Still Love Him Tho - Tumblr Posts
My boy, my poor trauma boy, possibly my new son
ANDREW GARFIELD IS A WEASLY LITTLE LIAR LIKE WTF DUDE
HE HAS BEEN PLAYING MIND GAMES LIKE NO OTHER MOTHERFUCKER
honestly? i'm proud
Tracklist:
Tomcat Disposables • Becoming the Lastnames • Cicada Days • Euthanasia • Falling Up • That's Enough, Let's Get You Home. • Um, I Mean, It's Kind of a Lot. • Half-Decade Hangover • Vampire Reference in a Minor Key • You Liked This (Okay, Computer!) • The Main Character • Against the Kitchen Floor • Sex, Drugs, Rock 'n' Roll • 14. Big Fat Bitchie’s Blueberry Pie, Christmas Tree, and Recreational Jell-o Emporium a.k.a. “Mr. Boy is on the Roof Again” (Feat. Pasta by Sneakers McSqueakers) [From the Motion Picture ”B.F.B.’s B-Sides: Bagel Batches, Marshmallows, and Barsh-mallows] • Willard! • White Noise
Spotify ♪ Bandcamp ♪ YouTube
✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。MEET UGLY — GOJO SATORU. (rich boy! au)
contents. college au!, rich boy! gojo, first meets, slight meet ugly but mainly he’s just annoying, established relationship in second scene, banter + fluff, kissies for da princess boy <3
dating gojo has always been, and will always be, the biggest unforeseen plot twist of your life.
the first time you encounter gojo satoru, it’s in literature class. he laughs with that dark haired friend of his a bit too loudly in the back while you try to share your thoughts on the reading from last night—it’s not that you particularly care for the class, but you’re trying to get the participation points, and you don’t want some slacking jackass to ruin that for you.
you throw him a glare over your shoulder, making him pause and blink before he shoots you a cheshire grin. you swear you hear a chuckle from the distance as you turn and continue speaking.
the second time you stumble across him is in line at the campus coffee shop. it’s the first day of the semester, and you have class in fifteen minutes across campus, but you’re tired. incredibly so—working shifts back to back late into the night is not doing you any favors, but you have to afford gas money and textbooks somehow.
you need caffeine, and you need it quick so you can make it to class on time.
except the tall, snow-haired stranger in front of you is making that very difficult as he takes forever and lists his wildly long list of syrups and add ons for his drink—seriously, who can even stomach a drink like that? you crinkle your nose as you imagine how sweet it must be. what irritates you more is that he pays for his ridiculously expensive drink that’s far too sweet for eight am with a black card. you glare daggers into the back of his head, wishing you could crack his skull in two with your stare alone.
and then he turns, raises a brow as he stares at you calculatingly—and then his lips turn into a grin as he seems to recognize you. great, you think.
“hey, weren’t you in lit class with me last semester?” he asks, making you sigh as you purse your lips.
“yes. now please move, i need to order and get to class.”
“she curved that final exam pretty generously, i thought i was going to fail—”
“i’ll take a large double shot,” you mumble, ignoring him as you place your order. you can feel his stare from the side as you pay.
“that’s pretty strong, don’t you think?” he asks, making you throw a glare at him from over your shoulder, eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.
it only seems to amuse him more, making you grit your teeth—how irritating could someone even manage to be? there’s got to be some sort of record he’s holding for most nerves he’s ticked off within the span of two meets.
“well, assuming from the fact that you’re a college student with a black credit card,” you huff, “you probably haven’t had to work a single night shift in your life.”
you put away your own card as you speak—one that’s not black, and one that’s going to have a very high bill due soon from the textbooks you’ll have to purchase.
“i like you,” he grins, “you’re funny. how about i—”
you cut him off again, done interacting for the morning. “have a nice day,” you say curtly, walking over to the wait area for your drink.
he seems entirely amused by your attitude—which only pisses you off more. does everything seem to make his lips quirk into that annoying smirk of his? and why is it so handsome? what a waste of such a gorgeous face to be paired with such an insufferable personality. and, because the universe hates you, he waits around for you even after he gets his drink, following you out the door when you grab yours and leave.
