥺

nobody look at me i’m foaming at the mouth

c/w: simon is kinda strange but in a weird sexy way, mentions of misogyny, talks of sex must no actual smut, housewife kink kinda

it’s no secret that your son is a nasty little misogynistic shit. everyone on base has had the experience of standing next to him on a night as out when he gets a drink thrown in his face by whatever girl is he was chatting to

they’d been there every time he dogs out in front of everyone when you visit him on base. watching your eyes well up when your son tells you that he doesn’t like your new haircut or dress, that you’re too old to wear stuff like that

simon tried not to judge, appearances can be deceiving. perhaps you’re not all smiles and baked goods, maybe you’re an awful mother behind the scenes. he really tried. until he found out the real reason your son treats you like shit…

“she made my dad leave. he told me after they divorced that she wasn’t giving him what he needed, that’s why he had to go and get it somewhere else.” your son finally admitted one night after going through half case of beer

simon felt his hand tighten around his bottle as your son continued to ramble about how you were always busy with shit jobs. waitressing, cleaning or retail. he spent most of his childhood never getting all the latest toys and clothes because you could never afford it, too busy catching up on late bills to make sure there was a roof over both of your heads

“she’s so selfish.”

‘fuck being non-judgmental’ simon thinks. this kid doesn’t know how lucky he is. having a such a lovely mum like you, never losing your patience with your son even when he treats you like dirt. always trying to greet him with a hug or kiss just for him to push you away. begging him to call when he’s away just so you can know your boy is safe :(

“sounds like your mad at your mum for being the one that stuck around, lad.” price buts in, shaking his head with a small laugh.

you had been a topic of discussion the night after your first visit to the base. the product of a few glasses of bourbon shared between simon and john

“did you see the new recruits mother? fuckin’ hell, if I were 10 years younger I’d be all over that.” price admitted, adjusting his hips as he leaned back in his desk chair. simon let out a small grunt of agreement, having thought about this since he first laid eyes on you

simon had come to the conclusion that you both just needed a good man in your life. your son needed a father figure that would actually stick around, he could tell by the way your son looks up to him and the captain, eager to impress them

and you. oh, you. with your sweet, simple dresses and adoring smile. simon wishes you’d smile at him like that. all that cooking that your son lets go to waste could go to him instead. you could cook his favourite dinners for him and take care of his house whilst he’s away at work, whipping the boy into shape. teaching him every thing that your sack of shit ex-husband clearly didn’t

he’d be so good to you too. he knows it’s been a while since you’ve had a man to take care of your needs. he sees the way you nearly drool as you watch him running laps around the field, tatted arms on display. he’d spit you open so nicely on his cock and he knows you’d take him so well too, your pretty cunt would he creaming all over him

he soon takes advantage of this knowledge, subtly convincing your son to invite him over to your home on leave. dropping some story about how his flat is getting some work done and that he only lives 20 minutes from you both. your son was quick to offer the lieutenant a place to stay, telling him that he could take your room. that you could sleep on the couch for a couple weeks.

‘we’ll share the bed.’ simon thinks, but he doesn’t dare say it to your sons face. can’t have this little brat meddling with his plan

his arrival is clearly a surprise to you from the way you rush about shortly afterwards to start scrubbing the house top to bottom, rattling off apologies about the state of everything. simon quickly shuts down any offer of him taking your bedroom

“keep your bed, love. I’ll take the sofa.” he grumbles, sipping the tea that you made for him whilst your son rolls his eyes from the other side of the kitchen

he can see the way your eyes look at him with this longing. he knows it won’t take much to get you into bed. poor thing that hasn’t had anyone to look after her for years

he spends the next few days proving to you that he can provide. helping you carry anything heavy, drying the dishes after you’ve watched them, fixing the handy jobs around the house

you’re constantly praising him, focusing your love and attention towards him instead of your ungrateful son and the boy hates it. which is just the cherry on top, simon thinks

“your mother is so lucky to have a son like you. you must help her around the house all the time!” you coo, fidgeting with your skirt

“my mum passed away… jus’ me left out of the whole family.” simon admits, solemnly

“you poor thing, I’m so sorry. you’re welcome here anytime…” you gasp softly, placing your delicate hand on his arm and squeezing the muscle of his bicep gently and simon is ashamed to say it made his cock twitch against his thigh

“thank you, sweetheart… such a lovely girl, aren’t you?” he smiles behind his mask, reaching over and wrapping his arm around your waist. he pulls you against him, putting one hand over your mouth to keep you quiet as he hoists you up onto the kitchen counter

he squeezes his large frame inbetween your spread legs, leaning forward to look into your widened eyes

“been so good to me, love. taking care of me. such a good mum to your son, ya just need a good man to be a wife to, don’t you?” he says, pushing your skirt up your lap and revealing your thighs to him

he feels your thighs squeeze his waist, an aroused reaction from you. your body slumps into his with a natural submission that makes his cock ache. he lowers his hand and hooks his mask over his nose, revealing the scar running over his lip

“s’alright, darling. ‘m here to look after you now. me, you and the boy will be a nice happy family, yeah?” he says with a small smirk. leaning forward to mould his lips against yours before you can answer

he hears the little whimper you let out as you kiss him back, a little sloppy and inexperienced from years of being single, too busy with your son and work to date

but that’s okay because simon’s here now. ready to claim his family.

[joelsgreys]

weakness

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: An afternoon at Bill and Frank’s place takes one hell of an unexpected turn for you and Joel when hidden feelings start coming to the surface.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. BOSTON QZ ERA JOEL. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is in his early 50’s). mentions of reader having longer hair/her hair gets brushed, reader wears a dress, no specific mention of reader’s size, but there is a brief mention of the dress fitting loose on her, Frank is sweet and makes her feel pretty, Bill is a grump, Joel is kind of soft, hidden feelings. dashes of angst, fluff, and an abundance of Frank being an absolute angel.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY. NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 5.7k

“Can you stop fidgeting for just one second, please?” Frank scolds you lightly, bringing down the palm of his hand onto your shoulder in a small, quick slap in an attempt to get you to stop squirming. He then moves his hands back up to your hair, which is out of its usual braid and towel dried after a much, much needed wash. The sickeningly sweet scent of the floral shampoo you’d used in the shower earlier that afternoon lingers deliciously in the air around you, a refreshing and welcome change from what your hair normally smells like—grime and smoke from hours of work detail in the Boston QZ. After coming out all of the stubborn tangles that he can find, Frank then picks up a boar hairbrush and he carefully begins to run it through your locks. He starts from the roots of your hair and brings the natural bristles down, all the way through to your ends. He chuckles and says, “You know, I would be done a hell of a lot quicker if you would just sit still.”

You sigh softly, but impatiently, allowing yourself one final, uncomfortable little shuffle in the white wicker chair he has you perched on before finally giving into his request. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” you mumble You bring your knees up against your chest and exhale another small sigh. You can’t see his face, but you can picture the smug, satisfied smile on Franke’s face as he continues brushing your hair. “So, tell me again why we’re even doing this?” you question him just a minute later, as if he hasn’t already explained it to you about a hundred times—he wants to do something special for you. “It kind of seems like a complete waste of time, don’t you think so?”

“We’re doing this because you deserve to get dolled up for once in your adult life,” Frank states in a matter of fact tone. The world had ended when you’d been about seven years old, and he’d imagined that since then, you’d never done a single damn thing for your appearance—besides the occasional at home haircut you would give yourself every few months with an old pair of rusted shears. He’d have been absolutely right about that. “And besides, it’s something of a special occasion today,” he adds. “It’s the first day of spring. The weather outside is stunning, our flowers are finally in full bloom, and we have a nice outdoor lunch planned to celebrate the new season.”

You can’t help the way the corners of your mount turn upwards into a small smile. One might think it was all rather silly, given it was the end of the world and all, but you have to admit, you admire the way Frank manages to find genuine happiness and joy in the little things, like warm sunshine on the first day of spring. Or showing a friend what a proper hairbrush looks like. He has such a beautiful soul, something that very, very few people in this new world possess. 

“Your hair is so healthy,” Frank observes a few minutes later, setting the hairbrush aside. Taking two handfuls of your hair from the front, he twists them gently and brings them around to the back of your head. He then secures them with a clear, elastic band and runs his fingers through your soft locks, maneuvering your hair until it cascades perfectly around your shoulders. Frank walks around your chair to face you, fussing until he makes sure that every stand is neatly in place. He smiles. “You should wear your hair down more often, you know. It really suits you.”

“Long, loose hair and work detail are a recipe for disaster,” you laugh, shaking your head at him. “Most of the work sites in the zone require anyone who has longer hair to keep it tied back, anyway.” You push your legs out away from your chest and plant your feet firmly on the floor. “Listen, Frank. I really do appreciate what you’re trying to do for me. I really do,” you swear. “It’s incredibly sweet, but there’s really no point. In just a few hours, Joel and I are going to have to head back into Boston where my hair goes back into its braid and I have to change back into my normal clothes.”

“Exactly. So how about you just zip it and enjoy this while it lasts?” he suggests with a tiny, cheeky grin.

“But Frank—”

“Honey, this is a fight you simply aren’t going to win, so hush. Now, come with me.” He takes your hand, pulling you out of the chair and up to your feet. “Close your eyes,” he instructs, and with a reluctant sigh, you do as you’re told. Frank leads you over towards the full length mirror in the far corner of his and Bill’s bedroom. “Okay. One, two, three—open your eyes.”

Your eyes flutter open and your mouth parts slightly in surprise. 

“What the fuck,” you murmur underneath your breath, taken aback by the reflection in the mirror. The young woman staring back at you, she looks absolutely nothing like you. The hair, the hint of blush on your cheekbones—the color he’d found was one one that flatters the tone of your skin—and the thin coat of decades old mascara that he’d applied to your eyelashes; the tube had been bone fucking dry, but Frank used a few drops of water to bring it back to life, swearing up and down it was fine to put near your eyes. And then there was the dress, the goddamn dressed he’d force you into. His favorite part of the makeover and your least favorite. 

“Wait until you see what I found for you to wear,” he’d told you, giddy as if it were him who would be donning a new outfit. “You’re going to love it!”

Skeptical, you had asked, “Am I though?”

Frank had gone to the boutique and found you a dress to wear, and while it was just a tad loose on your frame, he insisted that it would look just fine on you with the help of a safety pin hidden at the back of it, pulling the fabric taut. It was simple enough, white with a subtle sweetheart neckline and thin straps that tied together at your shoulders. The delicate lace fell down in a flowing skirt to just a few inches above your knees and it itched like hell, especially at your sides. Wanting to add a finishing touch to the outfit, Frank had brought you a pair of brown, strappy sandals and he’d let you know that he had a couple of different color options for a cardigan in the event it became too chilly outside. 

“You look perfect,” he gushes. “Like a daydream!”

You look different. But that isn’t what brought on the shock. More than anything, you’re completely taken aback by how fucking normal you look. 

Sure, coming over to Bill and Frank’s always gave you a temporary sense of normalcy. They always allowed you to take a hot shower, gave you the opportunity  to properly wash your hair and change out of your dirty shirt into a new clean one. They always provided you with a warm meal presented on porcelain dishware that wasn’t stained or chipped like the shit you had back home in your crumbling apartment in Boston. You’d had several tastes of normal thanks to those two, but this drastic change to your appearance was overwhelming. Too overwhelming.

You’d never thought that you could look like this, not in this fucking lifetime. 

Frank immediately picks up on your emotions, senses how you’re feeling. Standing behind you, he places his two hands on your shoulders and leans his head forward, pressing his cheek against yours as his kind eyes meet your tearful gaze in the mirror. “You look absolutely beautiful,” he whispers, giving your shoulders a gentle squeeze. “I really hope you feel beautiful. You deserve it. You deserve so much more, but if I can at least give you this much, then my mission is accomplished.”

You open your mouth to speak, but words fall short. Afraid that you might burst into tears on the spot, you clamp your mouth shut and give him the tiniest little nod of your head accompanied by a quivering smile of gratitude. 

Frank smiles back. “Good. Now, come on, let’s go out front and have lunch.” His hands fall from your shoulders and he ushers you out into the hallway and towards the staircase. Looking over his shoulder, he gives you a wink. “I’m really eager to see what your man thinks of your new look.”

“What?” you sputter, almost tripping over your own two feet. “Who—you mean, Joel?”

Shit. You’d almost forgotten about Joel.

What the hell is he going to say when he sees you like this?

What’s he going to think?

Probably that you look utterly fucking ridiculous, that’s what.

“Who else would I be talking about? Bill?” Frank snorts. “Yes, I’m talking about Joel.”

You glare at his back. This isn’t the first time Frank has teased you about Joel Miller, and despite the countless times you’ve sworn to him that there was nothing going on between the two of you, he insists on believing otherwise, adamant that there has to be something more there. “Don’t start with this shit again. He is not my man, and you damn well know that.”

“He might as well be,” Frank shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly as he leads you down the staircase.

“Frank, I’m being serious,” you say. Normally, weren’t so uptight about it all, but today, you’re not finding his antics amusing in the slightest, not while you’re wearing goop on your face and sporting a fucking dress. “I’ve told you a million times that there is nothing going on between me and Joel. He’s my partner.” You pause briefly, realizing how that must have sounded, and add in emphasis, “He’s my work partner. We work together, Frank. We smuggle shit together. That’s it.”

Frank stops at the bottom of the staircase and turns to you, letting out a curious hum. “Hmm. And if I remember correctly, you two also live together, you sleep in the same bed together, you spend every waking moment from sunrise to fucking sunset together—I have never heard of two work partners being that close, sweetheart.”

Stubborn, you shake your head. “He’s like fifty!”

“The world ended and that’s your concern? An age gap?” he questions. “Really?”

“Frank,” you plead his name, groaning. “I swear it. We’re nothing to each other. Joel is—well, he’s Joel. He’s not exactly the type of man who does that. You know, feelings and shit.”

He throws his head back slightly, letting out a loud laugh that echoes through the foyer of his home. “Oh, trust me. I know that much. Between you and me, I have to say that he reminds me a whole lot of Bill,” he muses. He notices the horrified expression that crosses your face and laughs again, holding up his hands in defense. “Wait a minute, just hear me out. They’re polar opposites in some ways, but in most ways, they’re almost the same fucking person. Joel is just like Bill. Cranky. Grumpy. He hates everyone and everything. Kind of man who’ll stab someone if they so much as look at him the wrong way. Would you say that’s pretty accurate?”

