Cuddles || Mori X Reader

cuddles || mori x reader

summary: mori comes over to see you during a thunderstorm 

tw// dragons, mentions of weight 

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Accidentally Gushing Over Them

SMAU

AOT x gn!reader

warning(s): none besides lots of swearinggg

a/n: teehee silly little idea I had!! Love you guys :3

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taglist: @d1lfluvr @plutowrites @carmillous @pretty-pop-princess-hs @mossygreys (if you’d like to be added jus lemme know!)

CONNIE’S “man fuck that kid” IM ROLLING BYE LMAOOOO THATS HILARIOUS

first date + kiss w/ the aot boys

modern! headcanons my brain requested while trying to fall asleep w/ little college major details i wanted to include hehe, also all these boys are extreme simps so, lol 

includes: armin, connie, eren, jean, levi, and reiner

(a/n): pls don’t clown me on connie’s manga panel, could not find a good one for the life of me (◡﹏◡✿)

Armin would definitely be a man of culture, he’d most likely be an anthropology major with some kind of STEM minor! I can totally see him just loving the idea of language development and social issues like gentrification. He just loves educate and involve himself with anything surrounding human behavior and culture.

After some weeks in the same sociology lecture you two share, he would ask you out on a date and for sure be super nervous. 

“Hey (Y/N)! Wait up!” he’d say while trying to collect his items, and himself to be honest. “I was thinking, maybe, we could go on a coffee date? Maybe enjoy some evening music this weekend? Only if you want to, obviously!”

“Now why wouldn’t I want to go on a date with you Armin?” 

After his shocked expression he invites you to meet up with him at a local coffee shop near the university you two attend. The small shop would be super cozy, fairy lights dangling from one side to the other with dim lighting. There’s plenty of filled bookshelves along with loud sounds of expresso machines but it just has good vibes.

“I usually come here to read and people-watch, I’ve never brought anyone here before,” he’d confess while sitting you down near a window to look at the city street. 

“How come?”

“Like to keep this place a secret,” and you can’t help but swoon that he lets you in his little secret. 

After the coffee is done with and the macaroons on the table are non-existent, he takes you to a jazz lounge nearby. You two sit near the bar at a small table that was far enough for you two to chatter but close enough to watch the band play. He recounts the time he stumbled in one day because he thought he was at the bar his friends were at but to his surprise, he was greeted with a sly saxophone. He tells you how ever since that day, he has been in love with jazz music. 

When the bread pudding is gone along with some white wine, you two decide it’s late. He’s gathering his things and slings his jacket over his shoulder as you two are heading out but the band starts playing their own rendition of ‘These Foolish Things (Remind Me of You)’ and he just has to stop and watch the woman on stage sing. 

You can feel yourself have a butterfly brawl in your stomach at just watching how beautiful he looked in the red mood lighting as he sways slowly. He would turn to you and wrap his arm around you. 

“This was the song that made me come back the next weekend,” he confesses. 

And the mood just feels right! So he leans down to give you a nice kiss, and you two just walk out as soon as the singer finishes her song, hand-in-hand. 

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HOLD MY BOOKS ANYTIME

Let me Hold Your Books

who - takashi morinozuka x reader

word count - 2.4k

summary - takashi realizing his feelings for you 

an - thought this was a cute idea, possibly make this a series or at least a part two ?? i wanna write more for ohshc, so lmk what you think!

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UNDERRATED THIS WAS SO GOOD OMFG lowkey made me mad tho bc i want what they have LMAOOO /lh

Kissed by Moonlight: Jean Kirschtein x Reader

My first AoT fic for the love of my life <3 Will there be more? Likely--but almost exclusively of him!

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Jean Kirschtein x female Reader

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Modern AU, Jean and Reader live in a cliff beachside town, childhood best friends to lovers, fluff, pining, confession, first kiss

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Reader and Jean are early college, aged roughly 18-20

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It’s 3 a.m. and you’re nowhere close to sleeping when your best friend texts you.

Are you awake?

Your eyes focus on his name headlining the top of your screen. You supposed you should have his contact saved under a nickname, or with emojis, or something indicative of your friendship. But not even his last name appears; it’s just Jean, in standard silver letters, but some part of that makes it more romantic, you think, a wonderful familiarity lost in the simplicity. No need to put on airs with him, no need to pretend your relationship is supposed to be quirky or perfect. Pretentious never suited him.

