i would have waited five hundred more years for you
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you want me to work a night shift? the thing that killed nanami kento?
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Choso asking to itadori to call him once onii chan that's my favorite moment ever
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also ohmygod i totally forgot to update but i watched the hq movie a few days ago!!! it went by so quick i was just sitting there in the cinema and then BOOM end credits :’)
here’s a sneaky pic i took hehe i missed kuroo so much
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is the hq/jjk reader community still active here? i'm thinking of being more active and writing more but i dont feel like doing that without an audience, plus a lot of blogs i used to love are deactivated now 🤧😂
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hii can someone help me find a fic?
i remember the title of the fic was ‘first names’ and you’re at kuroo’s house with his family and his grandpa asks him to go get ice and u follow him and u start calling kuroo by his first name and he gets all flustered about it.
i think the writer’s name was hannah? but i can’t seem to find their blog anywhere now :’)
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i miss writing i’ll go back doing that soon i promise
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I'm once again thinking about Kento Nanami..
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thunderstorms - kuroo tetsurou
kuroo has a new girlfriend.
you’d heard it in the hallways; the boys had just gone back from a friendly match, and you were at your locker to take out something you can’t seem to remember now—a book, maybe?
though the hallway was mostly empty, it seemed like the boys hadn’t spotted you, so you continued on with your business when lev started whining to kai about how envious he was of kuroo’s new girlfriend.
new girlfriend.
you had froze in spot when the words entered your ear. your mind went blank, and you’re almost sure that time and space froze right along with you then.
slowly, you twisted your head towards their direction, and released a breath when you saw that kuroo wasn’t with them, shoulders sagging. you had, however, accidentally made eye contact with kenma, and a slight nod from him had been all the confirmation you needed.
it’s not like you can blame kuroo, though. after the both of you had ended it during that argument two months ago, you had given kuroo the cold shoulder for weeks.
and kuroo, being kuroo, had held on tight to his own ego and went on with his days pretending like you didn’t exist, too.
basically, it’s been radio silent between the two of you. though, in the back of your mind, you had assumed it was all just a game, albeit stretched on too long, to see who’d cave first.
up until that hallway incident, that is.
as if that wasn’t already enough, new gossip started to surface as well about how perfect she was for kuroo—she never failed to come to his matches, was always supportive of him, and just all around perfect, everyone had commented.
kuroo has a new girlfriend, so you’re wondering why he’s standing outside your door at 2am during a thunderstorm.
he’s looking at you with his all too familiar honey eyes, which softens as you finally take him in. he’s head to toe drenched in rainwater. his usual bedhead is wet, sticking to his forehead, and his lips slowly part, as if wanting to say something.
“kuroo,” you start. lightning flashes in the background, and you blink twice, thrice, to see if it is actually him standing on your porch, and not your brain playing games. “what are you doing here?”
“you love thunderstorms,” he finally breathes out, his chest rising and falling quicker than usual. he ran here, you realize.
you nod once, “i do.”
“you love me, too.” kuroo continues.
you furrow your brows, and raise up a palm to stop him. “you have a girlfriend, kuroo. go home.” you swear you can hear your heart crack the moment you said girlfriend out loud.
“i don’t,” kuroo shakes his head and his hands reach out to take your palm—and blame it on the situation or the time, you let him.
his hands are cold and dripping, which usually you’d protest against, but right now there’s something in the way kuroo’s looking at you that keeps you from saying anything.
something that looks a lot like yearning.
“i hear she’s perfect for you,” you whisper. the words don’t even seem real to you, yet you say it anyway. it’s not right that kuroo is here, you think.
“she is,” he swallows. “perfect.”
you start to pull your hand away from his, but his grip is unrelenting. “i don’t need to hear it kuroo. go home.”
“she’s perfect, you know,” he continues.
this is insane, you laugh silently. “so you ran all this way to gloat?”
you turn to step back inside, not wanting to hear any more of his new relationship, but he holds you back still. his hands keep their grip on yours as he steps closer.
“but she’s not you.”
you flick your gaze back to him, lightning flashing once more.