“Yeah, sounds like Joel Miller,” you have to admit. As much as you did not want to think of Joel being the same person as Bill, Frank had a pretty good point.

“But Joel also reminds me of Bill because he’s the kind of man who means well when it comes to the people that he cares about. The kind of man who will do whatever it takes to protect what is his,” he further explains. He pauses and then asks, “Let me ask you something. You trust him, right?”

You don’t even miss a beat, answering, “Of course. With my life.”

He ticks his  index finger at you. “Aha! Exactly!” he exclaims. “You know that Joel would never let anyone lay so much as a finger on you. He’d never let anything bad happen to you. And why is that?”

You stare at him blankly, unsure of how to respond. “Is this a trick question?”

Huffing, Frank rolls his eyes and lets out a disappointed sigh, as if you’d missed the obvious. “It’s because you mean something to him, sweetheart. Whether you choose to let yourself believe it or not, you mean something to Joel Miller.”

For a moment, it feels like all the wind’s been knocked out of you. 

Could Frank actually be right? 

Do you actually mean something to Joel?

No, that was impossible. Joel Miller doesn’t give a shit about anyone or anything—all he cares about is surviving long enough to find Tommy again one day, and even then, he never speaks of his younger brother too kindly. He’s been hardened by this world, closed himself off, put up a barrier around himself that nothing can permeate. Not even you.

“Under that tough, rugged exterior, there’s a soft spot. It’s there, for you and only for you.” Frank’s eyes glimmer, speaking a truth he’s been wanting to tell you for the better part of the last several months. “You might need to do some digging to find it, but it’s there.”

“I just don’t understand why you would think that,” you confess, shaking your head. “Joel has never said anything to me to indicate that I mean something to him. More often than not, I find myself wondering if even considering us to be friends is too generous.” You cross your arms over your chest, growing uncomfortable under his knowing stare. “Yes, Joel looks out for me, but that’s only because we work together so well. I know my way around. He needs me, especially if he plans on getting to Tommy.”

Frank bites his bottom lip, stifling another laugh.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“Oh, sweetheart. You don’t even realize it, do you?”

Your eyebrows knit together, confused. “What? Realize what?”

“You are his weakness.”

He’d said it so simply, and yet there goes the rest of your air leaving your lungs, an invisible first driving itself right into your gut. 

“Of course Joel isn’t going to tell you how he feels about you. He’s afraid,” Frank remarks, sounding so sure as if he had been told that by Joel Miller himself.

“You’re wrong. Joel isn’t afraid of anything,” you counter in the steadiest voice you can muster. “You’re wrong, Frank.”

“He’s afraid because he knows how dangerous it is, having a weakness in the form of a person he cares about more than anything can be in a world like this.” Any trace of teasing or playfulness had disappeared from Frank’s expression. He speaks gently, but with purpose, with such seriousness that it makes your heart sink further and further down into the pits of your stomach.

When you speak again, your voice is strained, thick with emotions you’re trying so desperately to shove down. “Frank, you really need to put down the fucking romance novels.” Before he can say another word to you about it, you place a hand lightly on your stomach. “I’m really hungry. Can we go eat now? Please?”

Thankfully, he gets the hint to drop the subject.

“Of course. Come on” Frank takes your hand. He opens the front door and leads you outside and onto the freshly landscaped front lawn. He had been right, the flowers were in full bloom—the small, round table he’d set was positioned in a perfect spot so that no matter where anyone sat, they would have a view of the colorful roses and azaleas he and Bill had planted around the perimeter of the yard.

As soon as he sees you two approaching, Bill throws up his hands in a dramatic fashion. “It’s about goddamn time!” He grouches loudly. “Jesus Christ, Frank. I’m fucking starving!”

“Sorry, got caught up inside.” Frank tosses his partner a sweet smile as he releases your hand. “But look, I found myself something pretty!”

Heat floods your cheeks. You should have known better than to think he wasn’t going to make a fuss about your new appearance. “Frank, please. Don’t.”

“Oh come now, you know I have to show you off!”

Joel, whose back had been turned towards you, furrows his eyebrows and he glances over his shoulder, looking to see what Frank was referring to. His dark brown eyes widen just ever so slightly, the grip around his glass of red wine tightening in complete surprise at the sight of you. Frank had failed, quite miserably, to convince him to dress up for the occasion, but at the very least, he’d talked him into wearing one of the nicer shirts he'd found at the boutique, a neatly pressed, sage green button up with long sleeves that, much to Frank’s chagrin, Joel had rolled up to his elbows. His graying, dark brown curls  might have even had a comb run through them, but it;s  difficult to tell if the way his thick locks were effortlessly disheveled was natural or the result of his efforts to tame them.

“What do you think, Joel?” Frank beams proudly, as if presenting the man with one of his painted art pieces.

Joel doesn’t respond. His eyes remain glued on you, following as you walk around the table and take your usual place beside him.

“Way to put me on the spot, Frank,” you mutter, your face growing warmer and warmer with every second that ticks by. You silently urge yourself to get a grip as you reach for the crisp, white cloth napkin next to your plate and drape it over your lap. The smoked, wild rabbit Bill had cooked up for lunch  smells heavenly—Frank knows  it’s  your absolute favorite dish, and so he had made sure Bill put it on today’s menu, bless his heart. 

Joel still hasn’t uttered a single word. Part of you hopes he wouldn’t.

“Joel?” Frank prompts as he picks up his own cloth napkin. “Doesn’t she look pretty?”

You glare daggers at him from across the table and hiss, “Frank!”

Finally, Joel sets down his glass of wine and turns slowly, angling his body towards yours. When he speaks, his voice is low, but clear as day as he looks at you, “Yeah. She looks very pretty.”

His eyes flicker up to meet yours, causing your heart to skip a beat inside of your chest and a strange warmth to bloom in your belly. 

Had he actually meant that?

“You look real nice,” he adds, giving you a subtle nod of his head. He lets his sights linger on you for another moment before tearing his gaze away. He then turns back to the table, picking up his glass of wine once again, chugging what’s left of it before reaching for the bottle to pour himself another. 

Bill clears his throat roughly. “Well, if everyone’s done playing dress up, I’d really like to fucking eat now.”

Meals with Bill and Frank were always pleasant. 

Well, meals with Frank were always pleasant.

 Although Bill had gotten used to having you and Joel over as guests and didn’t see either of you as a threat anymore, he still preferred to keep you both at arm’s length, a choice you two respected. He hardly ever said much and often chose to let his partner do all the talking unless the conversation had anything to do with trading supplies. Only then would he step in. 

As you’d tucked into your meal of wild rabbit and garden vegetables, you could feel Joel throwing subtle glances your way every so often. It was half expected that he would, seeing as he’d never seen you like this before. He was so used to seeing you in tattered, dirty old clothes with dirt and grime caked onto your skin and in your hair. 

Surely, he must have felt like he was sitting next to a complete stranger, not his smuggling partner.

About an hour later, once everyone has finished eating, you offer to help Frank clear and clean up the table and wash the dishes. He settles for letting you help him bring everything inside, but shoos you away before you can even think about lifting another finger. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” he says, waving you away from the kitchen sink with his hands. “You and Joel are taking off in just a couple hours, so go on and get some rest,” he suggests. “Oh, by the way, we found some new books to add to the collection. Might find something you like. Go ahead and check them out.”

“But I forgot my library card at home,” you joke lamely, although it earns you a sincere laugh from your friend. You pad out of the kitchen and into the living room, straight over towards a grand oak bookshelf that is packed tightly to the brim with dozens and dozens of books of various genres. You hadn’t been all that much of a reader before, but thanks to Frank, who always sent you home with at least two or three works in your pack, reading had become one of your favorite hobbies over the last few months, a sweet little escape that took you out of your shoddy apartment in the zone and into another world. You start searching the titles for the new finds he’d mentioned. Spotting one of them, you pluck it from the shelf, a paperback titled, A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Opening it up, you begin thumbing through the pages, quickly realizing that it’s play—you’ve never read a play before. Still not convinced if it’s one you would like to take home with you, you flip back to the first page and start reading with a curious little hum. 

You had been so preoccupied with it that you hadn’t noticed Joel standing behind you, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest until he clears his throat, and asks, “Find somethin’ good?”

Startled, you whirl around, nearly dropping the book in your hands. “Jesus Christ, Joel,” you breathe out, clutching it tightly against your chest as your heart rate slows. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Not my fuckin’ fault you were too busy with your nose buried in a book,” he states, trying his hardest to fight the small smirk threatening to cross his lips. He uncrosses his arms and pushes himself away from the doorframe.

A chuckle escapes you, almost nervously, as he slowly starts walking over towards you, his brown boots heavy on the hardwood floor. He takes the book from your hands, humming as he reads the cover. “Shakespeare, huh?”

“You know Shakespeare?” you toss him a teeny, lopsided smile as you tease, “He from your time?”

Joel lightly smacks your arm with the worn paperback. “Yeah, I know Shakespeare and he was about four hundred fuckin’ years before my time, thank you very much.” He flips it over, eyes skimming the text on the back. “Had the world not gone to shit, you would’ve grown up and spent your entire middle school career being forced by English teachers to read all his shit and write essays tryin’ to interpret it all.” He hands it back over to you. “Here.”

“Sounds like a real fucking dream,” you deadpan. You glance down, running your index finger down the spine of the book. You’re trying, almost painfully, to ignore how Joel’s eyes glaze over you from head to toe. 

“Y’know, it’s kinda nice,” he remarks quietly, breaking the brief moment of silence that had fallen over the two of you. “Seein’ you like this.”

You keep your eyes fixed on the book and scoff. “What? In a dress?”

“When we’re here, you let your guard down. Ain’t always lookin’ over your shoulder. You smile a hell of a lot more.” He pauses, then adds, “You look happy here. Sure, this dress looks nice on you. Your smile looks even fuckin’ better, though.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. More than his words, it’s the genuine tone in which he had said them—you’d never even realized Joel noticed things like that. Whether you were happy or not, how often you smiled. Or didn’t smile.

You force a small chuckle. “It’s the only sense of normalcy that we get. Of course I look happy when we’re here. Because I am happy when we’re here.” Still refusing to meet his gaze, you turn around and walk over to the couch towards your pack. Opening the top, you quickly shove the book inside. 

When you hear Joel’s footsteps coming up behind you, you stiffen slightly.

“Frank, he adores the hell outta you,” Joel says. He seems to hesitate, but then continues, “You ever think of askin’ him to stay here?”

“You kidding?” You snort in response. “Bill wouldn’t allow that. Never.”

Joel’s hands go to his hips, knowing you had a point. “But you know Frank can convince him of almost anythin’, don’t you? And besides, believe it or not, Bill actually likes you. He loves Frank more than anythin’ and you make Frank happy.”

You finally turn around to face and find yourself caught off guard by how close he’s standing to you. “Joel, what exactly are you getting at?” You raise an eyebrow before playfully asking, “Are you trying to get rid of me or something, Miller?”

Joel quickly shakes his head. “Of course not. All I’m sayin’ is that—” He stops and lowers his voice, just in case Bill or Frank happen to be wandering nearby. “I like seein’ this side of you. The happy side. The normal side.” He shrugs his shoulders, the lean muscles of his upper body flexing with the movement against the smooth fabric of his shirt. “Seein’ you all cleaned up, well fed and content—” He trails off once again. “Shouldn’t be a rare occurrence, y’know? You’d clearly be better off here with them and you know that with Frank’s help, we could probably talk Bill into letting you stay.”

The second you realize he’s being serious, your smile fades.

“What? But what about you?”

“Darlin’, Frank’s good, but he’s not a goddamn miracle worker. Even if he tried, that’s not somethin’ Bill would ever go for,” Joel admits, lifting a hand and raking his fingers through his hair. “And even if he did, we’d fuckin’ kill each other by the end of the first week.”

Bill and Joel being neighbors?

Talk about a different kind of apocalypse, you think to yourself.

“I know that much,” you reply with a tiny eye roll. “What I mean is, do you honestly think that I would leave my life in Boston?”

“That ain’t no fuckin’ life—”

You hold up a hand, stopping him. “I know it’s not. But it’s my life with you, Joel.”

The rough creases on his forehead suddenly soften. That was the first time you’d ever seen that happen.

The scowl on his face wasn’t permanent after all.

“Yes, this is nice. This patch of town, this house, the running water, the food, the clothes—this is a decent life. More than decent. In this world that we’re living in, this place is heaven. But without you, all of it would mean absolutely nothing to me. I wouldn’t be happy here, not without you.”

Joel tilts his head back, shaking it lightly. “Think about what you’re sayin’ here.”

“I know what I’m saying.” Before your brain and your body can even make the connection, you find yourself taking a step towards him, shrinking the gap between your bodies even further. You glance up at him, somehow finally finding the courage to have your eyes meet his. “I refuse to leave your side, Joel. That’s never going to happen. Not if I can fucking help it. Do you understand that?”

Joel exhales the breath he’d been holding, his warm breath tickling your face.

“I mean it, Joel. We’re in this shitty ass fucking world, together. No little slice of heaven could ever get me to leave you behind, no matter how good it is,” you declare, silently wondering to yourself where the hell you were even finding the balls to confess all of this to him. “Okay?”

“You’d be safer here than in the QZ, with all that shit’s that been goin’ down—”

“I’m the safest when I’m with you, Joel. I know I am.”

You lift your hand to his face. At first, there’s minor hesitation on your part, but you will yourself to place it on his cheek. Although your touch is gentle, Joel can’t help but wince. Not because he doesn’t want you to touch him, but because it had been so fucking  long since anyone had ever touched him like that. 

Since he’d let anyone touch him like that. 

He closes his eyes and after a second or two of resisting, he finally allows himself to relax his tense muscles and he sinks  into your touch.

Joel lets himself savor the feeling of your hand on his face. His bottom lip gives a subtle tremble when you softly start to graze your thumb down along his jawline. His beard, which you often playfully tease him about now that it’s beginning to gray just like his hair, feels rough and scratchy, and yet somehow still soft underneath your fingertips.