Of course I am, you type back. Your fingers felt like they might bleed with the weight. I always am when I think of you.

But you back off; you delete the words before your foolish, lovesick heart can get too carried away. If he saw your typing bubble, he doesn’t indicate; his own bubble pops up, sending a caring message within a few seconds.

Because if you’re not, don’t worry about it. Go back to sleep.

A string tugs around your heart and pulls it into your stomach.

I’m awake.

As soon as you hit send he calls you, his handsome face lighting up the pitch black of your phone screen. He wasn’t even aware of this picture of him, you’re pretty sure. His eyes are closed and his head is thrown back, smiling, laughing at a joke Connie made; his face is colored by the orange and pink and yellow of a dying sun, too lost in his own world to realize the beauty that he brought to yours.

While others had embarrassing pictures of their friends sleeping or in ridiculous filters as their contact photos, you weren’t ashamed of this one. He was a serious boy, always under so much stress; he second-guessed himself when he didn’t need to, brilliant brain trapped under so many questions and doubts. It was nice to have a reminder of him smiling, his heart unbound and carefree, if only for you to enjoy.

You admired it a moment more before swiping to accept the call, nestling the phone against your ear. “Hey, J.”

Despite your insomnia, your voice was still rusty. He noticed instantly, clucking his tongue to take on that mother hen tone he so often directed at Connie and Sasha whenever they were doing something dumb. “You said you were awake.”

“I am!”

“Don’t sound like it.”

You sighed, rolling onto your side to nuzzle deeper into your pillow. Sometimes, if you strained really hard, you could make it smell like him. “Well, then I don’t know how else to convince you I am.”

He hummed, dropping the tone. “Sorry. I just worry about you.” The string tightened. “Bad night?”

Not now. Not since I’m talking to you. “No, just...there’s a lot on my mind.” It wasn’t a lie. There always was when it came to him.

“I’m with you on that.” He yawned, and even through the speaker you heard the adorable miniscule moans playing from his throat. “I think I can help.”

“Why are you lecturing me when you’re also awake?” you teased, cut off by his curt laugh.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be there in 5.” Just as you nearly hung up, he hastily tagged on, “And give me back my Scouts sweatshirt. You’ve had it for long enough.”

“No promises.”

“Do--”

An elephant never forgets, you thought as you hung up, slamming the phone back down onto your blankets. Running your hands down your face, through your hair, trying to make it look presentable, only to be left needy and frustrated instead. It wasn’t the first time you had stayed up late together, messy with wet hair and soft skin. The friend group had a habit of staying up late with sleepovers and videochatting--and even you and Jean, alone, when Connie and Sasha had passed out after their soda hauls. Like the total Dad friend he was, he made sure everyone else was out before he fell asleep--even lulling your insomniac self into the great beyond with a hand in your hair and gentle words. Sometimes you wondered if even that were a dream, cruel memories implanted by your brain due to intricate fantasies you wove for comfort, but even if they were, they helped calm your heart and rest your mind.

Pulling the covers back was a cruel awakening; the night air was chilling against your skin, goosebumps rising over the ridges of your legs. With a sigh you pulled on some leggings and your shoes, rifling through your closet for his coveted lacrosse sweatshirt. There was good reason as to why it was his favorite, and why you stole it so often. It was thick and cushiony, nearly waterproof, with the wings emblem printed on the front and his last name stitched across the back of the shoulders, warm and cuddly.

For some reason, having Kirschtein embroidered across your back filled you with a sense of security and warmed you to the furthest corners of your heart.

Lights flashed outside your window, and careful to keep your housemates sleeping you opened the screen and snuck out, shimmying down the pipe drain and landing on your feet outside the house. You dashed over to his car and he’s there to greet you, throwing open your door from the inside.

“Hey,” you whispered as soon as you got in, brushing back your hair flyaways from the wind.

Jean leaned over to hug you, keeping his right hand on the wheel while his left arm crossed his body, tucking you close against his neck. His stubbled chin brushed against your forehead. “You came,” he said, releasing you, as if nestled right in the crook of his shoulder wasn’t the most peaceful place on earth.