“i was empty for two months without you,” he admits. the rain pours harder behind him, and the sane part of you is telling you to come inside, but you know kuroo, and he’s not moving until he’s finished. “i thought she could fill back the hole in my heart, replace maybe even a speck of you, but i was wrong. dead wrong.”
“she came to my matches, but all the while i kept looking for you. i was so fixated on looking for you that i was off my game. coach even had to sub me out once.”
“kuroo–”
“no, wait,” he interrupts. “you can ask kenma if you don’t believe me. he called me out several times about it.”
“after the match, when we were having barbeque together, i was waiting for a comment to tease me for getting fish instead of beef, until i realized there won’t be one because you weren’t there.”
“and she never gets my jokes about docosahexaenoic acid. even after i explained to her that it’s good for the brain and—”
“—found in fish. that’s why you like mackerel so much,” you finish for him.
“exactly,” he whispers. his gaze is now pleading, and your heart strains at the sight. you know he means all of it, because he’s rambling. it’s not often kuroo does that.
“i’m not with her anymore.” kuroo’s hands move to interlace his fingers with yours. “i never was, not really.”
you nod again, feeling too many things at once.
the wind is cruel tonight, your hands freezing, but kuroo hasn’t held your hand in too long, so you stay like this.
“i haven’t let anyone take your seat at my place either, you know. that’s your spot, no one could take it,” he says.
“tell me why you’re here, kuroo.” you ask, even though his eyes are telling you everything.
“take me back.” his tone is pleading too, now. and you can feel his longing in the air, palpable. you think it’s mixed in with yours, too. “i’ll do anything.”
“kuroo,” you breathe, but he stops you again.
“tetsurou. not kuroo.” he corrects. “not for you.”
and there’s a silent pause, before you whisper, “okay.”
“okay, what? okay as in you’ll call me tetsurou again, or okay as in you’ll take me back?” he moves his hand to your jaw, tilting it up for him to see better. “you look perfect, by the way.”
“thought you didn’t want perfect.”
“i want you. it’s only you for me, no one else.” his face is inches from yours now, the tension borderline tangible. “so what do you say, kitten?”
you smile up at him, “okay as in both, then.”
and he kisses you, as lightning flashes for the third time that night.
read the prequel
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This man, I swear to God.
God, I love them.
#stels;rambles#stels;animes#i am putty rn#my heart is like so full and so empty at the same time#i just rewatched this anime so#i’m wallowing in a pool of tears
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“And now I want you to know, Rhysand, that I love you. I want you to know … ” His lips trembled, and I brushed away the tear that escaped down his cheek. “I want you to know,” I whispered, “that I am broken and healing, but every piece of my heart belongs to you. And I am honored—honored to be your mate.”
Thank you to all 10k of you who have joined me on this journey, I thought it no better celebration than to post this phenomenal Feysand art by the greatest @lulybot 🤍🤍🤍
It was near impossible to pick my favourite Feysand quote, what would yours be?
All characters belong to @sarahjmaas ✨
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"you're doing it wrong, baby."
the man before you only huffs in annoyance, a pout forming on his glossed lips. you stifle a laugh as he sulks, his fingers working to untie the sad excuse of a bow that held your heel in place.
"let me try again," satoru half pleads from between your legs, "i promise i'll get it right this time."
in truth, you're enjoying the view of your boyfriend kneeling at your feet while he attempts to tie your lace-up heels. your foot is strategically placed between his legs, pretty white-painted toenails on display as he tries and fails to correctly strap up your shoe.
hell, he's kneeling in a tailored suit, and it's messing with your brain.
you're going on a date tonight - it's a fancy restaurant that satoru's been dying to try out. it'd been a pain in the ass to pick out an outfit, not because you lacked clothes, your boyfriend ensured your wardrobe was always filled to the brim with the latest fashion. no, rather, it was because he insisted you wear matching outfits.
his problem, however, was your choice of shoe. your favourite pair of black lace-up heels was your pick for the evening. he'd asked to do them up for you and you thought it was going to be a 30-second thing.
you've now been sitting here for 10 minutes.