“Hey,” you murmur, and he forces his eyes to snap open. “We’re in this together. That’s how it’s been and that’s how it’s going to stay,” you assure him. “My place is with you, Joel.”

Joel manages to speak through tight lips, his voice strained. “You really fuckin’ gotta stop talkin’ to me like that, darlin’.”

You carefully move your hand away from his face, letting it drop back down to your side. “Why?”

“‘Cause. Shit like that is dangerous.”

“Dangerous,” you repeat, almost laughing. “Of all the things—”

Then, Frank’s words from earlier come to mind.

He’s afraid because he knows how dangerous it is, having a weakness in the form of a person he cares about more than anything can be in a world like this.

Joel’s dark eyes flicker to the strap of your dress, noticing it had started sliding off your shoulder. Before he can even think to stop himself, he reaches out and pulls it up back into place, his rough, calloused fingers brushing against your smooth skin. “You’re so soft,” he murmurs under his breath. All those fucking years of working with you, even sharing a bed together, and he had no idea of what it was like to touch you.

“Joel…” 

Your heart had all but climbed up into your throat.

“Everythin’ you just said a minute ago, ‘bout not wanting to stay here without me,” he starts to say, “I know that it’s fuckin’ selfish of me, but I’m real glad you said it. ‘Cause no way in hell do I want a life without you. I know it’s wrong but—”

Placing your hands delicately on his shoulders, you lift yourself up on your toes and cut him off mid-sentence by pressing your lips softly against his. The clean scent of the soap Frank had given him to shower with fills your senses and you yearn to have more of him, you nearly ache to get a real taste of him—but your courage only went so far. Thankfully, Joel knows to take over from here. One of his arms snakes  its way around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest while the other reaches up, the warm palm of his hand pressing against your cheek. His tongue swipes lightly across your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore your mouth just a little bit further.

You eagerly grant him access, half expecting his mouth to ravage yours.

Much to your surprise, Joel remains gentle.

The way that he kisses you, the way he holds your body against his, the way his large hand—the same hand that slits throats and breaks bones—delicately cradles the side of your face like you’re made of porcelain. 

“Joel,” you nearly whimper his name when he breaks away.

His face remains just inches from yours.

“Fuck,” he mutters, leaning his forehead against yours, fighting to catch his breath. “We’ll need to get goin’ soon.”

“I know.” You nod, hoping you don’t sound as disappointed as you feel. You can sense that Joel, much like yourself, is  at war with himself over what had just happened. Not that either of you regretted it, at least you certainly don’t, but the realization that you two have just crossed a line you’ll never come back from was daunting.

Joel lifts his head, lightly pressing his lips against your forehead. He then forces himself to release you from his arms and steps back, dropping them back down at his sides. “I need to, uh, I need to go get some things from Bill. Y’know, get my pack ready before we take off.”

You nod again. “I’ll start changing and get another pack of supplies ready as well.” You pause, clearing your throat awkwardly. “Joel, about what just happened—”

He silently shakes his head before leaning down, capturing your mouth with his.

This kiss is short and quick, and when he pulls away, he says nothing. He turns on the heel of his boot and disappears, heading out to meet Bill in the garage. 

Your hand flies to your mouth, your fingers lightly touching your lips.

“Well, well, well.”

Looking over your shoulder, your throat goes dry when you see Frank standing there, hands on his hips and a knowing, smug expression on his face. 

“How long have you been standing back there?”

“Long enough.” Even from a distance, you catch the amused twinkle in his eye. “What did I tell you?”

You turn away from him, biting your lower lip.

So maybe he’d been right after all.

Maybe you were Joel’s weakness. 

But he was yours too.

[stsgluver]

synopsis. your husband still ignores the side effects of his cursed technique just so he can get a glimpse of you.

wc. 1.2k

gojo satoru was born with six eyes — a special cursed technique that allowed for an extremely precise manipulation of cursed energy, down to an atomic level. it also blessed him with a beautiful pair of ocean blue eyes that were practically glowing. you’d never seen eyes so pretty.

the drawback to this gift? the skull-splitting migraines that came with the excessive information constantly being processed by his darting eyes.

as a child, the pain was manageable. gojo didn’t have much of a hold on the technique so his weaker state meant that the migraines were subdued as less information was being absorbed. however, as he grew older and more powerful, he would find himself bed ridden for at least twenty four hours if he did not take some sort of measure to protect his eyes.

his go to method was the sunglasses, almost 100% tinted — no other person would be able to clearly see out of them, if they could see anything at all. his sight, on the other hand, so impressive that he could distinguish people and the objects around them through the levels of cursed energy radiated.

still, accidents happened. whether it be him breaking his glasses, or forgetting them as young children do, he quickly learned the drawbacks to his technique. no normal medicine could relieve the pain and no sorcerer was strong enough to either.

gojo satoru met you at fifteen years old on his first day at tokyo jujutsu high. you wore a uniform similar to shoko's but your skirt was closer to the floor than it was to your thigh. your hair was longer than most female sorcerers and tied into a plait that hung against your back. in all honesty, you appeared quite plain to him. nothing particularly stood out. not even your cursed energy was particularly strong.

but you were gorgeous. completely and utterly gorgeous. his glasses slipped slightly down his nose as he analysed you from afar and it wasn't till a slap on the shoulder from geto that he snapped out of it.

within six months of knowing one another, the two of you were dating. you picked up on his habit to forgo his glasses around you pretty quickly and you definitely didn't miss the increasing amount of discomfort that would cause him.

"why do you do that?" you asked him one time.

the two of you were on a date in the park. a picnic blanket had been laid out and satoru had bought basically every single pastry and sweet at the bakery next to the park. you'd barely managed to make it through half till the both of you had given up and opted for cloud watching, giggling as he joked that one cloud in particularly looked very similar to nanami's 'emo' haircut.

satoru turned to his side to look at you questioningly, his head resting on his hand, "do what?"

"take off your glasses," you gestured to the folded pair of black glasses by his head. "i don't have to be a doctor to realise that you're in a lot of pain right now." the longer you lay there, the less satoru was actually looking up at the sky, instead just listening to you as you pointed out shapes and animals.

you knew the toll six eyes could take on his body.

he kept his eyes screwed shut when he wasn't looking at you to ease the the pain from the intense light that was too overpowering for his splitting headache. he winced when a kid screamed too loudly or ran too close and his fingers would push against the sides of his head frustratedly. as if he thought hard enough, the pain would just go away.

his lips tilted up into a lopsided grin, "but i see you."

you twisted so that your body was parallel to his. there was a faint blush on your cheeks now but you didn't look away from his eyes. how could you? "you always see me."

"not with those stupid glasses," satoru frowned, and you think it was the most serious you had seen him since you met. "seeing you and seeing your energy are two very different things."

"you're hurting yourself," you pointed out, placing one of your hands onto his cheek to gently stroke your thumb against his skin. his shoulders relaxed slightly and he leant into your touch like it was magic. like you were some drug that numbed the pain, replacing it with a special serotonin only you could give him.

"worth it." satoru kissed your palm.

that was his only response. worth it. and he stuck to it even a decade later.

"old habits die hard, i guess," satoru tried to laugh at his poorly made joke, but only a few shakey breaths came out. you'd been home thirty minutes and he'd already been sick twice. he'd curled himself up in your shared bed not long after the second time and that was where he was when you began scolding him for his carelessness.

"you are twenty eight," you rant exasperatedly, juxtaposing your voice that is no louder than a gentle whisper, "you have three first years to be looking after right now, but no, someone wanted to go out for dinner and someone didn't want to wear their glasses, and someone-"

satoru's much larger hand squeezed yours, "don't be cruel. i do this for you, my love." his blindfold was now on (you had made him put it on as soon as you had gotten home) but you know him well enough to know he was staring up at you with those lovesick eyes that made you weak at the knees.

"i just worry," your tone eased. you had no issue looking after your husband, you never had. it wasn't his fault that he got the migraines per se. yes, he could definitely be doing more to mitigate the severity, but he was stubborn. that had never changed. "i've seen you fight special grades. i hate seeing a stupid headache hurt you so much."

"lay with me."

"you're sweaty and sick." you scrunched up your nose, eyes flicking to the en suite you'd just cleaned and back to the cold flannel on his forehead as his body temperature fluctuated.

he shook his head, placing his index finger over his lips. "shhh, i'm passed that stage. pretty please? i need you."

gojo satoru was irresponsible at the best of times. he'd been raised to believe he was invincible and had been spoiled to always get what he had wanted. there was no telling him what to do when he'd already decided an hour ago exactly what he wanted to do.

but there was something about being needed by gojo satoru. you could never say no to him. so whether it be due to his own decision to stare into the eyes of his wife during a romantic night out, or an extensive fight against a cursed spirit, you would always be there to clean up and make sure he was wrapped up in bed all cosy.

and you would always lift up the covers and climb in once there was no more that you could do but simply act as a pillow for your husband as he tried to sleep off the throbbing pain.

a/n. um so my previous post on this topic blew up and i’m so so grateful so i thought i’d expand a little on this hc for anyone that was interested. rambled a bit towards the end but i hope you still like it!! love you lots xxx

[luveline]

could I request a Remus fic where he’s known and liked reader for a while and she’s recently had a glow up and is skeptical about her newfound attention? you don’t have to tho thank you <3

ty for requesting !! fem

You’re a cloud of dainty perfume as you flop down beside him. “That’s so weird.” 

“What’s weird?” Remus asks, half-paying attention to you, his other half trying to finish the sentence he’d been reading. 

“There was a boy at the front of the cafe trying to open the door for me even though I was already opening it myself, and then he, like, stood there holding it for a bit after I’d already come in.” 

“Is it possible,” Sirius butts in, because of course he does, a cigarette between his fingers unlit, “that he was flummoxed by your beauty, lovely girl?” 

You drive your face into Remus’ arm. “Not this again.” 

“You’ve always been beautiful,” Sirius concedes, unaware or unaffected by your bashfulness, “but lately you’ve got quite the glow. I’ve been trying to hook you for weeks. Haven’t you noticed?” 

Remus smiles at his friend, digging in his jacket for a lighter to throw him. Sirius opens his hand and catches it gracefully. “She’s always been beautiful,” he says agreeably. 

“Be back in a minute.” 

You lift your head only after his footfall has faded away, gaze first at the window where Sirius has gone to smoke outside, and then the table where Remus is laying his book to rest. “I can’t stand him when he does that.” 

“Does what?” 

“Acts like I’m prettier than I am.” 

“When does he do that?” Remus asks, not quite monotone but getting there. 

“You know what I mean.” 

“Do I? You’re lovely, and Sirius can’t not notice because he’s Sirius.” 

“Can’t not attribute every weird man’s behaviour to my change in appearance.” 

“You’ve changed,” Remus acquiesces. “And boys notice you more, but I think that’s more to do with your sudden propensity for smiling and walking around with your chin up than any haircut or lipgloss.” 

“Oh, quite right, professor.” 

He pinches your thigh, savouring the laugh that bubbles out of you and your little jump in your seat. “You’re a trollop, is that what you want to hear?” he asks. 

Your face falls to your chin, and yes, Remus has liked you almost since he met you, and yes, your recent change in appearance has made you more eye-catching, but he means it when he says the pull of your demeanour is your new confidence. You’re stunning, the smile you give him, that hint of brightness in your eyes as you start to squint, it yanks sorely between his lungs. He wants to kiss you now more than he ever has before. 

“You really think he held my door ‘cos he thought I was pretty?” you ask. 

“I didn’t say that, did I? Sirius did.” He stands and stretches, feeling bold but not brave. “I think he held your door because you’re the most beautiful girl in any room you walk into, but what do I know?” he asks, grabbing his empty coffee cup from the small table in front. “I’ll get you a coffee.” 

“You dick,” you mutter. Such a short sentence, and yet he can tell you’re flustered without turning around to see it for himself. 

It’s a good thing —if he were to see you now, your shy smile, he’d end up telling you exactly how he feels about you. 

[bleedingoptimism]

College dropout Steve Harrington with two years of business school under his belt, works, invests, saves, and manages his time and money until he has enough to open up his own little hair-dressing salon.

His parents didn’t approve of Steve’s “dream” at first but ended up warming up to the idea when the place didn’t crash and burn after a year. Now, two years in the running “Hair of Town” is doing numbers and Steve is ecstatic that he’s able to afford to hire an assistant.

Especially because Robin is the other half of his soul he didn’t know he was missing. She’s funny, brass, and sweet in her own way. She’s also incredibly intelligent, she’s working part-time with him and brawling her way through a major in linguistics in two different languages at the same time.

But, burnout it’s a thing and the reason why she called in sick last minute monday morning leaving Steve to manage the salon alone that tuesday.

He had just finished with a client and was thinking about how he hadn’t missed being alone in the shop at all when a girl with long wavy red hair comes in.

He smiles at her, looking at the door to see if someone else walks in after because the girl doesn’t look old enough to be walking around alone yet, “Good Da-”

“I want to cut my hair” she interrupts him. He suppresses a chuckle at the business-like attitude and smiles at her,

“Oka-”

“But I’m not cutting my hair unless my dad cuts his first” She interrupts him again and this time Steve does chuckle and looks up when the bell by the door rings as someone else walks into the shop.

A man, a gorgeous man with long curly hair walks in a little out of breath, “There you are!” he says and then looks up at Steve and his eyebrows shoot up and he visibly swallows and stumbles a little, “Oh! Hi…”

The little redhead points at the man and her eyebrows raise too, “See?” she says and Steve laughs again, “I see” he tells her and then smiles at the man.

Who takes that as his cue to come closer, “I see she’s already told you her conditions…” he says with a cheeky smile and then he leans in and whispers, “I don’t really want to cut my hair. I’ve been growing it for years” 

Steve gets momentarily distracted by big chocolate brown eyes but then he clears his throat and looks at the man’s hair, “May I?” he asks as he moves his hand closer to the strands framing the man’s face.

He blushes and nods before Steve touches it lightly, “Mmm, the ends are a little dry, we could fix that. Cut just a little,” and because the guy’s really pretty and he’s blushing a lot Steve can’t resist himself when he looks at him in the eye and smiles crookedly, “Just the tip?” 

Chocolate-eyes blushes even harder and blinks at him a few times before nodding slowly. 

“You’ll do it?” Redhead asks excitedly and for a second Steve forgot she was there. He turns and smiles at her and then moves and gestures them over to the couch, “Ok, who is going first?” 