“how about i take you out for coffee tomorrow?” he grins, “i’ll pay with that black card you like so much.”
what an asshole—you hope he gets hit by a car and loses a few teeth.
“no.”
“c’mon, it’ll be fun—”
“no.”
“okay,” he chuckles, “feisty. i like it.”
and then, as you turn the corner, he turns with you, walking leisurely behind you as he sips that disgustingly sugary drink of his.
“what the fuck,” you hiss, “why are you following me?”
“i’m not,” he says innocently, “why are you following me?”
where are all the cars in the streets when you need them? and why haven’t they hit him yet?
“i’m walking ahead of you jackass,” you huff, “how can i be following you?”
“oh yeah?” he takes a few strides with those abnormally long legs of his, walking ahead of you as he shoots you an amused grin over his shoulder. “now you’re following me. does that mean you changed your mind about that date?”
“you wish,” you seethe.
a few more steps, and he walks into the same building as you. great—you’ll likely be running into him every morning then. a few more steps and he’s turning the hall to the same hall as you. wonderful—you’ll probably have to deal with him to the walk to class too. a few more steps, and then you realize he’s entering the same class that you’re entering.
fucking fantastic. just what you needed. absolutely divine luck—the universe has really handed you the largest pair of clown shoes it could find.
of course he of all people would be in class with you for another semester—and he seems to brighten considerably when he realizes he’s in your class too, because his grin widens even more.
“well, look at that,” he says brightly, “you followed me all the way to class. we might as well be seatmates.”
“don’t even think about sitting near me,” you warn, “i’m going to go that way. you go that way.”
he does not go the way you point—instead, he chuckles and plops down right beside you. how on earth could someone be so easy to despise? of all the empty seats in the entirety of the lecture hall, he just has to choose the seat right next to you.
for a moment, you contemplate skipping this class entirely and trying to teach yourself everything before the tests just so you don’t have to see him—you’ve done that enough times, it shouldn’t be too hard. but then you remember that this course is notorious for having a semester long paired project that weighs for a hefty amount of your final grade—skipping is not an option.
so, with veins ready to pop any second, and an oncoming migraine, you sit through all of lecture trying to ignore the absolute worst guy you’ve ever met. not only is he rude and obnoxious and overly confident to a fault—but he’s also rich and spoiled and privileged to live in a realm entirely separate from your reality.
you think you might just hate him.
you’re broken from your thoughts when you hear your name as the professor lists the pairs she’s already made from the roster for the semester’s project. this is great, you think, she’ll call someone’s name, and you’ll have that as an excuse to sit with them and avoid the nuisance sat beside you.
everything is fine. you’ll be free in just a few moments. it’ll all be over soon.
“gojo satoru,” she calls, “if you could raise your hand so your partner knows who to find after class.”
then, as if in slow motion, the very same guy who ruined your morning raises his hand, looking over at you absolutely enthused as his eyes sparkle through the top of his sunglasses—which, only an asshole would wear sunglasses indoors.
“hey partner,” he chuckles, “how about coffee tomorrow to discuss our project?”
—————
satoru likes to think that even with his unfortunate start with you on the wrong foot, he’s managed a steady relationship with you.
you don’t tell him to get hit by a car anymore—instead, now you kiss his forehead before bed every night, hold his hand and swing his arm with yours when you’re out, cuddle him after long days and talk about life, and sometimes—when he’s been extra good, you might even do other activities with him that include a whole lot of intimacy and exclude a whole lot of clothing.
he likes to think you’re pretty in love with him—and he’s proud to claim himself as your adorable, sweet, very handsome and extremely funny boyfriend. although, you don’t really ever call him all that, but he’s fairly confident you think it, and that’s close enough.
“baby,” gojo pokes your arm from his spot on your lap, “on a scale of one to ten, how cute would you say i am?”
“an eleven when you shut up and let me work,” you mumble, stroking his hair with one hand and doing calculus problems with the other.
he pouts, huffing in disbelief.
“you know, if you keep taking me for granted, you might lose me,” he says petulantly.
it earns a snort from you as you give him an amused look.
“toru, i think your mom would pay me to get back together with you if we ever broke up.”
“she would not,” he gasps, watching as you bite your lip to keep from laughing.