“We were on the phone less than five minutes ago,” you said, crossing your arms indignantly. “You think I’d ditch you like that?”

“Mmm, maybe, princess.” He flicked your nose before shifting the car back into drive. “You do have a history of flaking on me.”

“That was once, and I had just come back from surgery,” you sputtered, clicking your seatbelt. “I’m sorry I was knocked out and couldn’t answer your text.”

“Yeah, you should be.”

Impossible boy, but damn if you didn’t love him.

Jean cleared his throat as he pulled out of the driveway. You tried to ignore the way his arm rested behind your seat as he looked behind him, ever so cautious, calculating, and caring.

“Where are we going?” you asked, trying to focus on the lights spearing the darkness of night.

“The beach,” he replied, switching on his high-beams. “It’s somewhere I go for peace and quiet. Figured it might work for you, too.”

When he rested his hand on the gearshift, large and tantalizingly warm, it took everything in you not to grab it. He might not even notice, and if he did, would he think much of it? Physical affection was rife in your friend group, from Connie swinging his arms around to Sasha giving headpats for even the tiniest achievements. More than once since childhood you’ve fallen asleep in someone’s arms or had someone’s head in your lap while watching a movie. But in the last year there was an electric charge between you and him, a tension not unwelcome between every glance, as if every almost-touch was worth more than gold; his skin would feel wonderful, but oh, it was that almost-touch, fingertips ghosting over knuckles and lips skimming cheeks, that intoxicated you, made you so desperate for him.

“That sounds nice,” you choked out, giving way to the temptation of his hand so close to your leg. You rest yours on top of his, feather-light dragging against the skin. “Thank you.”

Jean swallowed, but gave you a smile, flipping his hand to cage yours underneath his, molding it against the knob of his gearshift. After that he kept his eyes on the road, but it gave you a pass to stare at him, how the moonlight illuminated his features.

The sweet smell of a barbershop filled the air, mingling with the salty spray from the cliffside ocean just to your left. It led you to examine his hair--swept back underneath his backwards baseball cap, his undercut fresh and fuzzy beneath. Where could he have gotten his hair cut at 3 a.m.? He’d likely never tell you, and you’d likely never know, but that was his little mystery to contain, just as you had your own.

Light glinted off the black studs in his ears and the silver chain hooked around his neck. A devil in the details but an angel in this car. Why was he so dressed up so late at night, when you were still in your pajamas? Had he even gone to bed?

Like a good boy he kept his eyes on the road, the only communication when he squeezed your hand when he used it to change gears. He swore he’d teach you how to drive his car one day, but you sensed he liked the control it gave him. He was competitive, if those detention slips and fistfights with Eren taught you anything. He liked being in the know.

Plus, not just anyone drove his car.

Tension mounted until you thought it would break, snapping like steel, but before it could he was smoothing the car to a stop and shifting your hand into park. Ever the gentleman, he got out first and hopped over the hood to your side, opening it with ease. The absence of his hand on yours was sobering, but then he extended it again to help you out of the car, reviving the butterflies, and held it as he led you to the front.

“This ground’s uneven,” he muttered, like it could excuse his actions. “Don’t trip.”

A fall off this cliff would mean certain death, so it was nice he cared. “So considerate,” you whispered, only met with his scoff.

“Yeah, well, if I didn’t have you, then I would be stuck with Connie and Sasha alone,” he moaned. “And don’t get me wrong, I love them to death, but sometimes I need peace and quiet, and you provide that for me. So no, I don’t want you tripping over your own ass and falling off a cliff.”

He flexed his hand so you could feel his strength. A rush washed over you. He trusted himself to keep you safe, and you trusted him, so much that if you had to choose him or the sun, you’d bask in his warmth every single day.

“Thanks. That means a lot.” It was the quietest mumble, but he heard it, deftly running his thumb over your knuckles before pulling away.

By now you were both comfortably settled against the hood of his car, facing the horizon over the edge of the cliff. A familiar spot, though tucked away and hidden from sight of most roads, but stunning, worth the seclusion for the moonrise it allowed you to see. Darkness faded in the light of the moon, bright though crescented, stitched among a canvas of stars above an azure blue sea, stretching out to the end of the world. Almost its own proper working galaxy, a private show from the cosmos that Jean wanted to share with you. At this elevation, you felt like you could reach out and wrap a star in your palm.