“Him.” She answers immediately.

Chocolate-eyes sighs and Steve smirks at him, “Right this way, sr.” he says and takes them to the back to wash his hair.

He notices the little girl follows them and that the dad’s about to say something about it so he touches his shoulder lightly as he sits down, “It’s okay,” he assures him.

He can tell this girl is a handful but Steve already kind of adores her attitude. She’s obviously scared or nervous about getting a haircut and acting up tough seems to be her go-to and Steve finds that very relatable. 

“What are you doing?” She asks as Steve turns the water on and her dad gets comfortable in the chair. Steve beckons her closer as he explains, “I’m washing his hair,”

She crunches up her nose and giggles, “Is it dirty?” 

“Not at all, but it will let me see better what hairs I need to cut” he answers and as he starts touching the man’s hair, he closes his eyes and sighs contentedly in his chair.

Redhead nods like that makes perfect sense to her and then as Steve’s pouring shampoo in his hands she asks, “What’s that?”

“Shampoo” Steve tells her and offers his hand for her to smell the scent. She does and then nods again, she seems very satisfied with being involved in the process. 

As Steve massages the man’s head she stays beside him, watching attentively, and then perks up again when Steve grabs another bottle, “What’s that?” 

“Conditioner, to make his hair softer and easier to comb through” Steve answers and she taps her chin, “Of course,” she says and Steve chuckles making her frown, “What?” she prods.

“You are just very lovely” he says and boops her nose leaving a small dollop of foam behind. Redhead’s frown depends but when she notices the foam she giggles and swaps it off.

When he’s done washing the man’s hair, Redhead runs to the front of the shop and sits on the couch as Steve carefully wraps a towel around Chocolate-eyes head.

He can feel the man’s eyes boring into him so he looks at him and smiles and he blushes again, “You are really good with her,” he tells Steve.

Steve's smile grows wider and he looks down bashfully.

Once he’s sat, Redhead walks up closer to Steve and inspects what he’s doing, Steve grabs his scissors from his apron and moves them without touching yet through the length of the man’s hair.

Stopping at different heights he asks his little assistant where he should cut and gets an exasperated “Please don’t” from the man when he stops close to his neckline. Steve smiles and winks at him through the mirror and he blushes again.

Redhead seems very amused by the whole thing and when he finally gets to work, she just stands close to them watching quietly. And Steve keeps true to his word and only cuts the dried-up ends.

After he’s done he partially dries the hair and uses a hair lotion to work his curls and let it dry naturally. He gets the feeling this guy likes having his hair long but doesn’t take care of it at all and it makes his hands itch with the need to take care of it for him.

“What do you think?” he asks Redhead looking at their reflection in the mirror to include Chocolate-eyes in the answer.

The girl comes closer and her dad picks her up as she touches his hair, “Soft, pretty” she says and Chocolate-eyes smiles at her and kisses her cheek loudly.

“Your turn now!” he tells her and she visibly hesitates. 

Steve crouches until he’s at eye level with her, “I forgot to ask, are you the princess type? Maybe a knight? Perhaps the dragon?” he asks her, and she tilts her head and really thinks about it.

“A knight!” she declares and he smiles at her, 

“Ok! Sir Knight! This will be your throne” he tells her and points to the washing chair.

“Knights don’t have thrones” She frowns at him but goes to sit anyway.

“They do in my kingdom” he answers easily.

“So, are you the king of Hair of Town?” Chocolate-eyes asks with a smile and Steve smirks,

“Sure, but if I’m the king and she’s the knight, what are you?”

“The princess!” Redhead answers excitedly and tries to lift her head where Steve is washing it but he touches her forehead softly and she stills and looks up at him, “‘cause his hair is soft and pretty like a princess's hair now!”

He smiles and nods at her, “You are right,” and then he looks back at the man after placing Redhead with a towel wrapped around her hair on the cutting chair, “Would the princess like something to drink while he waits?” he asks flirtingly and gets the prettiest blush yet and a little fumbling in return before he takes pity on the man and makes his smile a little more friendly, “A coffee maybe?” 

But Princess seems to be of the mind that two can play this game, because he recovers easily and smiles at Steve, “Maybe some other time” he jokes.

Steve raises an eyebrow and smiles at him before turning his attention back to his Knight, “So, how would you like me to cut it?” he asks her, combing his fingers through her long hair softly.

“I can choose?” she asks excitedly and Steve looks briefly back at Princess who nods before smiling at her, “Of course”

She looks back at her dad and then at Steve and seems to think about it for a second before she says, “I want it short, like yours” 

Steve looks at her surprised, “Are you sure?” 

She nods decidedly, “Yes, I want it to look just like yours” 

Steve glances back at her father one last time just to make sure and he’s already smiling brightly back at him when he does. He nods once more and Steve gets his scissors out feeling silly for feeling so touched and flattered by the girl's request.

But just when he’s about to start his phone rings, and since it’s working hours and it’s probably someone wanting to make an appointment, he excuses himself for a second,

“Take care of the kingdom while I'm gone, ok?” he tells his Knight and she nods and sits up straighter on the chair.

He moves to the small side room where he keeps the coffee machine to answer but it ends up being a telemarketer so he quickly tells them he’s working right now and hangs up. And just as he’s about to open the door he hears Redhead talking with her dad,

“...But the princess can marry the king, right?” she’s saying, and Princess groans,

“Max, please don’t give your daddy ideas,” he tells her and Steve needs to take a moment before going back out there because his mind immediately conjures up stupid and beautiful images of a wedding, a white suit, and a black one, a cute flower girl with red hair, a happy family of three but also, way in the back of his mind, the man’s voice referring to himself as ‘daddy’ might have awakened something in him.

Huffing and plastering on a smile he walks out and sees the man blush again but he focuses on his red Knight, “Excellent job, I knew my kingdom was in good hands, you ready to start?”

Max nods going back to her stiff posture and Steve goes to work on her head, making sure she relaxes into a more comfortable position as he goes.

Soon, the hair is done, so he blow-dries it before styling it just like his own since that's what she had asked.

“What do you think?” he asks her just like before and she looks at him through the mirror and shakes her head, giggling when it moves easily with the shorter length, “I love it!” she says and then she gets off the chair and vows at him, “Thank you, King,” she says.

And Steve theatrically vows back at her, grabbing the edges of his apron as if it were a dress. “You are very welcome my brave Knight”

She giggles again and runs to her father, hugging his legs as he stands up.

Steve smiles and moves to the front desk to charge for the service but after Princess pays, he lingers and an awkward silence comes over them.

Steve chuckles and subtly pushes the small box with his business cards on it and the man smiles and takes one, “Well… I-”

“That's my personal number,” Steve says suddenly, nodding at the card, “If you… maybe, If- Just in case” he finishes lamely.

The fear of not seeing him, or Max again suddenly makes him stumble.

But Princess smiles at him, “Max, say goodbye to Your Majesty” he says vowing his head and keeping his eyes locked on Steve the whole time.

Max waves goodbye still shaking her head and messing up with her hair excitedly and then they are gone.

Steve smiles and sighs hoping that isn't the last time he sees them.

It’s 20 minutes later as he’s working on another customer that he feels his phone vibrate with a message and then another, and another, and a few more after that.

He checks his phone once the customer is gone and there’s a bunch of texts from an unknown number.

‘hey its eddie’

‘wondering when youd like to drink that coffee???’

‘i just realized i never told u my name’

‘i was there earlier’

‘for a haircut?????’

‘jesus christ im butchering this’

‘...............i was the princess’

‘really hoping you find this endearing and not pathetic’

He chuckles delighted at his phone as he takes a screenshot and sends it to Robin but not before answering back:

‘I’d love to have coffee with you, princess.’

☕🥐💕

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Imagine pretty boy Steve trapped in a mirror for his vanity.

Except he grows as a person so much that his sole purpose becomes boosting self-esteem of everyone looking into the mirror (unless they're being an asshole in which case, bye any semblance of personal worth).

"Looking great, Dustin, go and get them! Oh wait, move your tie slightly to the left, that's it, good job buddy, go go go!"

"Seriously Robin, there's no way your lady isn't all over you the moment you step in that restaurant. Did you wear smudge-proof lipstick? Time to test it."

"No, Nance, it's not weird to ask your ex-boyfriend if you look presentable, I mean, who else is better qualified? Good choice of dress for the interview, you're going to ace it."

"El, it doesn't matter how long your hair is. Yeah, it was so pretty, but it will grow back. But you know what else? You have gorgeous eyes, a wonderful smile and the way you say "mouth-breather" is everything. As long as you have that smile you'll be the prettiest girl around, so don't you dare worry about it."

"Mike, stop looking like someone stepped in your birthday cake, you're a handsome young man and Will is going to love the new haircut. If I'm wrong, feel free to come back and spread mustard all over my frame, but I've yet to be wrong. Yeah, you're a bit of an asshole too, now go and get your boy!"

"Joyce, you're as beautiful as always, but from what I know about Hopper, he'd think you're the most beautiful person alive if you were wearing a potato sack. But this dress is perfect and you look so happy. I wish you all the best on your date!"

"Yeah Jason, looks aren't the issue here...nothing I can do to help you all the ugly stuff on the inside buddy. Sure, smash the mirror if you want - good luck by the way, it's fucking cursed for a reason - but that won't make the truth hurt less, huh?"

And then Eddie accidentally steps in front of him and Steve has never seen anyone so unaware of his own beauty. And Eddie seems to be the only one apart from Robin who realizes how lonely he sometimes gets so he often takes Steve with him no matter where he goes (the big van is handy) and Steve makes sure to shower him with compliments, gradually finding exactly the right doses and right words to make Eddie understand how special he is, how radiant his smile looks, how he's so animated when he talks about things he loves-

And on the day when Eddie looks into the mirror and finally sees himself just as Steve sees him, the mirror cracks and Steve falls out, disoriented and kind of terrified, what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck-?!

But Eddie just smiles at him and hugs him, the first human touch in such a long time it makes Steve tear up. "Finally!" exclaims Eddie and pulls him even closer. "No shame at all Stevie, but that frame was fucking heavy!"

[luckybyler]

Will Byers is canonically super attractive, and that’s a risk for him.

I posted somewhere else that Will’s new look would drive all the girls crazy and it could be risky for Will, and someone replied saying that 1. Hawkins already mocked Will for being gay, 2. Will still looked nerdy in the picture, and 3. they didn’t think the Duffers would portray Will as being more attractive that the other boys from the Party.

The thing is, they have already played him up as more attractive than the other kids, and the fact that he still looks nerdy only highlights that more. He’s:

poor

suspected of being gay

a nerd

unpopular

shy

tiny (at least in seasons 1 to 3)

With a terrible haircut and fashion

with a shitty home life

Zombie Boy

and he still attracted three separate girls, two of which even made the first move (in the 80s!). The logical conclusion is that he must be one doll of a boy in-universe. I understand that it was necessary to bring home the point that he doesn’t like girls like that, but the side effect of that is that he comes off as more attractive.

Dustin had a whole plot point about no girls wanting to dance with him and got his long-distance girlfriend at Science camp. Lucas got Max to be his girlfriend by putting effort in it. Mike was straight-up the first boy El’s age she saw in her life (as she remembered it) and saved her life, fed her, etc. It’s not like she saw him and thought “he’s cute”. And I’m pretty sure that even in-universe they’re not unattractive, just not attractive enough to overcome their unpopularity and nerditude.

Plus it’s canon that Joyce was pretty in high school and she got together with Lonnie the Loser because he was a handsome “bad boy”. It’s not a stretch to assume that their children inherited their good looks. After all, Jonathan, who has the same handicaps as Will, replacing “gay” with “creepy loner with no friends” and adding “with no time because he works and takes care of his brother” managed to snatch Nancy Wheeler from rich, popular jock Steve Harrington, and nobody thought it was weird or that she was out of his league.

As for why this poses as risk for Will, there’s a difference between calling a delicate child gay slurs and being like “no for real, what’s the deal with this dude?” when they see that this now teenager has plenty of opportunity to be with girls and doesn’t take it, in a conservative town in the 80s.

[ikigaisvt]

quiet love

in which your boyfriend vernon likes showing his love for you in a quiet way.

pairing: vernon x f!reader words count: 2k content: childhood bestfriends to lovers, fluff, domestic warnings: so soft but very corny, contains pretty common prompts imo, vernon's love language is not words of affirmation lol, implied that kids are mean to vernon, mention of driving, drinking, loss and exes, reader is sick at one point (the flu), a lot of food/eating talk, they are so healthy youre gonna throw up, soooo much physical affection they make me SICK (holding hands, kissing, playing with each other's hairs, hugging etc), babe/baby petnames note: omg im alive?!?!? hiii!! it's been so long since i posted a fic! this one is a birthday gift for the loml @vcrnons <3 happy birthday, u know it all already but don't forget i love u sm!!! i hope you enjoy this childhoodbff!vernon (it's ur thing) who's very very in love but very very shy to say it. hope anyone else who sees this fic enjoy too! don't forget to interact with this if u liked it, rbs are very very very appreciated! thank u<3 (also this was proofread by tired me so if there is any mistakes, ignore it pls thanks <3)

Vernon has always been a man of a few words; when you first met him in elementary school, he was the quiet boy and nothing could get him to speak apart from spinning tops and his favorite cartoons. Still, you decided to befriend that calm boy – at the time, people used to think you were only being nice but deep down you knew: you were making a friend for life.

Going through all of the different steps of childhood and teenage hood with Vernon by your side was an experience – you raised hell together, driving your parents crazy. But it was also having a best friend to experience each other’s every first times: first partners, first time driving, first time getting drunk but also first breakup, first bad haircut and first loss. You have seen each other through everything. No, you have watched over each other through everything; wherever you were, Vernon was standing two steps back, making sure you were always safe. And wherever he was, you were always standing two steps back, making sure he was always loved.

And that’s how you both fell in love. It was slow and secure; falling in love with Vernon was never complicated or painful. It was how things dropped into place and none of you ever denied it; at the time you knew you were meant to be – maybe you always did. And so, you let yourself fall into each other’s arms, a safe place, full of quiet love.