“remember our first fight? you practically starved yourself in your room,” you giggle, “she had to beg me to come talk to you so you’d eat.”
“that’s not true! i had kitkats and coke zero in my room,” he defends himself, crossing his arms as he sits up. “i was fine.”
“you definitely cried yourself to sleep,” you snicker, “you’re hopeless without me.”
“i am just fine without you,” he lies through his teeth, turning away from you as he tilts his head up indignantly.
“remember when you couldn’t even last a week without me while i was studying for finals? and then your mom had to call and beg me again to spend time with you?”
“that’s not—”
“admit it, toru,” you grin cheekily, pinching his nose as you chuckle, “you’d probably die if we ever broke up.”
“and you’d be fine?” he asks incredulously—he’s almost distressed at the idea, staring at you in slight hurt that makes you laugh before setting your calculus homework aside.
you grab his arm and pull him into your side, kissing his head as he slumps onto your chest.
“i don’t know, i don’t think i’d mind watching a mopey satoru beg me to take him back.”
“you don’t deserve me,” he grumbles, “i deserve to be loved and cherished. i’m a catch.”
“i bet you’d make that ugly face of yours when you cry,” you tease, making him look up at you with an offended gasp.
“i’ll have you know i’m exceptionally pretty when i cry. the waterworks have gotten me loads of things from my mom—i’m irresistible.”
“you’d probably be on your knees in seconds,” you continue to poke fun at him, “please take me back. i’m nothing without you, baby,” you mock his voice, giggling as he glares at you unimpressed.
“now you’re just being a bully. do you even love me?”
“i do,” you grin softly, pecking his cheek, “i love you a ton. you know that.”
“you don’t act like it,” he grumbles.
you laugh, hugging him tighter as your fingers slip into his hair again. sometimes, you think you should be shocked you’re here—laying in bed with gojo satoru and kissing his cheeks as he pouts. you of the past might just kill you of the present if you saw yourself now….but something about gojo is charming enough that you can overlook the very annoying first impression you had.
enough that maybe….well, maybe you might also be a bit hopeless without him—but you’ll never tell him that.
something tells you he knows, though, when he wraps a strong arm around you and pulls you impossibly closer, kissing the corner of your lips as he grins.
“what about that time you got soooo jealous?” he grins, “we weren’t even together yet. and remember that time you begged my mom to take home baby pictures of me? you’re obsessed,” he says proudly, “i would be too. i’m adorable.”
“you’re a pain is what you are,” you mutter.
“i love you too,” he chuckles, burying his head into your shoulder.
you grin, the curves of your lips painted with love as they find his forehead, pressing delicate kisses to the skin. maybe being paired for a semester long project with the annoying rich boy in your class wasn’t so bad—maybe you owe finding the softest love you’ve ever had to the strict and unpleasant professor who gave you an A- when you definitely deserved an A.
“and how are you so sure i love you?” you ask playfully. he rolls his eyes, grabbing your hand and lacing your fingers with his.
“because you haven’t hit me with your car yet,” he bites back, making you laugh brightly.
plssss i want him so bad i cannot take it anymore every day without him feels like pins and needles in my skin it’s utter agony i feel like my life’s meaning has been stripped from me i feel like my lungs and heart both burn from the lack of oxygen i feel like i am but an empty shell with no soul lost and wandering the planet searching for a reason to go on
ps. if you have been reading along w rb! gojo i hope you caught some of the references to old drabbles ;)
Yeah, it’s canon that his personal hygiene is…Less than ideal. People think he’s hot, but he’s a man from Louisiana who has poor personal hygiene, so he probably smells like literal swamp ass
“alastor needs a maid costume!! alastor needs a new fit!! alastor needs a love interest!!”
no what he needs is a fucking dental plan. look at that, he practically exhales mustard gas
still going to watch hazbin hotel on amazon 💕
Secret Games
Pairing: Chwe Vernon x f!reader
Genre: angst, smut, 18+
Warnings: cheating, alcohol consumption, weed consumption, penetrative sex, toxic relationship
Length: 1.7k
Note: i cried writing this. the most toxic piece ive ever written but sometimes fic is the best place to work out issues lmao. originally inspired by girlfriend - avril lavigne but i took it and made it a lot worse. thank you @gyuswhore for being the best beta in the world
read more here
This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!