"what the fuck is this shit?" he mumbles to himself, irritated. "why is this so complicated??"
another attempt and he's given up, leaning back a fraction to critique his work. horrible, as expected.
you laugh as satoru sighs loudly, leaning his head on the exposed skin of your thigh in exasperation. his white locks tickle your flesh, and you take it upon yourself to rake your manicured nails through his hair, fingertips scratching his undercut affectionately.
you think he's adorable like this - absolute putty in your hands. he nuzzles into your skin, leaving soft kisses on the plush of your thigh as you dutifully work your fingers over his scalp.
"how about i do one, and you can watch and do the other?" you suggest.
he perks up quickly, icy blue irises sparkling. he nods, a beaming smile settling on his lips. he shifts his weight and leans back to give you space.
"so, you take these, 'round the back, and twist, then under and wrap around the ankle, twist one more time, and - boom!" you finish tying the bow on the back of your calf and smile.
satoru's eyebrow raises immediately, an expression half of disgust and half of confusion finding its place on his features. he squints at you, "you expect me to do that?"
"precisely," you respond with a smug grin.
there's a subtle challenge in your answer, and satoru drinks it like water. a challenge? he'll do it, easy. he switches your feet, sticking his tongue out as he focuses on his task.
you're watching him, amused by the way his brows furrow in concentration as he repeats the steps. around, the straps are crossed around your foot. twist, the straps are twisted. under, the straps are hooked beneath the heel. wrap, the straps are crossed and taken around your leg. twist.
he's done it. a fast learner, indeed.
you can't help the way your lips curve into a smile, applauding his efforts. his crystalline eyes are on you again - how could they not be? you're nothing short of gorgeous in that dress - pleading for some kind of praise.
"thanks, babe." you say, bending to place a kiss on his collarbone.
(he hopes to god there's a lipstick stain there so he can show everyone in that restaurant who he belongs to.)
satoru, being the most amazing boyfriend out there, helps you get on your feet, hand resting on the small of your back as he guides you from your apartment to his car.
"you look stunning tonight, love." he says while grinning like a lovestruck fool as you slip into the passenger seat.
"i know," you answer, shooting him a smile that gets him weak in the knees, "you picked the dress, after all."
you were going to be the death of him.
tagging: @sad-darksoul
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𐑺 ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ APPLES, ORANGES & ALMOSTS, GETŌ SUGURU
all roads seem to lead to your ex boyfriend. even the ones you took to forget him.
summary. fem reader. ex boyfriend getō. a little angst. right person wrong time. i feel like this fits him idk. tattooed getō. wc, 850 words.
note. my first little piece of suguru and i hope i did him justice :) i’m sorry i couldn’t give him a happy soft scenario though alhaja but it’s also not all bad yk. a little hopeful ❤︎
getō suguru was, is— a lot of things.
two years ago he was love; today he’s a lesson— and maybe in a few more years he’ll be just a memory. he was— is handsome, dark hair framing his features despite the way it’s still tied back the same, tattoos inked from elbow to wrist, and a love that still makes you forget to exhale when you see him across the grocery store.
but he still smiles at you when his gaze lifts to meet yours, despite the way you know your eyes are a little wide— with shock maybe when he takes a few steps towards you.
you manage a hello, saying it like he’s just an old friend. you remember to exhale with it, and getō smiles at you as he replies with kindness, because at the root of who he was— suguru had always been kind.
you’re still staring at him, a little starry-eyed. like the love that was there years ago never left, rushing it’s way back to the surface in a way that makes your skin ache. “how’ve you been?” he asks, tattooed arm stretching so he can rub awkwardly at the back of his neck. probably a normal reaction to his ex staring at him like he’s got three heads in the supermarket isle.
“i’ve been good.” you reply this time, a little steadier than the last because you’re still breathing fine. he’s buying apples you realise, there’s oranges in your arms and you notice the way getō’s gaze scans your left hand as you answer. you’re looking for baby formula in his basket, but you can’t deny the relief that eases your bones when you come up empty.
“how’ve you been, sugu? it’s been a while.” your voice is warm, resonant with a pull to it that has him closing his eyes with his next smile. maybe it’s the way you say his name like that, it’s the first time he’s heard it since the break up— yet it still does something to his heart, the same as it always has.