You were 24 years old when Vernon first wanted to tell you he loved you; yet, he didn’t have the courage to fess up. Having spent his whole life showing his love through actions, he had a hard time saying it out loud. After a nice date to the cinema and the restaurant, he drove you back home, small talk and look exchanged during the trip. As soon as he puts the car in park, he reaches out to hold your hand, his thumb drawing circles.

“Had a nice time tonight?” he asks.

“Of course I did,” you answer, a blush creeping on your cheeks, “You know I always do with you,” you add, reaching out to cup his cheek.

“You need to go, you have an early day tomorrow,” he tells you, kissing your palm.

“Yeah, I’m going,” you say as you reach down for your bag and open the door, “Let me know when you’re home, okay?”

“Of course,” he says as he holds your face between his hand, “You do the same,” he adds against your lips before kissing you softly.

“It’s literally two steps away, I’m already home,” you chuckle as you exit the car.

“Won’t leave until I get the text, babe,” he smiles as he leans over the center console to look at you.

You roll your eyes sarcastically at him but still, your lips go up into a smile as your cheeks reddens from the way he so apologetically loves and cares for you. This boy would do anything to make sure you see how much he adores you. So, you wave him goodbye and it’s only when you close your front door and his phone buzzes with an i’m home :) drive safe, text me xx that you hear him drive off.

The second time he almost confessed to loving you was when you were 25. You had just gotten over an awful flu that got you bed ridden for days, unable to go on with your schedule as you normally would. You were sleeping the sickness off for hours on end, only waking up when Vernon knocked on your door to check up on you. Honestly, he knew it was only the flu, but he was so scared for you; in his eyes, you always appeared as the strongest women on earth so seeing you so weak and tired pulled at his heartstrings. He thought about confessing his undying love as you were blowing your nose – maybe it will magically heal her, he thought one night. But deep down he knew you needed someone to help you out physically and so, he did. He had taken such good care of you; he kept your home clean, did the laundry and helped you out to the shower if needed. He had thought about doing the cooking but he knew his poor skills wouldn’t get you to eat at all. So, even if you couldn’t finish your plates, he had ordered your favorite meals all week, even if he didn’t really like some of those.

It's been a few days since you last had a fever, so even if you were still blowing your nose and coughing a little bit, you could still get out of bed and hang out with Vernon. You two decided to have an at-home date, ordering your favorite meals and watching the show you recently started together. Since you were less sick you could finally finish your plate and eat more than usual; even after finishing your food, your stomach was still grumbling.

“I’m still hungry,” you whisper to yourself, not thinking Vernon would hear you.

“Yeah?” he asks, still looking at the TV as he holds a spoon full of food in the air, “Want a bite?” he says as he looks at you.

“Is that okay?” you ask, not wanting to take away his favorite food. Even when you were sick, you saw how Vernon only ordered your favorite foods – he deserved to have every bite of his favorite dish.

“Of course it is!” he smiles at you, extending his spoon in front of you, “You like it?” he asks, waiting for your nods of approval.

You nod enthusiastically, giving him a thumbs up with a smile, “That’s so good!” you exclaim before Vernon reaches for your plate. You look at him, wondering what he is up to before you see him fill your empty plate with more than half of his meal, “No, no, no,” you say, trying to reach for it as Vernon puts it out of reach from you.

“You need to eat, babe,” he says as he puts the dish on your lap, “Go on,” he smiles, patting your head before turning his attention back to his almost finished meal and the tv.

You smile down, cheeks red from your boyfriend’s attention. You notice how he gave you the tastier part of his dish – meat, veggies and a lot of gravy with a good amount of rice – and he kept most of the rice and only a piece of meat for himself. You start to eat happily, re-adjusting your position on the sofa to be closer to him. It might have been a year and a half since you started dating with no I love you’s said, but you know this is how he shows he loves you. And that is enough for you – it will always be.

It's now been two years since you started dating Vernon; you’re 26 years old, living with your boyfriend, your two cats and waking up every day with the love of your life next to you. Life is beautiful and you could not ask for more. To celebrate your anniversary with Vernon, you planned a trip to your hometown - only a 1 hour-drive from home – so you can have your date where you first kissed: at the cinema. If someone told Vernon he would one day ignore a movie to give his attention to a human being, he would have laughed at their face. But here he is. Countless of movies and shows watched with you right there, next to him, and yet you always steal his gaze away from the screen. You are just so beautiful, he thinks to himself. And when he sees you, laughing at a stupid joke from a character, he smiles with you. Not because the joke is funny, no, but because he cannot watch you without his heart filling up and his feelings pouring out onto his lips. He knew since he woke up that day, on your 2 years anniversary, that he would say it. It had been on the tip of his tongue since the first time he saw you in elementary school, smiling at everyone and saving bugs, but he always held it back. He thought it would be too soon, too fast, too much – but how can love ever be those things? he realized recently. He had said I love you a thousand times already through his actions, he had said he loved you out loud to his friends, his family, his cats. He thought now was the time you should hear it. So, all day, his head was in the clouds, thinking how to bring this up, how to say I’m in love with you to his soulmate. It happens when you pull him into your apartment at 1 am, your anniversary already over. You both get rid of your shoes, the tiredness of the day finally falling on your shoulders, before you pull him into you for a hug. Your arms stay at his waist, his heart going thump, thump, thump against yours as his cheek rest on the crown of your head.

“Gonna let you go to sleep,” you mumble against his shirt before letting him go, “I’m gonna shower.”

“Hey- babe,” he says softly to get your attention, his hand wrapping around your wrist, “need to tell you something,” he tells you as you’re pulled back against his chest, hands on his front as one of his rest on your waist, the other one covering your cheek.

“Everything’s okay?” you ask, rubbing circle on the fabric of his shirt.

“Yeah, everything’s good,” he whispers, his eyes going down to look at your lips and up again, “You’re pretty,” he speaks under his breath, a blush making its way on your cheeks – and his.

“Thank you,” you smile as you reach for his neck, pulling him down for a kiss, “You’re not so bad yourself,” you whisper against his lips.

He holds onto your cheeks, your foreheads resting against each other, “I love you,” he murmurs so low you think you made it up but as you open your eyes and see tears in his own, you know this is nothing but real life.

“Oh,” you gasp softly, taken aback, “I love you too,” you say, smiling up at the love of your life.

“I know this was long overdue and I’m sorry it took me so long-“ he starts to babble, uneasiness bubbling in his chest before you cut him off with a kiss.

“It’s okay,” you whisper, playing with the hair at his nape, “To me, you’ve said it a thousand times,” you reassure him as he blushes, chuckling softly at how you always find the right words for him, “But a thousand more wouldn’t hurt,” you tease slightly, making him snort.

“I love you,” he repeats, his arms wrapping around your shoulders as yours find a resting place at his waist, rubbing his back over his shirt.

“Again,” you say with a smile in your voice before kissing his chest in an I love you too.

“I love you,” he says against your hair, his hands making its way under the straps of your dress.

“Again,” you ask him, never getting enough of these words flowing out of his lips.

“I love you,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, leaving a kiss behind, “so much.”

“I’ll never get tired of hearing this,” you whisper, your hands meeting the end of his shirt, “I love you,” you say as you touch his bare back.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he says like a mantra, “I’d unlearn any other words so all you could hear is my love for you,” he whispers, his eyes meeting yours, before your lips collide – just like your worlds did so many years ago.

You’ve always found reassurance in this quiet love you and Vernon were giving each other – but maybe you liked your love being a little louder sometimes.

thank u for reading! hope you enjoyed hehe <3

[saturn-sugar-saturn-spices]

my favorite romance prompts/scenarios 🫶

like. ohhh my gosh when i read these i just go FERAAAAAAAAAAL 👹 and to think i’ve never even been in a relationship?? (i’m aroace loll) anyway, here you go!

cw: suggestive, sexual tension

A waking up and B’s face is so close to them, and their hand is on their forehead, and they’re just smiling in a slightly teasing way that makes A wonder if they know what they’re doing and oh gosh they feel hot all over nooow—

hand kisses with a smirk and direct eye contact and wet lips

one person grabbing the other’s chin

they don’t know the other person wears glasses and when they see them wearing them they’re just. SHOCKED. because they’re SOO PRETTY.

one person getting a new hairstyle or haircut and the other person is just thinking. woah

^^ similarly, a person who usually has it tied lets their hair down for the first time in front of another person (or vice versa) and they feel embarrassingly flustered (bonus points if they’re alone so it feels weirdly intimate)

(last appearance related one i swear) FORMAL WEAAAR, suits (pulling someone by their tie oh gosh), gowns, dresses, formalwear but with unbuttoned buttons and messy hair…

one person finds the other person begins influencing their interests and work, like they begin absentmindedly painting them, writing about characters similar to them, singing a song while suddenly thinking of them, etc. (i love it when this happens platonically, too 🥹)

sensitive spots on a person’s neck that the other discovers and won’t stop kissing and nipping at and biting—

one person making soft noises during a kiss and then blushing like crazy, and the other one notices and kisses them so much more intensely that by the end they’re pretty much the same color as a tomato

an oldie but certainly a goodie: “shut up” “make me”

^^ similarly: “ooooh you wanna kiss me so bad” , and the other person either starts angrily blushing or actually kisses them (or they angrily blush and then kiss them…)

cliché but still effective, one person trips and the other stops them from falling by holding onto their waist

“[name] kissed like they needed it to survive”

when they’re laughing together but as their laughter slowly dies down, they make direct eye contact, glance at the other’s lips, it feels like time slows down for just a minute…and then they meet in the middle

arguing and one person just shuts up the other by kissing them ; it’s just a soft, chaste one, but then the person who got kissed rushes back in

one person who’s awfully cocky keeps trying to get the other flustered by constantly firing pickup lines and saying flirty things to them, but one day they actually respond and suddenly they’re not so cocky anymore because fuck they’re hot

“pretty boy” / “pretty girl” BUT with a smirk and narrowed eyes

lingering touches like a hug or a comforting arm pat — it lasts for only a few moments but when it stops the other person immediately feels the loss of warmth and just wants to lean back in

[eideticallys]

Who's Your Barber?

request: based on this.

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: “you move fast, kid.” he turned to spencer who looked like he was on the verge of passing out. “letting Y/N cut your hair without going on a first date.”

genre: fluff

word count: 852

author's notes: hello! i'm back with another spencer reid tooth-rotting fluff without plot. this was based on a request sent to me. i hope you'll love this! also posted on ao3 (spencereids).

“DO YOU THINK MY HAIR’S TOO LONG?”

You looked up from where you were working on a pile of paperwork from a recent case only to stare at a pouting Spencer.

Cute, you thought.

“Why?” You asked, now facing the man in front of you who was busy fretting over his hair. “Is it bothering you?”

“No, not really.” He mumbled. “I just—I don’t know. I want to keep it this way because it’s always been kind of on the longer side but I also want to try cutting it short.”

A bit shy from his admission, Spencer started fiddling with the hair tie on his wrist, obviously not that comfortable implying that he did care about his looks even for a small bit.

You almost cooed at how adorable he’s being for a grown man.

“Okay,” You prodded him again, wanting to make sure you understood what he was trying to say. “So, you wanna try a new haircut but you’re not sure about it. Well, I can help you with that.”

Spencer looked up from where he was playing with his hair tie and scrunched up his brow in question.

“How?”

You instantly blushed at what you were about to suggest when you noticed Spencer being all for it. The thing about Spencer is that he’s a great listener as much as he likes to talk. Coming from a household where he never got to have a good companion unless his mom was doing okay, Spencer knew what it felt like when no one wanted to listen to whatever it was one has to say. With all your doubts starting to vanish at Spencer’s obvious interest, you shared your thoughts.

“Well,” You decided to share. It’s not like you would recount to him an embarrassing childhood story. That’s a story meant for another day. “I may or may not have worked at my aunt’s salon over the summer back when I was in high school. I wasn’t a hairstylist but learned a thing or two.”

Spencer’s eyes widened in wonder. You no longer regretted sharing your experience and were sure he was about to share a tangent on hairstyling in typical Dr. Spencer Reid fashion.

“Archaeologists discovered that cutting our hair and styling it have both been practiced by human beings as early as the Ice Age.” Spencer babbled. “Also, they said that people’s social class, age, ethnicity, race, and genetics determined the style of their hair throughout history even up to the late 20th century.”

You grinned at Spencer’s info dump and ruffled his hair, to which he scrunched his nose.

“So, Reid,” You replied. “When are we gonna cut your hair?”

“What, did you join a boy band?”

Everyone around the table started giggling and smiling as soon as Hotch directed the question at Spencer, as your cheeks reddened. Unfortunately for Spencer, you being a former employee at your aunt’s salon certainly did not do you wonders. Because what was supposed to be a trim here and there became a short haircut for him, quite shorter than what he has envisioned, he shared with you.

You almost dug yourself a hole right then and there.

But apparently, Spencer liked it enough—loved it even—to not hate you for cutting his hair too short. It’s fortunate—for him and especially for you who gets to see him in his new hair every day—that Spencer was pretty. He looked good both in long and short hair.

However, with Hotch asking him that question, you were sure Spencer would hate you for cutting it wrongly.

“No?” Spencer replied as his brows crinkled. You breathed a sigh of relief with his answer, which Rossi didn’t fail to notice. 

You were about to head out when Hotch just announced, “Wheels up in 30.” When you heard Rossi speak to Spencer

“I like your hair, kid.” You almost smiled until Rossi questioned him. “Who’s your barber? Maybe I’ll get myself the same haircut.”

As if it couldn’t get any worse, you heard Morgan join in on the conversation, like both he and Rossi knew something you don’t. Spencer probably didn’t know what that something was too.

“Yeah, pretty boy. Who’s your barber?”

Spencer looked like he had swallowed a frog and he had seen a ghost with how comical he looked right now. 

It seemed Spencer knew what Rossi and Morgan were trying to imply in their prodding.

“It seems to me,” Rossi continued. “It was our lovely Y/N who cut his hair.”

At this, your eyes widened as Derek smirked.

“You move fast, kid.” He turned to Spencer who looked like he was on the verge of passing out. “Letting Y/N cut your hair without going on a first date.”

Spencer likes you back? 

As in more than friends? 

Non-platonic?

Spencer likes you back!

“Shut up!” Spencer screeched.

“Let’s leave the kids alone.” Rossi appeased Spencer while looking at you. “They have a date to plan.” 

Spencer sputtered out as both men chuckled while moving out.