If he came here often to think...did this somehow remind him of you?

“This is…perfect,” you said, all air stolen from your lungs at the sight before you. He had somehow both caused and cured your insomnia.

Unbeknownst to you, his gaze lingered on your face, memorizing how wide your smile was, how your features were awash in moonlight, glazed in silver and dripping with saline. And to think he had caused it, he had done something as simple as driving you to a new spot had caused you so much happiness, tugged his stomach in a funny type of way.

“I wanted to share this with you,” he admitted. “I thought it might help.”

“Oh, Jean.” You turned to him, eyes aglow with candelight. “Thank you.”

Just the way you said his name sent a sharp feeling digging into his sides, satisfying, like reaching an itch he couldn’t quite scratch. A million thoughts leapt from his brain onto his tongue--You’re beautiful, I want you, I love you--but he swallowed them down like medicine, letting them burn like lead. If you didn’t feel the same, it would ruin a beautiful moment. He couldn’t do that to you. Not on this night. Not in this special place.

“You’re shivering,” he whispered, and he took off his outer shirt, a button-down one size too big that acted like a jacket over his henley tee, to drape loosely around your shoulders. He liked to layer his outfits; they were like barriers to his heart, yet he shed these layers to keep you warm, to keep you close to him.

“We can share the warmth,” you offered, tilting closer until your head rested against his shoulder and you could feel the nervous breath stuttering in his lungs.

He allowed his eyes to drift down your body, settling on the team logo emblazoned on your chest. The sweater was much too big on you, made for his broad shoulders and not your frame, but it suited you. He smirked, wrapping an arm around your waist, keeping you close--even sitting sedentary, the cliff worried him.

“You’re wearing my sweatshirt.”

“Yep.” You slide the sleeves over your hands, cushioning them to slap at him playfully.

He laughed, dodging your attacks but nimbly grabbing your wrists by the joint. “I’m not getting it back, am I,” he said, more of a defeated statement of fact than a question.

You giggled, and facing him from this angle, it’s like you were wearing the moon as a tiara. “Not unless you wanna see what’s underneath.”

Jean blinked, careful not to betray his surprise, “You’re saucy for three in the morning. What’s gotten into you?”

The playfulness in your core dies down, replaced with that familiar gnawing whenever his skin brushed yours. “Couldn’t sleep,” you shrugged.

When you shimmied your hips, Jean lifted you by the waist and helped you sit on the hood. He leaned back, using his hands to support himself, and despite your new elevation, he stood, all six-foot-two of him, towering over you. You balled your fists, pretending the sight didn’t make your knees weak.

“You know if you can’t sleep, you can always call me, right?” he asked carefully, keeping his eyes on the horizon.

“I don’t wanna bother you. You deserve to sleep, too.”

“You’re more important to me than that.” A hasty swallow, a breathy laugh. “Besides, everyone thinks I’m a big grump anyways, so it only adds to my image.”

“They only think that because you let them,” you said. “Why don’t you let people in? Why don’t you let them see what I see?”

He turned, hazel eyes charged with energy from the night sky. “What do you see, princess?”

“I see my best friend! I see the boy I grew up with now turned into a man, a man with his own morals and sense of truth and loyalty, who would never, ever leave me behind. I see a man too smart for his own good, someone who is capable and strong but doubts himself!” You’re out of breath, but the words just keep tumbling out. “I see a leader, a go-getter, someone honest and compassionate and true, who would die before he lets his friends down. That’s who I see, Jean, I see you as the man I fell in love with and I have no idea where I would be without you in my life.”

Somehow your hands had become entangled around his shoulders, pressing hot against his neck before sliding up his jaw to cup his cheeks, making him look at you shining with tears and love and moonlight. It spilled out of you like water, though your eyes were dry.

And that’s when something funny happened. He looked like he had just been punched in the gut because he had--you made him feel weak, stabbed right through the chink in the armor he so tightly fastened around his heart, but instead of deflating at the intrusion, he blossomed; with you his heart swelled till it burst, showering you in love and adoration and something shining brighter than the moon watching above your heads.

“I thought I’d never hear you say those words,” he gasped, laughing as he leaned his forehead down into yours. “I really--I didn’t--”

“Say what words?” you asked innocently, needing, bleeding, to hear him say it back.