“yeah, good. i’ve missed you.” getō says so easily as his lips curl around the words and you’re sure your eyes give off a faint light,
“yeah, me too. it’s about time we met in a supermarket, like in the movies.” you reply, a little lighthearted now that you’ve grown more comfortable with the conversation. maybe it was the sort of ease your ex boyfriend still brought to your life.
it was never a messy break up afterall. right person, wrong time is what you’d told yourself in the months leading up till now, an almost. we almost worked.
you open your mouth, to say something— to almost say something. is your mobile number still the same? do you still live in the apartment in the city? do you still take your coffee the same way? maybe the rest of the years may turn out differently if you do, maybe he didn’t have to be a memory.
but you don’t. you just watch the sort of affectionate look getō gives you before he gives you another kind smile. it’s a little awkward again, but the words unsaid feel so heavy you barely realise.
“i should go. it was nice to see you.” almost was a big word for you, a consistent, you feel it everywhere. almost home, almost happy, almost his. you don’t feel as together as you did a few minutes ago as you go to the checkout, you’re both paying with different cards at different tills.
your fruit will rot in separate bowls. he’ll buy oranges next time. you think you’ll get blueberries instead.
you think it’s a little embarrassing when you find yourself watching across the space at getō still, watching the way he bags his groceries and you hope your wanting doesn’t show as you struggle with your own.
he was the first person you felt both wildly unsure and unwaveringly certain of. there are rare moments when another soul dips near yours, like when stars once a year brush the earth. such a constellation was he to you, and suddenly you were stuck between wanting to wait for him and wanting to forget him. you weren’t sure which one was better, so somehow you were doing both at the same time.
you walk alone to the parking lot and stare at the sky. you can remember the way you’d clutch getō’s arm in your mind, still feel the warmth of him beside you despite the way you watch his car drive out of the parking lot now.
but you give yourself a few minutes before you leave. your heart stings, you wish you could kiss him— like big, fat kisses. or angels. or stars. or something— anything to feel your lips back on his.
your hands shake as you pull out your phone to type, staring at the message history that you still don’t have it in your heart to delete yet. you don’t know if it’s your imagination that notices the grey typing icon at the bottom left of the screen, but it leaves just as quickly as you scan over your own text and let your finger hover over the send button;
to, suguru ❤︎: could you come over?
© gojoath. do not copy, repost, modify or translate my works. please refrain from copying my layouts / themes.
#suguru#THIS IS SOOOOOOO#AAAARGH#one of my favorite types of geto fics to read are the ones like these#like theres just something in between the paragraphs that makes these kinda fics soooooo#heart wrenching
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you know, people trash wattpad and shit but going on the app and seeing how much has changed since i not only last logged into my wattpad account but since i created my account when i was a teenager breaks my heart. you just can tell that the people in control of wattpad chose the route of money over the quality and nostalgia of the app. the ads are atrocious when reading something, an ad practically after every chapter literally will cause a reader not to even want to read anymore (which i wouldn’t even mind the ad if you know the ad revenue went towards the writer cause it benefits them…the ugly ad is interrupting this writer’s readers) there’s no newsfeed on wattpad app anymore which literally defeats the purpose of following people on there if you can’t see their announcements and when they update/create something other than going on their profile. like truly it is disheartening seeing what used to be one of the top free reading sites where people read stories just change so much, you know 😭
#this is so real#like sometimes i log in again after years to reread or at least just look up my old fav books#and they’re either not even there anymore bc it got capitalized into a film or something#or its still there but 90% of the chapters are locked and like require payment#like i’m all for creators earning money they deserve to get paid for what they make#but in the beginning wattpad wasnt about that#like what happened to writing and reading just for funsies#ffs
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It's Too Much
pairing: Choso Kamo x fem!reader
nsfw: dom!reader, inexperienced!Choso, premature ejaculation
word count: 1.5k
author's note: this took third place in the poll but i was extra inspired to write this because of a tiktok my friends sent me. also i'm ignoring the fact that choso has brothers who probably hugged him (maybe?) for the plot of this thirst.
description: Choso has been touch-starved for so long, so when you touch him, it can be a lot, maybe even too much.
Choso has never felt another's body against his own that wasn’t attempting to hurt him. For all 150 years he’s been alive up until he met you, physical contact meant pain. But now, he’s beginning to learn that that isn't completely true.