“So, Reid.” You simpered. “Where are we going for our first date?”

[hanjsquokka]

She's Crazy But She's Mine - [ Han Jisung ]

🏍 SYNOPSIS : How hard could Jisung fall for a girl as dangerous as you? He knew you were crazy. But he couldn't deny the adrenaline that pumped through him as you revved down the empty highways, his arms around your waist as you drove to who knew where. You were reckless... and he was hopelessly in love.

GENRE : strangers to potential lovers, smut, angst, fluff if you squint

PAIRING : han jisung × f!reader

CONTENT WARNING : reader is a biker, jisung undergoes a sub-awakening, smut (warnings under the cut!), reckless driving, speeding, driving without a helmet, reader calls jisung pretty boy, smoking

WORD COUNT : 6.6K

AUTHOR'S NOTE : I was thinking biker girls and then Jisung popped up into my mind and it was honestly the most random thing I've done but it suits him so well. Also this took so long to finish and I'm not particularly happy with the ending but I hope you guys like it <3

minors dni. if you click read, you agree to nsfw content

SMUT WARNING : slight dom reader, switch jisung, fingering oral (f receiving), nipple play, marking, piv, protected sex, reader calls jisung good boy, whiny jisung

Jisung drummed his fingers along the open window of the car, the heat of the summer was dying down as evening settled in. His friend, Chan, was in the driver's seat, singing along horribly to PSY's Gangnam Style blasting on the radio. The man had a good voice but he often chose to torture Jisung's eardrums whenever they were together. It seemed like the red light was taking forever to turn green as they waited on the intersection of the highway.

The sound of a motorcycle engine next to him caught his ear — and boy was he glad the traffic light wasn't changing because goddamn. He felt like those guys in movies, when they see the female lead for the first time and it was like time stood still and some stupid love song played in the background as their vision tunneled to her. He wasn't trying to be rude, but with the tinted helmet obstructing his view of your face, his eyes drifted down (involuntarily) to the tight-fitting black leather jacket you wore and your pants —

“Need something?” You lifted your helmet up, presumably to drink water from the bottle you pulled out from the bag strapped to the engine, your head slightly tilted to the side so you could look at him from the corner of your eyes as you gulped down the water. He swallowed, his eyes trained on the way the leather hugged your bust perfectly. “My eyes are up here.”

That snapped him out of his trance, cheeks burning red with embarrassment as he met your teasing glance. “S-Sorry, I was — distracted? —”

“Uh huh.” You nodded sarcastically. “Have a nice drive.” You winked at him before putting the helmet back on. The traffic light betrayed his thoughts, switching from red to green, making you rev your engine and shoot down the intersection and out of sight.

Jisung wanted to melt into a puddle of shame as he heard Chan's raucous laughter at the interaction. Thank goodness he would never have to run into you again.

His happiness was short lived — as expected. The diner they stopped at had an enticing aroma of fried food. It was just the thing he needed after whatever happened earlier. Jisung sat at an empty table, checking his phone while Chan went and ordered their food at the counter. Chan came back with a smirk on his face and sat down in front of him. “Guess who's here?” He leaned to the side.

Jisung glanced up at the entrance. His heart instantly skipped a beat when he saw the motorcyclist walking into the diner, your helmet removed so he could properly get a good look at your face and the short haircut you sported, stopping on your shoulders as you ran a hand through it to mess it up. You looked absolutely stunning, and his heart raced even faster when he caught your gaze as you looked around the diner, scanning each of the tables for a vacant spot. There was a glimmer of recognition in your eyes, but you made no move towards him. His eyes stayed on your figure, unable to tear them away from you.

His breath caught in his throat as he kept watching you. Every inch of your body is perfect, and he couldn't help but notice how your figure fits your biker apparel. His mind filled with dirty thoughts as he imagined putting his hands on your body, but Jisung shook his head to clear his inappropriate thoughts. Chan was here. He shouldn't be imagining… how it would feel to have you all over him, the smirk on your face as you — Stop Jisung. How the heck did he manage to get himself a boner at the mere thought of a stranger doing sinful things to him?

He kept his gaze on you until you found an empty table and sat down, your back to him. Jisung breathed a heavy sigh and slumped back in his seat, his heart still pounding in his chest. He felt so stupid for staring at you, especially with Chan sitting right in front him. He was sure the brunette noticed the way he was ogling you. He'd never live that down. Maybe all he needed to do was forget about the motorcyclist and your gorgeous body…

A tray of fries and burgers was placed in front of them. Chan gave the waiter a friendly smile before turning back to Jisung, “I have an idea.”

“Hm?” His attention piqued by the hint of mischief in his voice. “What is it?”

“You'll see.” Chan smirked and went up to the table where you were sitting.

“Wait, dude —” Jisung wasn't able to drag his friend's ass back to their table before he settled himself in the chair in front of you. He had absolutely no idea what he was saying but was spilling his guts about how Jisung had the most perverted thoughts, it was going to be the most mortifying thing he was ever going to have to endure. He would have to change his identity, move to Morocco and start a new life as a shawarma stall owner. He was startled out of his life crisis when he saw a pair of leather combat boots next to his table. He sucked in a breath before looking up. You showed no signs of pure disgust — which could be a good thing or it could be a horrible thing.

“Come on then.”

He blinked. “What?”

“I don't have all day.” You looked at him expectantly. Jisung was utterly confused and his eyes darted to Chan, who was gesturing to follow you. He nearly stumbled over his feet twice as he got out of the chair. You didn't say another word, walking out of the diner with your hands stuffed in the pockets of your leather jacket. The air outside was cool, the evening breeze fully settled in, which helped the nervous sweat forming on his forehead. Were you so mad you were going to take him out of the diner and murder him? You twirled a keychain in your hands, leading to the motorcycle he saw you driving earlier. It was a beautiful bike, completely covered in black with bright green accents. “Have you ever been on a bike before?”

Jisung swallowed and shook his head. “Uh, no.” He admitted quietly.

“Your friend was very expressive in your interest towards motorcycles.” What did Chan even tell you? He didn’t know the first thing about motorcycles.

“Ah, yes, he's... he's a bit of a motorhead.” He said, trying to find out exactly what was going on. Then again, he couldn't help but admire your confidence and boldness. He wondered if this is how it would be if the two of you were together (he was one hundred percent delusional at this point), if you would be the dominant one in the relationship... But he shook his head again, trying to keep his dirty thoughts at bay.

“I don't have a spare helmet and mine is too small for you so you're just going to have to risk it.” Risk it? Were you… going to take him for a ride? On your motorcycle? Although he wished for something else to be ridden, this would do for now. Chan was brilliant. He seriously owed his friend one.

“Ah, I see…” He nodded. Your words finally registered in his brain. He was a little nervous about riding a bike without a helmet and the idea of getting on a motorcycle with a complete stranger he’d been blatantly ogling in public also didn't really sit well with him. On the other hand, he was extremely tempted to just say the hell with it and get on the bike with you anyway, because you're so damn sexy and he couldn't stop thinking about how much he wanted you.

“Don't worry pretty boy, I'll get you back to your motorhead friend in one piece.” Jisung blushed at the way you called him pretty boy. He licked his lips unconsciously and then nodded slowly. You got on the bike and turned the engine on. He hesitated for a few moments before getting on behind you. In his defense — he tried to maintain a friendly gap between the two of you. But the smooth leather was against his wishes and he prayed to whatever deity was watching over him that you couldn't notice the hard-on that was pressing against your ass as you pulled out of the parking lot. “I'd hang onto something.” Was the last thing you said before you revved your engine and exited the lot, joining the highway. Jisung held onto your waist with a yelp as you accelerated, his grip tightening with every second.

Jisung's heart started raced, his body pressing even closer against yours from the velocity of the bike. The rush of the speed and the sensation of your warm body against him were making his heart flutter. He didn't know if it was the adrenaline or the fact that he was right up against your back, feeling every inch of your hips with his hands. He gripped you tighter, feeling a thrill go through his body with every revolution of the bike engine.

“You doing okay back there?”

“Mmhm.” Jisung swallowed hard and held you tighter. His breathing was heavy and he felt a little uneasy, but he couldn't pull himself away. The way you kept speeding the bike up made him feel even more alive. This was probably the thrill of the ride that most people talked about. The trees and other vehicles whizzed past as you expertly maneuvered down the highway.

Ten minutes later, he was hugging the ground for dear life. Sure, he enjoyed the ride. Heck, he was certain he'd do it again if given the chance. But he was also certain he nearly lost his life three times consecutively — so he was glad to be on the pavement again.

"You're cute." You chuckled, sitting on the motorcycle as he looked at the ground like it was the most precious thing he’d ever seen. “Take your time kissing the dirt. I'm going to go back for my burger.” You hopped off the vehicle and went back into the diner.

Jisung took a few seconds to recollect himself before he jogged into the diner and slid back into his booth. “So, how was it?” Chan asked.

Jisung made a funny noise in his throat and turned his face away from him, embarrassed. “Not sure why you had to set me up with one of the hottest girls I've seen in ages,” he groaned. “I mean, she asked me if I've ever been on a bike before, and I said no. Now I've been on a damn motorcycle with her.”

“You owe me.” Chan pointed a fry at him before popping it into his mouth.

Jisung rolled his eyes but smiled. “Yeah, yeah, I know I do. Just, next time please don't set me up with someone like that. I almost had a heart attack just seeing her, never mind being pressed up against her for ten goddamn minutes.”

“Best ten minutes of your life seeing how you were drooling when you first saw her.”

“Shut up! She’s hot, okay? I couldn't help myself. She's a biker and she's so damn confident. It's so… attractive.” He shrugged, not even trying to deny it.

“Then man up and ask her for her number or her social media, dumbass.”

“I was thinking about it! But she seemed so serious when she first came up to me, and then she did that bossy thing on the bike, and…” He sighed and shook his head. “I'm not sure she'd be interested in me. Do you think I have a chance with a girl like that?”

“You were turned on by a girl bossing you around?” Chan laughed. "Boy, you are down bad. Either you go there and ask her or I will go up to her myself and explain the crush you have on her so I don't have you talk my ear off for weeks.”

“No way, don't you dare!” Jisung glared at him before he shook his head again with an exasperated sigh. He couldn't deny, however, that the thought of being dominated like that by you was arousing as hell. He felt his face heat up with embarrassment just thinking about it. “Come on... She was so bold and direct. You have to admit, it was pretty hot.”

“If she's so hot, go ask her.”

“Ugh, you know what, screw it.” He pushed back his chair and got up, hesitantly walking over to the table where you were sitting.

“Oh, pretty boy. Need something?” You lifted your head up when he stood in front of you, licking the ketchup off your fingers.

Jisung was taken aback by your sudden forwardness, but his mind quickly shifted focus when you were licking the ketchup off your fingers. The sight was so casually sexy that he could feel his pulse speeding up. He blushed and looked away, trying to regain his composure. “Uh, yes. I was uh... I was — um, can I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

He took a deep breath and then looked back up at you, biting his lip and trying to work up the courage to say what he wanted to say. He decided to just ask you straight up because there wss no way he could try to flirt or impress you. You were too confident and assertive for that. He cleared his throat. “Can I have your Instagram or number or something... in case I want to ask you to go on a date one day? Would that be too forward?”

You chuckled. “I was right. You are cute.” You opened the phone app on your phone and handed it to him.

His heart skipped a beat and he blushed brightly when you called him cute. He took your phone with trembling hands, his face heating up even more from the physical contact with your hands. He punched in his number and gave his phone a missed call before he handed it back to you. “S-so I can just... hit you up whenever I want?”

“Sure." You shrugged. “Does the pretty boy have a name?”

Jisung blushed again when you called him a pretty boy, your confidence and straightforwardness made him feel flustered. “A-ah, yeah, my name's Jisung.”

“Jisung. That's nice." You nodded.

“What about you?”

“Hmm? It's Y/n.” You winked at him. “Now if you'll let me get back to my burger…”

“Oh, sure, yeah. Uh, enjoy your burger.” Jisung stumbled over a chair and sat down next to Chan again.

“That was a long talk for a phone number.” Chan teased.

"Don't make fun of me... I was nervous!" Jisung glared at Chan angrily but couldn't help but blush from embarrassment. “She's pretty bold, y'know? I think that's what makes her so hot.”

“You have weird kinks, my friend.”

“Shut up, it's not a kink! I don't have a kink for women who are — who are — uh…” He trailed off, not wanting to admit how much your dominance and I don’t give a fuck attitude appealed to him. He didn't know why, it shouldn't be so enticing, but you were so confident and the way you carried yourself was so attractive. It made him want to be under your control, to do whatever you asked of him... And to feel your body pressed up against his again.

Holy shit. Was he… a sub?

Jisung's life took a whole one-eighty once you became a part of it. Sure, his initial attraction was a bit sexual — but after knowing you for a few weeks courtesy of your spontaneous bike rides to who knew where at ungodly speeds, he came to the realization that he was down bad. Like six feet under bad. Despite your tough persona, you were sweet. He felt like he was a chipmunk who'd broken open a walnut.

Of course, he was terrified ninety percent of the time. What if you took it too far one day? What if he wasn't there to help you? What if you ended up in the hospital or worse? Your need for speed outgrew all your other needs and he had to come to terms with it.

can rail me🧎‍♂️💞: Hurry up, I'm waiting outside.

Jisung and you had decided for another outing, and he was anxiously pacing in his living room awaiting your reply. His heart pounded when he read your text, getting up quickly and ran to the door, and out of the apartment building before you had even waited a full minute. You could see the impatient excitement in his eyes. Your message had only been one sentence but he took it as you being demanding and impatient, which he found extremely hot. He noticed how beautiful you look when the sunlight hits you just right, illuminating your skin and making your hair shine so bright. He blushed deeply when you noticed him looking, his eyes lingering on your lips. His whole body felt restless and he struggled to keep himself from pulling you close and kissing you. One day, Jisung was going to strangle himself for the way he felt around you, for the way he’d started to jerk off to the thought of you, moaning your name for the whole world to hear as he came again and again in his hands.

“Where are we going today?”

You handed him a helmet, one that he'd been using ever since two weeks ago when he'd managed to convince you to stop driving that carelessly and bought him a helmet — was that an open declaration of love? “It's a surprise.” You got onto your motorcycle. “You coming?” He nodded before he joined you. The feeling of sitting right behind you was never going to get old. “Better hold on pretty boy.” You revved the engine and shot down the roads.