Vernon is convinced the entire universe is playing a practical joke on him. It has to be. Vernon would never cheat on his girlfriend, wouldn’t even entertain the idea, and if someone told him a month ago he’d be where he is now, he’d take them to the hospital for a CT scan.
But a month ago he hadn’t met you, and now Vernon feels like the biggest asshole on the face of the earth.
He loves Olivia. She’s his soulmate, his favorite person, the girl he told his mom was the one since they started dating when he was a junior in college. Four years together and never once did he question if she was the person he wanted to be with.
Until you.
The only person to blame was himself. Getting caught up in the attention of the newest addition to the friend group, failing to ignore longing looks or sideways glances, reacting to your not so subtle touches. It didn’t matter if his girlfriend was sitting in his lap or she was nowhere to be seen, you seemed to zero in on him the moment you entered the room.
From the first night in the smoky club, you had him in the palm of your hand. Dancing on another man while your eyes never left his. Watching him over the mystery man's shoulder, while Olivia pressed her front to his. Pretended the body under his palms belonged to you, the lips pressed to his neck were yours.
Something passed between you two that night and since then every waking moment of Vernon’s existence revolved around how shitty of a boyfriend he became when put to the test.
But he’d been better lately. Avoiding nights out where you might be lurking, urging his girlfriend to have as many girls’ nights as she wants, hoping she might be slipping the same way he was. But Olivia didn’t look at anyone the way she looked at him. She’d never betray him, never think twice about another man even when they flirt with her out in the open like her boyfriend isn’t sitting right next to her.
That knowledge only makes the truth harder to swallow.
The beginning of the end starts in a small hall closet at Soonyoung’s apartment. Everyone came over to celebrate his recent promotion. Several rounds of drinks later, the subject of celebration insisted in a game of hide and seek. There weren't many options to hide almost twenty bodies but alcohol has a way of soothing practical concerns.
Mingyu’s voice boomed through the apartment, jumping into action immediately and sending bodies scurrying for cover.
Vernon pulled the closet door tight, praying Jun’s attempt to hide behind a lamp and Jeonghan half sticking out from under the couch would buy him enough time to avoid capture.
He could still hear the older man counting when the door opened. A sliver of light cuts across his eyes, casting the body pressing into the space in shadow. For a split second he thinks its his girlfriend, already laughing with childish glee at being so close.
But then Vernon realizes the person pushing in is you.
“Ready or not!”
Vernon tries to move back as far as he can into the wall but the bite of the shelves into his spine prevent more than a few inches of space between you. The door barely manages to click shut in time for footsteps to trample by, Mingyu’s laughter bleeding through the wood.
In the darkness, Vernon finds a sudden awareness of your body. The roar of blood in his ears does little to drown out the sound of your breathing. Painfully measured breaths that stop every time someone shuffles by on the other side of the door. The heat radiating off your back across the inch of space between your bodies, a ghost of the real thing.
A loud bang makes you both jump, and with the limited space you end up in flat against Vernon’s chest, his arms around your waist to steady you. He knows you can feel his heart pounding. Not from being caught in such a silly game but from the proximity of your ass to his crotch; bodies firmly suctioned against one another.
He tries not to react when you wiggle against him in an attempt to create more space. Vernon is desperate for you to ignore the hard curve of his pants, rising with each movement, each inhale of your perfume.
“Vernon?” you call. “I said you're stepping on my foot.”
“Shit, sorry.”
“Wait, let me just,” you whisper back.
At that moment, all of his defenses crumble. Chest to chest, your breath brushing against his ear, Vernon knows it’s futile to fight what he’s feeling. Your hands skating down his chest confirm it, rocketing his heart into a tailspin.
He wants you.
And the way you look up at him, with lazy blinks and a drunk smile, tells Vernon you want him too.
A flush makes its way up his neck and he’s thankful for the darkness you're both absorbed in. The thought of all the others beyond the space you two occupy isn’t a blip in his mind. Vernon doesn’t want you to see what an obvious effect you have on him; even if the evidence is digging into the softness of your stomach.
A pass of your lips against his jaw scorches the flesh. Barely a second of contact; simple, chaste. But the imprint will stain his consciousness forever. Each lave of your tongue against the column of his throat forces him deeper into the pits of hell.