“I love you. Oh my God, I love you so much, come here.”

Jean pulled you close on the hood and kissed you, so dizzying that it was a bit concerning, considering you two were perched on a cliff, but at that moment it didn’t matter; the moon could have dropped out of orbit, the world could have collapsed, you could have fallen from the sky and it wouldn’t have mattered, not as long as his lips were on yours.

He was warm in the cool night air, frenzied as you two fought with and against each other. It was less of a dance and more of a battle as all the tension from all those years rushed from one and into the other. It was all grabbing hands and knocking teeth and clawing fingers; you knocked off his cap as you tangled in his ash brown hair, and he nearly picked you up with how hard he was holding your waist.

Then, when common sense burrowed itself back into his brain, he leaned away, tongue severing the thin string of saliva tethering you. His absence drew a whimper from you as you struggled to open your eyes, so lost and drunk on this feeling, the feeling of finally and forever.

“Jean…” you whined, but he gently shushed you, trailing his thumb over your chin and swiping against your bottom lip before coming up to your cheekbone and caressing the soft skin.

What kind of man was he, kissing the girl he loved for the first time like a random hook-up at a party?

No, you were worth more than that, and you deserved more than that. He was a romantic, and you were his princess; he had to be gentle with you, soft, now that he held your heart in his hands.

“Most beautiful girl in the world,” he hummed, lightly pressing his lips below your ear, met with goosebumps flooding down your skin. “Let me give you a proper kiss.”

And he did. It was good and proper, sweet yet still feisty--this was more like the waltz you had envisioned sharing with him. In this one soft kiss, he let out every sensitive emotion, cupping your face in his hands as if it were glass, drinking from your lips as if you were a fountain that would never ever run dry.

Soft sighs and sounds escaped your diaphragm as you melted in his hands. You ran your fingers gingerly across his well-muscled biceps, dipping onto his chest, before settling contendly at his waist. Caressing him softly, you laved all the love you could into him, like he was the prize you deserved after a hard-fought life.

This was the I love you kiss.

Jean pulled away with a whisper of your name, dropping another kiss to your forehead before wrapping you up in a suffocating hug. “It feels so good to hold you like this,” he cooed, “in my arms, against my chest. Like...like I’ve always dreamed.” He perched his head on top of yours, humming, stroking up and down your back. “If I could stay right here with you forever, I would.”

“We can.”

“But finals…”

You hushed him with another kiss, one that had him laughing and blushing against your lips.

“Okay,” he grinned. “No finals talk. Not tonight.”

He squeezed you closer as the wind blew harder--the one downside of living on a cliffside beach--and you nosed along his neck. “Are you cold?”

Despite his shaking head, you squirmed out of his embrace and began peeling off the shirt he had given you, but he gently stopped your hands, intertwining them with his.

“Keep it. You look good wearing my clothes,” he said, to which you had a physical reaction to his sincerity.

“Aww, you’re blushing like a rose.” He leaned down and pecked the space between your eyes. “Don’t be embarrassed. ‘S cute, princess.”

“Gonna keep calling me that?”

“Mmmhm.” He kissed the tip of your nose, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips. “Because you’re my pretty little flower, my princess. For as long as you’ll have me.”

“That will be a very long time, my love.”

This cliff high above the waves was made for childhood friends, for the lovers who always knew but couldn’t act, for the breathless and wild, for the safe and secure, a place to talk and dream and adore in the other’s arms, kissed by moonlight and blessed by the stars.

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Kofi

last and first thing

kyan reki x f! reader

fandom: sk8 the infinity

content: fluffy reki things, maybe one suggestive notion (??) but don’t worry lol it’s nothing rlly

type of work: one shot // unedited

word count: 2591 

synopsis: you wake up in the middle of the night only to find your boyfriend gone from your side. already knowing where he was and what he was doing, you get up fully intending to drag him back to bed

a/n: this is for my friend; she hasn’t been having the best time lately so i wanted to write some fluffy reki stuff for her. she doesn’t have tumblr but when i show this to you, i hope you’ll like it <33 // also inspired by this prompt from this prompt generator “person a waking up in the middle of the night to find person b still working. person a has to drag person b back to bed”

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