The evening time made everything so much more thrilling. Jisung's face flushed bright red when you called him a pretty boy. Every time you used that name with him, he felt it all the way down to his toes and his body felt like it was being enveloped with warmth. His heartbeat sped up and he leaned forward slightly, resting his hands on your waist so he didn't fly off the back when you drove. He looked into the rear view mirror and couldn't help but admire how you looked as you drove. That look on your face and that attitude... it was sexy as hell.

He loved how you grip the handle tightly, your body confidently holding the bike as it drove through the windy turns of the dark, narrow road. He loved how fast you dorve, how daring and brave you were. It only added to your sexy, dominant presence. He closed his eyes for a second and let his mind be consumed by the adrenaline. He loved how the wind blew over him, how the sound of the engine combined with the wind to created a symphony of excitement and adrenaline, how the bike shook him up every time you went too fast around a turn.

Jisung could feel it happening again. He was getting turned on just by you driving a motorcycle (in his defense, anything you did could elicit a non-child-friendly reaction in him).

After a while, you pulled up into an empty clearing, the top of a small hill that dipped down into a valley of trees, away from the bustling of the highway, overlooking the sky. The sun was setting over the horizon. “Good time?” You asked once you got your helmet off.

“Good time?” Jisung was slightly out of breath. “You mean, other than the fact that you almost gave me several heart attacks while we were driving? Other than the fact that I'd probably have died ten times if I wasn't wearing this helmet? Other than the fact that you drive like you're in a freaking action movie? Yeah, it was a pretty good time.”

“You make it sound like it's a bad thing." You laughed.

“Bad? Bad, is the understatement of the century. It's more like... life threatening.” He smiled and glanced away, not being able to handle the direct eye contact anymore. “You're insane, you know that, right?”

“You don't sound like it bothers you.”

“No, it really doesn't.” Jisung looked up at you, his gaze flickering to your lips. “I think your... uh, way of driving is exciting.” He nodded slightly, trying to distract himself by playing with the straps of the helmet in his hands, fingers tracing over the green streaks contrasting the black of the background. He didn't know how he was going to be able to handle being this close to you and not kissing you all the time. It was making it so much harder, the way you just... teased him and drove him insane with lust…

“Just my driving?”

He sighed and met your gaze again, heart pounding in his chest. When you teased him like that, it pushed him right over the edge. “No,” he answered quietly. “Not just your driving. Everything about you just…” He trailed off, noticing his face was heating up again.

“Just?”

“Everything about you just... it drives me insane. I mean, the way you tease me, the way you look at me, the way you're so confident and so bold... It doesn't just drive me insane, it makes me crazy. You... you push all my buttons, and you don't even know it. You make me wanna kiss you so bad, just so I can know everything about you. Everything about you is so damn attractive, I can barely handle it.”

“You want to kiss me?” Of course that was the one thing you caught in his entire rant. Jisung nodded frantically and couldn't seem to look away from your lips. His mouth felt dry. “Then kiss me, pretty boy.”

He blinked, waiting for you to yell sike. But it never happened. Hesitantly, he leaned forward, one hand reached back and grips the waist of your jeans as he gets closer, getting closer and closer until you guys are nose-to-nose. His heartbeat was so loud that he could barely hear his own thoughts. He hesitated only for one more moment before finally locking his lips onto yours. Jisung melted into the kiss, one arm wrapping around your waist. He leaned forward, pushing you up against the bike as the other hand slid down your back, settling on the small of your rear.

The feeling of being pressed up against you like this was so addictive and he struggled to keep it together as his heart skipped a beat. His tongue ran along your bottom lip, wanting to feel as much of you as possible. Your hands tangled in his hair, your mouth parting slightly. He took that as an opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. The outside world was slowly fading away, only leaving you two on the yellowy-green grass, pulling each other impossibly close with each second. He felt like he was going to explode.

He only detached his lips from yours to breathe deepily, lungs relishing the fresh air that he took in. He looked at you through half-lidded eyes swimming with desire, only to find you giving him the exact same expression. It was enough to make his dick twitch in his pants, now getting hard against his boxers.

“You're playing with fire, pretty boy.”

“I like playing with fire.” Jisung smiled and leaned in to kiss you again, pushing you up against the bike once more. His dick strained against the confines of his jeans and the way his was practically rutting against your thigh to create that delicious friction almost made him bust right there. Anyone could see the two of you basically humping against each other if they diverted from the highway onto the clearing the two of you were in. You broke the kiss this time.

“Let's get you home." You mumbled and stood up, brushing the grass off of your black pants, face flushed from the intense make out you had with him.

“Yeah... that sounds like a good idea.” Jisung was breathing heavily but he managed to nod his head as he stood up with you. He brushed his hair out of his face and tried to focus his thoughts on the evening ahead. But every time he looked at you, he felt the heat rising up in his cheeks once more and his cock began to throb again. This is going to be a long drive home. He wanted to touch you so badly. He wanted to kiss you again. He wanted to wrap his arms around you and never let go. The feeling of wanting and craving you was overwhelming and he could barely think straight. He couldn't help but feel anxious about what was going on between the two of you. Was this just a fling, or something more? He wanted to believe it would lead to more, but he was also afraid of setting his hopes too high.

“You think so?” Jisung smiled at your compliment as he closed the door and locked it behind him. The sudden thunderstorm outside had halted the bike rude to nowhere, which resulted in him inviting you into his home for the first time. Of course, he spent five minutes tripping over things he didn't even know existed in his two bedroom flat until he was clutching the wall for support — since when the hell did he use a neon yellow yoga mat?

“Mhm. It looks like you.”

“Oh? What's that supposed to mean?”

“Take it however you want, pretty boy.” Jisung chuckled, cheeks reddening as they did every time you used that nickname. “You can sit in the living room. I'll get us something to drink.” He treaded to the kitchen and popped open the refrigerator.

“Better not be Fanta.”

“Come on, that was one time!” You only laughed at his words. “I have coffee and beer and…”

“Fanta?”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “And Fanta.”

The two of you settled on coffee. He was thankful you didn't choose beer — who knows what sort of embarrassing shit he might've spilled in a drunken haze? You sat together on his couch, coffee mugs in hand and enjoyed the calming atmosphere, the pattering of the rain against his windows and the smell of coffee beans soothing.

“So... what do you want to do?”

“You.” The words came out without him thinking. He choked on his coffee, eyes watering as he placed the mug on the table and wished a hole would open up and swallow him. Guess he didnt even need the beer.

“You want to do... me?” You chuckled.

He stammered as he tried to explain. “That's not — oh my god, that's not what I meant-”

"I think it is though, isn't it?” Jisung bit his lip and ran a hand through his hair as he looked down. He couldn't help but feel embarrassed, now that you were teasing him about his slip-up. “Then do something about it.”

“Well, I —” He paused when he saw the way the corner of your mouth curled up into a confident smirk. Your eyes glued to him and it felt like you were looking right through him with your eyes. You knew what he wanted. You knew what he was thinking. He leaned towards you, closing the distance. He grabbed your waist, fingering dangerously trailing over the hem of your shirt.

“I hope you know how to use your mouth.” You teased.

“I think I'm pretty damn good.” He mumbled, lips brushing against yours. His eyes fluttered shut as he leaned in and closed the gap. The feeling of your lips on his — oh that was a feeling he'd never get over. Even though he had kissed you only once, the memory of that incident was enough to arouse him whenever he thought of it. He squeezed your waist and pulled you into his lap, not breaking the kiss, earning a breathy moan from you as you sat atop his raging boner. He didn't hesitate to slide his tongue into your mouth, deepening the already seeking kiss. You rolled your hips into his and it was his time to let out a muffled groan, you doing it again and again until he had to hold your hips firmly so he wouldn't bust right there. “God you're driving me crazy.”

“Shirt off.” You tugged at his t-shirt which he readily took out, leaving him bare chested in front of you. You kissed once more as your hands roamed over his shoulders before you began peppering kisses along his jaw until you found a spot at the junction of his neck and collar that made him moan. You nipped at his skin, harsh enough to leave a mark behind. He liked that. He liked being marked by you.

“Your turn.” He helped you slip off your shirt and then your bra, leaving your tips on full display. “Oh baby.” He breathed out, reaching up to hold them in his hands and then wrapped his lips around your hardening nipples. Your back arched into his face, hands tangling in his hair as he sucked on your nipples and fondled the other with his hand. “I could live here forever.” He moved to your other breast, harshly tugging on the buds, eliciting beautiful moans from you. You lifted his face up from your boobs and kissed him, grinding your hips into him once more. The delicious friction made his mind go blank. “Fuck. Baby, I gotta eat you out. Can I eat you out?”

You nodded. He wasted no time, scooping you up and took you to his bedroom and laid you on the bed. His hands rested on the waistband of your jeans, eyes searching yours once more for confirmation. Another nod was all he needed to pull down your pants along with your panties, pussy on full display.

“Fuck… you're dripping.” He spread your legs apart and positioned his face right in front of your dripping cunt. “A fucking feast.” He licked a hesitant stripe before he dove in, relishing the taste of you. His nails dug into your thighs to keep them apart as he lapped up your juices, your moans only driving him more insane. His tongue dove into you before he went up to your clit.

“Jisung — fuck —” Your hands pulled at his hair but the pain only added to his arousal. He prodded his fingers at your hole because sliding one in and then two, pistoning in and out and adding to the mind-blowing pleasure you were already feeling. Whimpers and moans tumbled from your lips, only increasing as he felt you clench around him more and more, making him wonder what his dick would feel like inside you.

“Make a mess f'me baby.” He mumbled against your clit before wrapping his lips around it once more.

“Fuck — J-Jisung, fuck I'm gonna c-cum — fuck —” Your thighs clasped around him, nearly suffocating him (he didn't care obviously), body spamming as you rode out your high. He kept his fingers inside you, feeling your walls clench around the digits. “Holy shit.” You laughed once you came down, breathing heavily as you propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him, covering in your juices and looking pretty darn happy about that.

“I could eat you out forever and never get tired of it.”

“As much as I would like that, I'm pretty sure your dick is going to be much better.”

He swallowed, getting up to get a condom and take off his sweatpants before kicking them away. He crawled between your legs, rolling the latex onto his cock before he positioned himself at your entrance.

“Tell me to stop if it hurts, okay?” He pushed the tip in and inched himself slowly despite the fact that he just wanted to ram into like a dog in heat. Your walls were sucking him in and by the time he was fully nestled inside you, he was nearly delirious with the need to cum.

“You can move.” You put your legs around him, linking your ankles so he was impossibly deep.

He nodded, pulling back before snapping his hips forward, and then again and again until he set a even pace, his cock getting milked by your walls. “So tight.” He groaned, balls aching already as he fought the need to cum. He bit his lip, eyebrows taut as he tried to get you closer to your climax as well. “F-Feel good?”

“So good. Amazing.” You moaned. “Fuck. So good. Such a… good boy.” That new nickname made him whimper. He buried his face into your chest to hide his whiny moans. “Gonna cum for me?” He nodded frantically. “Be a good boy. Hold it… just for a little while, okay?” He was panting, hands working on their own as one reached between your legs and found your clit and rubbed harsh circles. Your hands made their way to your breasts and pinched your nipples.

“‘M gonna cum — fuck —”

“Cum for me pretty boy.” The way your walls clenched around him made him moan loudly, whining and groaning as he couldn't hold himself back anymore and came in the condom. You climaxed as well, pussy milking him dry. He slumped against you, still inside as he tried to catch his breath. He pulled out a minute later and threw away the condom, cleaning you up before he joined you on the bed again.

An arm thrown over your body, he pulled you close. “Fuck, I love you.” He mumbled, still in his post-orgasmic haze. He didn't hear your reply, falling into a deep sleep almost instantly.

You were gone.

You were gone.

You were gone.

That was the only sentence running through his mind when he woke up the next morning and you weren't in the bed next to him. You weren't in the bathroom. You weren't in the living room or the kitchen or anywhere. His heart was pounding in his chest, nearly painful as he stumbled about to find you. Did you hate what happened? Did you hate him? Was this all a fucking sick joke to you? He went from concern to anger and back again throughout the day, driving through the city out of his mind with worry. When he didn't find you in your usual places, he knew there wss only one place

The entire day was spent searching, trying to track you down. He texted, called, left voicemails, everything he could think of and you were at that clearing, leaning against your motorcycle with a cigarette in your mouth. Jisung stared at you, still unable to believe you were here in front of him right now. All those emotions that were boiling inside of him a second ago had vanished, their intensity replaced by a simmering anger. He marched over to you stood in front of you, folding his arms. “You could have just told me that last night was a one-time thing, that you weren't interested in more. I would have understood.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Don't play stupid.” He scoffed. “I thought this meant more to you…”

“That's rich. Coming from you.”

“The hell do you mean by that?” Jisung glared at you, his anger rising again as he refused to let his feelings be invalidated.

“I saw your stupid text, okay?” You turned away from him, taking a long drag from your cigarette.

He froze. He loved Chan. He truly did. That man meant a lot to him but he knew none of that was an excuse. His friend had texted him whether Jisung had made a move on you and whether you were any good or not.

His heart sank and his stomach dropped with shame as he realized you know exactly what was said. “I-I... that text wasn't meant for you to see.”His voice shook as he tried to defend himself, but he knew he already lost. He could tell from your expression and from how calm you were that you couldn't be anymore indifferent about it. You didn't care that the message was meant to be a joke. In your eyes, it was the truth.

“Clearly.”

“I-It's not what you think.”

“Then what is it, huh?” Jisung sighed, his body sagging a little at your attitude. In the back of his mind, he couldn't completely deny that, at least in the beginning, the thought of having sex with you did have an influence on his actions. However, everything that happened after that — his feelings, his desire to get to know you better, wanting more than just a one-night stand — was... genuine. But he had no idea how to tell you.

“Sit down. You look like you're going to pass out." You moved to the side so he would have place on the grass. He nodded numbly as he sat down next to you. The grass was itchy underneath his palms. He felt a mixture of rage and despair as he watched you casually take another puff of your cigarette. A second later, the cigarette was taken out of your hands. “Hey!” You looked over at him. “Give that back.”