There are similarities between a touch of pain versus…pleasantness might be the word—he hasn’t sorted it out completely yet—as a feeling lingers after contact. A strike leaves an aching bruise, the afflicted area reminding him of the injury whenever the slightest pressure is applied, but when you place a gentle hand on Choso’s shoulder while speaking to him, it leaves behind something entirely different.
The best way he can describe the initial feeling is as a warmth, and not just due to the intrinsic heat from where your flesh meets his, but one that swells in his chest and spreads out to the rest of his body. After you leave, your touch doesn’t require a mark on his skin or a painful sting like a bruise needs to be remembered, rather, the outline of where your fingers laid on his shoulder simmers on his skin for the rest of the day.
You fluster him with your casual touches–placing your hand on his forearm or leaning your head on his shoulder–but it helps him work up the courage to start acting on his own desires to feel you. He appreciates how you let him take his time as he explores the little things, like the feeling of holding your hand, intertwining his roughened fingers with yours. He looks up to your face, making sure what he's doing is okay, and you give him a gentle smile, telling him he's doing great. There is that warmth in his chest again. He realizes he likes the feeling of you praising him—a lot.
Soon, he starts asking for more: to cup your cheeks, pet your hair. One day, he asks to hold your body against his on the bed, feeling your softness and warmth while working hard to regulate the influx of emotions your proximity inspires. Yet, it gets the better of him and he asks something that’s been on his mind for a while: if he can kiss you.
You accept, of course, and with your lips so soft and sweet, things quickly develop, escalating to the point where you are on top of him, straddling his big legs, and kissing down his bare chest to his waistband. He tries to keep still, but your lips feel so good and his hips betray that, gently thrusting up and into you.
“S-sorry,” Choso says, “I…I can’t control it.”
You look up from his chest. “It’s okay, Choso,” you say as you drag your hands down his abs to his waistband, deepening the pink dusted upon his cheeks, “It seems like you want more.”
“Mhmm,” Choso whimpers, watching as you tuck your fingertips into his waistband and pull it down, freeing his sensitive erection.
Your hands wrap around his length and his eyes flutter closed in bliss. Being touched there is a new sensation for Choso and it’s stirring up a feeling he hasn’t had much experience with.
He thinks it’s arousal, which is, according to Mahito, what causes humans to “fuck.” But Mahito always spoke about fucking in a negative light, describing it as disgusting, primal thing humans do. That perspective doesn't make sense to Choso anymore because whatever you are igniting in him, if it is that aroused feeling Mahito described, feels so good he thinks he would die if you stopped.
“Do you like this, Choso?” you ask as you stroke him. Hearing his name fall so sweetly from your lips sends a shiver through Choso’s body.
“I-I do,” he says, moaning when you pay special attention to his pink tip, stimulating the sensitive area with your fingers in a tight circle. He’s been unconsciously bucking his hips up into your fist, chasing more of this unfamiliar sensation that has pressure to build up in his stomach.
“Then, would you like it if I put it inside of me?”
He hadn’t considered that as a possibility, already so pleasure-drunk from feeling your palm against him, but there’s no way he can refuse your offer.
“Yes. Yes—fuck—please do that.”
“Alright, Choso,” you say, getting off of him, “You just sit still, okay?”
His breathy whine tells you that the last thing he wants to do is sit still. You smile, he looks so cute when he’s desperate.
“Just a little bit longer,” you say, intentionally moving slower than necessary just to see how long the poor curse can hold out.
He watches as you pull down your underwear, and the second you remove it, he grabs you by the wrist and pulls you back on top of him. Then he’s pressing hot, sloppy kisses to your neck, devouring it like a man starved. His passion and intensity make up for his lack of experience, though you note he’s getting the hang of it.
Choso’s barrage of affection is halted by a surprised gasp when you grip his erection and align yourself with it. The hunger in your eyes reminds him of how out of his element he is, but he doesn’t let it scare him, rather, he lets it feed his desire of making you feel as good as he does.
You hold the tip to your entrance and Choso’s breath hitches when he feels the wetness and warmth of your hole. Slowly, as to not overwhelm, you sink down on him, and he moans—sweet and unbridled—from the way your walls hug him.
“I’ve—hah—never…felt something like this,” he says, eyes pressed closed, wrinkling the thin black mark running just underneath them.