“It's bad for you.” He kept the cigarette away from you.

“Shut up.” You leaned over and tried to get it back, but you lost balance and fell on top of him. He caught you, arms wrapping around your waist so you wouldn't hurt yourself. It was an instinctive reaction that happened before he could even think about it, but when your weight pressed against him, he didn't let you go. His heart beat rapidly as your bodies were pressed together, your legs straddling him and your arms around his torso. You tried to get off but he held you tighter. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing. Let's just stay like this for a little bit longer.” Jisung's words came out as a whisper.

Your body soon relaxed in his hold. “Your friend is a jackass.” You muttered. He chuckled, beginning to stroke your hair as you laid on the grass, limbs entangled with each other. “And… it's not just that. I'm just… not good enough for you Jisung. My addiction to this… driving like a psychopath and smoking… you don't —”

“Don't tell me what's good for me and what's not. I'm not a kid.” He said sternly. “I can do whatever I want and I want you, Y/n. Yes, my initial attraction was physical but it's… so much more than that now. Your addiction? We'll work on it. But I won't let you completely give up riding a motorcycle because you're hella sexy when you do.” You laughed. “You're crazy, but you're mine. I love you Y/n. I think I said this last night… and it's okay if you don't give me an answer right now —”

“I love you too. I've spent too long denying that.” You interrupted him, leaning your head up so you could look him in the eye.

He smiled. “You mean that? Oh baby, I love you so so much.” He pulled you back into his chest and squeezed you. “We'll work on this together, okay?”

“Okay.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Love you, pretty boy.”

“Love you too, pretty girl.”

©hanjsquokka | copying, translating or republishing my work is strictly prohibited

[octuscle]

My professor is such a pain in the ass! I tried turning him into an average dumb college frat guy, but it’s not working!

Whew! Indeed, your professor is a tough nut to crack. He's as stiff as if he'd swallowed a stick. On time like a Swiss watch. And the strictest teacher imaginable. I'll see what I can do. Time is pressing, it's Friday and the exam period starts on Monday.

07:30. Your professor's shiny Volvo rolls into the faculty parking lot. He's always on time to the second. His suit may be cheap, but it's immaculate. And he walks into the staff room with his hair perfectly parted. No one notices the small tattoo on his forearm.

When he arrives at your lecture, it's like a sensation: he's not wearing polished Oxfords, he's wearing sneakers. Pretty cool, pretty expensive sneakers. And WHITE socks! He's never been seen wearing anything like that before. And you swear his stomach is flatter. Normally his jacket always conceals a tummy bulge. But now his silhouette is perfectly slim. Unfortunately, it doesn't change anything about his lecture. He's way too fast, firing his questions like a sniper in the direction of the students who weren't paying attention. He's a pain in the ass, and that hasn't changed yet.

During the lunch break, the professor is seen wearing jeans for the first time. Pretty crisp fitting jeans. He really has a tight ass. And damn: Does he actually have a beard shadow? Normally he's always perfectly shaved. You're sitting in the canteen with your bruhs when he approaches you and asks "All gud, bruhs? can one of you give me uh fag? I must have forgotten mine at home…" You are far too surprised not to give him a cigarette. "You're such uh lifesaver, dude," says your professor and asks what you're up to this weekend. You tell him about your plans to go to the sports bar, work out in the gym and maybe take a trip to the beach on Sunday. "Sick thing" replies the professor. "See you around, bruhs!" He leaves you with your mouths hanging open.

The professor leaves the parking lot in his open-top Mustang with loud hip-hop music and screeching tires. You grin broadly. Your plan seems to be working. You are sure of it when you meet the next day at the gym. Your professor has a cool haircut, a stylish beard and looks like he's a regular at the tattoo parlor. You greet each other with a fist bump. And when he takes off his sweaty T-shirt after two hours, you say goodbye with a chest bump. Damn, this guy has a killer body.

On the beach, your prof disappears from time to time with random people and goes to the trunk of his Mustang. Shit, he's selling drugs. Hashish or apparently steroids and other stuff. And at sunset you see him lying on his towel smoking pot while one of the musclemen from the gym massages his nipples. Fuck, the boner in his surfer shorts is impressive. You're very pleased with yourself. You don't need to be afraid of tomorrow. It's a good thing you didn't waste the weekend studying.

Hot picture, you think to yourself on Monday morning when you see your professor's latest post on Instagram. And then you read the caption: "Sicc training 2 start the new wk. Now let's go kicc sum student ass. I luv it when i c the airheads sweating over my exam questions"

Pic found @marechais

[luveline]

hi i just got a haircut and feel very cute :) can i request r getting a haircut and the bau team fawning over it (with derek or spencer it’s up to you)

ty for ur request! this ended up being reader x the whole team, but heavily derek, and more subtly spencer !! fem!reader

cw readers hair was longer, and is now short

You take a deep, slow breath before you open the door that leads to the office. The first thing you see is Derek, to your horror, perched like he's waiting for you on the lip of his desk. 

Hotch must have known the agony with which you'd be subjected sitting across from someone like Derekz and he did it anyway. Handsome, caring, flirtatious to a fault, it was a recipe for heartbreak in the making. You quite like your new haircut; if Derek or the others don't feel the same you'll be mortified. 

You keep your head down as you walk to your desk. If you see Derek's expression, you'll lose all steam. You don't look up until you're close enough to smell his warm, understated cologne, raising a nervous hand to a button on your shirt. 

"Hi, Morgan," you say. 

"Oh, no, baby, we're on a first name basis," he says, raising his eyebrows at you. "Is this a joke?" 

"Am I usually joking?" you ask weakly. 

Derek shakes his head from side to side, crossing his arms over his chest, a ball of kinetic energy like the mere sight of you invigorates him. Safe to say he likes it, safer still when he brings a hand to his jaw and scrubs at it. "I don't even know what to say," he remarks, with all the intonation of a man disappointed. 

He sighs tiredly and pulls his phone out of his pocket, hitting the first button on his speed dial. Within seconds he's been answered, the phone pressed to his ear. "Hey, babygirl. You better get to the bullpen stat. It's an emergency."

"Derek, you'll give her a heart attack!" 

"Am I lying?" he asks. 

"Let up, Morgan," Emily says, coming up behind you to squeeze your shoulders. "It looks amazing. When did this happen?"

"Why wasn't I informed?" Derek asks.

"Oh my god!" JJ cheer-whispers, a stack of case files in her arms as she approaches from her office. "You cut your hair! It looks so good, why didn't you say anything?" 

"It was kind of a spur of the moment decision," you say, flushing from all the attention. 

Derek's still pretending to be mad, though an undeniable appreciation lines his mouth. Frowny brows, poorly hidden grin. 

"Spencer," Emily says, nudging a hyper-focused Spencer in the shoulder where he sits huddled at his desk. 

Spencer looks up from his book and it promptly falls between his hands. He reaches down to grab it in a panic and smacks his forehead on the desk. 

"Spence!" JJ yelps, rushing forward to help him. Her files slide out flat onto his desk as she pulls his head up. "Jesus, Spencer." 

You're about to lend a hand when a familiar and bubbly voice shouts unashamedly across the bullpen. "Oh my god! Y/N? Y/N! Oh my god, you look so pretty!" 

You spin on your heel to offer Penelope a thankful smile. "Pen, you said that before you even really saw it."

"I'm seeing it now, aren't I?" she asks, rushing forward in a cloud of curly blonde hair. The hot pink ruching on her corset top scratches your arms as she grabs you in a sideways hug. "We don't see you for a week and you cut all your hair off?" 

"Hey– hey!" Derek says. "Don't act like this isn't the best thing to happen to this department since Prentiss joined. You were something else before," —Derek nods appreciatively, a low whistle escaping pursed lips— "but now? You better clear your schedule, baby. Me and you are going out." 

"I think he's serious," Emily says, her jaw dropped. 

You raise a hand to your eyes, completely overwhelmed by the chaos. "Is something wrong?" Hotch asks from the balcony, killing your stolen reprieve immediately. You look up to find him watching over you all with a boss brand of disapproval. 

"Haircut," Penelope says nervously, pointing at your face. 

Hotch visually notices your hair. His smile is genuine. "It looks nice," he says. 

"Thank you, sir," you say, well and truly spent. In the best way possible, your team smothers you with love. If you'd known they'd react like this you would've cut your hair a long time ago. 

Except for what it's done to poor Spencer, nursing a sizable red welt atop his eyebrows. 

"You okay?" you ask, bending at the waist to smile at him apologetically. 

The excitement must be getting to him too, his usually pale cheeks kissed by a rosy twinge. "I'm fine." 

"Round table," Rossi suggests where he stands to Hotch's left, "before young Reid passes out."  

[luv4fushi]

jujutsu kaisen bf headcanons

jjk - gojo satoru, nanami kento, fushiguro megumi, itadori yuji, inumaki toge

content: just some of my delusions <3 fem!reader

warnings: word dump, other than that nothing else hehe

i started this account to write oneshots but they’re all like. 7k words…. and MORE. so now im posting this because i’ve been writing two different stories for 3 days now.

gojo satoru

he’s such a menace. he looovessss being all gross in public to annoy people.

he doesn’t tell you when he’s upset and overcompensates to hide it (but you can always tell)

he likes when you play with his hair and when you tell him good things about himself. being the strongest means he’s used to having a lot of responsibility (everyone relies on him). he likes it when you tell him he’s doing a good job and that he can rely on you, too.

he doesn’t get jealous easily (he pretends he does, but it never actually bothers him) because he knows he’s the best and he’s confident in your love. he’ll pretend to be all pouty and sad but at the scene of the crime he finds it SO FUNNY. “babe… you did NOT have to reject him like that.”

he’s rich (duh) so he randomly comes home with the most EXTRAVAGANT GIFTS. you’ll be like “wtf???” and he’d just stand there with the hugest grin on his face and be like “i thought of you!!”

he pulls the “don’t you love me?” card WAY TOO OFTEN. it works every time.

he hates when you cry. he thinks he’s bad at comforting people so he’ll be all nervous and afraid that you’ll hate him, but he’s actually good at it. he pulls you into his arms and lets you nuzzle into his neck. “i’m right here. i’ve got you, baby.” AHHHH

nanami kento

he’s so daddy material. not even in a sexual way. he’s just very responsible and reliable. he’s the kind of bf where you don’t have worry about planning trips and events because he handles it. he’s the bf you’d trust with your passport.

he loves to get massages from you and home cooked meals.

he likes upbeat, bubbly people because he’s relatively calm. he likes to watch you do cute things with a fond smile on his face. when you force him to participate in things, he’ll only grin and let you have your way with him.

he overthinks EVERYTHING. he knows he’s a workaholic so he’ll say things like, “i’m so sorry i’m late. i didn’t want to be caught up at work, but things just happened to be that way today.” and if you pretend to be upset he’ll be at your feet. “i’m sorry, love. i swear i love coming home to see you and spend time with you. don’t be upset, hm?”

HE’S SO … he makes you feel protected. he’s very stern with others, but around you he’s a lot more soft and flexible. “you don’t need to force yourself. i can do it for you, baby.” HEHEH he’s so lovely i love him

he’s very attentive. he never makes you feel like he’s not listening to you. he will quite literally drop whatever he’s doing to listen to you.

fushiguro megumi

he’s so SHY!!! he blushes really easily too. you have to initiate most of the touching and talking at the beginning of your relationship with him.

he actually doesn’t mind pda. he feels kind of prideful that he’s able to call you his. he LOVES holding your hand and he does that little thing where he’ll squeeze it when he knows you’re nervous.

everybody makes fun of him for being super soft with you. at first, he’s not really good with expressing his emotions, but give it three months and he’s the cheesiest bf ever. he loves using pet names in private with you.

he’s on the quieter side so he’s able to observe you REALLY well. got a new haircut? “did you cut your hair? it looks nice.” wearing some new jewelry? “it’s pretty. you should’ve told me, i would’ve bought you some more.” always cold? “i wore another sweater because i knew you’d be cold.” got your nails done? “why didn’t you choose the color i picked?” he’s SO thoughtful.

he’s such a cuddler. loves being held. loves holding you. literally would rather spend all day in bed with you than do anything else. he’s so AGH !! “why don’t you just sleep here tonight? i don’t want you to go.”

itadori yuji

he is SHAMELESS omg. he loves to talk about you and brag about you to anyone that will listen. “my girlfriend can do that, too!” + “my girlfriend says that i can’t do that, sorry.” + “my girlfriend doesn’t like things like that…” + “my girlfriend thinks these are cute!” + “my girlfriend is so pretty.”

he adores you so much he’s so cute about it. he literally dies when he’s without you. he’s SUPER clingy and doesn’t even try to hide it. everyone else thinks it’s soooo annoying but he doesn’t care.

he loves receiving forehead kisses, but because he’s literally like … curse offspring (LOL) he’s taller than you so he has to bend down while you tiptoe to kiss him. he also loves to pinch your cheeks at random times.

he’s a lot more buff than you think he is (cue the scene where he’s sprinting while carrying nobara) so hugging him is literally like hugging a huge bear.

he gives you a kiss EVERY TIME HE SEES YOU. he gets so sad when you refuse one. “what do you mean ‘not right now’? i don’t see the problem. i literally your boyfriend :(“

inumaki toge

he’s also a menace but not as much as gojo. he’s SO PLAYFUL and you always pretend to be annoyed but he knows you aren’t.

he’ll pull up and randomly give you food. that’s his love language. he loves feeding you. he’ll literally pull you on to the seat next to him and give you food if you say you haven’t eaten.

he LOVES giving you his sweaters. once he hands them to you, prepare to never give them back because he smells really good. you always smell like him to everyone else (that’s his goal)

he makes those super corny playlists that spell out a sentence. but he also makes playlists with music he knows you like to listen to. he’ll name them really funny things like “me and bae’s locked-in playlist”

he’s so witty. he makes you laugh so hard and then he pretends like your laughter doesn’t make him swell with pride. he LOVES to pepper you with kisses to hear you giggle.

he’s super cheesy and hilarious over text. he uses every pet name imaginable. “baby can you come wake me up in an hour?” + “angel i need u to give me back one sweater. just one.” + “princess ur being unreasonable … AN OVERNIGHT TRIP? i’m gonna jump.”

that’s all hehehe i love jjk boys sm