Your hands fall onto his built chest as you make it all the way down on him, driving the entirety of his long, slender dick deep within you. His hands fly to your hips when it happens, but then one grabs for your wrist on his chest, circling his fingers around it, needing you to help him through this new sensation.
“Feels good?” you ask, your voice breathy.
“Feels s’good,” he says, “Too good.” He shifts around underneath you; the pressure he was feeling earlier when you were touching him is becoming inescapable, sweeping through his stomach like a vicious undercurrent.
“I’m going to start moving now, 'kay?” you say.
Choso nods but is woefully unprepared for when you begin to lift your hips up and down, pushing his length through your gummy walls. Your movements on top of the information already flooding his senses–your warm skin, rapid heartbeat, fluttering eyes—it's so overwhelming. His head falls back, and even though you’re going at such a slow pace, it feels like your walls are milking him, intent on making the tightness in his core snap.
Choso knows it’s too much for him, but watching your eyes close in pleasure and your fingers dig into the skin on his chest, it makes him want to keep going, to not cum just yet. But with the sight of you naked on top of him and the way your insides are squeezing him, not cumming is a near impossible task. He wants to do a good job for you, to hear you tell him that, but he's sure he won’t last.
“Fuck, I’m s-ah-sorry,” Choso whines, “I can’t…if you keep moving, I can’t-“
“You’re gonna cum already, Choso?” you ask, a wickedness in your voice, “You feel that good?”
You’re teasing him, despite how you find your view beyond erotic: he’s a squirming mess underneath you, with his eyebrows pressed together, face flushed with warmth, and fingers tight around your wrist as he just fights the urge to cum.
“Yes—ngh—you feel s’good, s’good-I’m sorry,”—you feel his cock twitch inside you—“I can’t, I’m sorry, m’gonna-“
He groans, thrusting his hips up into you with a force that requires you to grab onto him to stay put, and empties his load deep inside you, sweet moans interspersed with apologies.
You’d be more disappointed in him for not lasting long, but with this being his first time in a while, you’re willing to forgive—especially after being treated to his endless, pretty noises.
When he comes down, you press a kiss on his cheek, “Too much, Choso?” you ask.
“I’m sorry, you just felt so good,” he says in between pants. His poor body is shaking, his chest is heaving, and a pink flush burns all over his pale skin.
“It’s okay,” you say, “I enjoyed that.” Only, you wish you had been able to cum, too. Seeing him writhe underneath you has your cunt aching for attention.
He sits up, and you feel his cock move inside you. “Still, I wanted to last for you.”
“Sweet boy,” you say, pushing a few strands of dark hair out of his face, “You did great. I know it’s been a while since you’ve done anything like this.”
He’s still pouting, but his frown turns into a smile when an idea hits him. He flips you over with ease—sometimes you forget how strong he is—and pulls out of you, keeping your legs open so he can bring his face down to your cunt, wetness mixed with his own cum seeping out of it.
He presses a kiss to your inner thigh. “Let me make it up to you, I haven’t gotten to feel you on my tongue yet.”
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⌗︙・teaching choso female anatomy ⸜⸜・
i just want to show virgin choso how human body works.
he is laying in between your legs as you show him female anatomy. he's completely focus on the fact that he's completely different down there from you.
"and this is a clit. you use it for pleasure." you explain, trying hard not to press down on it. you're already getting wet and this is supposed to be a biology lesson, not a sex ed.
"why would you wanna feel pleasure here?" he points at your pussy, his fingers almost touching your folds. you take a deep breath, you didn't think he's that inexperienced.
"because it feels good and when you touch it, girls get wet and they are ready to... mate." the explanation is a bit wacky but you think it's enough for choso.
"are you ready to mate?" he asks, his fingers gathering your wetness. your breath hitches, you haven't realized you were this wet.
"do you wanna mate with me?" his questions are making your head spin. you aren't sure what you should tell him, because you want to fuck him so badly.
"i think we should call it a day." you say, pulling your panties up. choso looks like a kicked puppy. suddenly, he jumps to hug your legs, trying to get the panties off again.
"im sorry," he sniffles, "i am gonna be a good boy. please teach me."
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