The sting of our teeth precedes an airy whine, “Vernon.”
His head drops back at the sound of his name on your tongue again. He wants to taste, to suck the words out of your mouth while his hands force it from your lips over and over again.
Just as he’s about to, the door knob jiggles.
“Y/N, Vernon! We know you’re in there! We caught everyone else.”
Splitting apart, the warm light from the hall floods the tight space. Stumbling out, Vernon shoulders past you, past his friends, to where Olivia is waiting with a knowing gaze. He can’t look at her. Can’t look at his friends all laughing drunkenly, declaring you the winner
Despite the look of absolute disappointment Olivia appraises him with, she doesn’t object when his hand circles her wrist and Vernon tugs her through the front door.
—
Vernon tries to bury what he felt in that closet in his girlfriend’s body. Tries to remember how much he loves her, wants to be with her.
Neither of them seem to be fully present. He can feel it in her body, the way she stiffens under his hands like they freeze her muscles solid. The rasps of Olivia’s half hearted moans churn his stomach, tying knots over and over again until he thinks he might be sick.
They’ve been knocked off their axis by something, someone. The practiced ease of their bodies is nowhere to be found. She’s a step ahead and he’s a step behind but rather than stop and talk about it like they usually do, they both press forward as if it’s normal.
Who they’re pretending for, Vernon has no idea. Each other? Themselves? All the people who’ve watched their relationship bloom over the years? It doesn’t matter. He can feel years of love turning to dust and he can’t bare to watch.
Thoughts of you break the dam in his mind. How you felt under his hands, your lips against his skin, how you’d taste on his tongue. What sounds you’d make if no one interrupted what was just over the edge in the closet.
The mirage of you, head thrown back in bliss as you take his cock rockets him to the end. Eyes cinched shut, imagination running rampant. It’s you underneath him, skin sticking to his, nails raking down his spine. It’s the smell of your shampoo still lingering in his nose as he buries his face in Olivia’s neck and loses himself in the motions.
Vernon doesn’t realize he cums with your name on his lips until Olivia’s sobs reach his ears.
–
You shudder against the freezing wind, puffs of smoke washing away as soon as they exit your nostrils. A bile of shame and regret burns the back of your throat; something not even the sting of liquor is able to drive away. But that won’t stop you from drinking straight from the bottle you nabbed from Mingyu’s hand before running outside.
Maybe it's the weed or the booze but you’ve never felt so empty. A bitter hollowness, rotting you to the core. Tear tracks stain your cheeks, prickling in the frigid winter air. The cacophony of street noise falls on deaf ears as you replay the events filling you with misery.
It wasn’t supposed to end like this. Flirting with Vernon had been Olivia’s idea. A friend helping a friend. She wanted to test his loyalty. Begged you to help her assuage her doubts about their relationship. Vernon’s lack of reassurance, her belief that he’d leave her for someone else. All you were supposed to do was smile and make bedroom eyes and see if he’d cave. When that didn’t work, she told you to step it up; looks turned into touches, and flirty comments turned into late night texts where she told you exactly what to say to have him wrapped around his finger.
And when that didn’t work, she shoved you into the closet with her boyfriend to see what’d take place in the dark, away from prying eyes.
Olivia got what she thought she wanted in the end. A nod from you was all the confirmation she needed as her boyfriend whisked her out the door.
No one else seemed to pick up the tension trickling out of the closet. They were all so eager to believe that Vernon and Olivia were in love; the type of couple who you aspire to be like, so wrapped up in one another that the thought of them separated made no logical sense. Why would Vernon even consider someone else? The thought he’d do anything to jeopardize such a clandestine pairing wasn’t even a thought in the horizon.
The buzz of your phone knocks you from your stupor. A humorless huff of air sighs through your nose as you silence the fourth call in the last ten minutes. Barely a second for the same name to pop up again.
Incoming call… Vernon Chwe
-
Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @ourdawnishotterthanourday
© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.
Babygirl turned into batman
so fine for what
i just want to say that whoever made the post about zoro possibly having bruxism due to his sword style I want you to know it haunts me and I can't stop looking at his teeth in any scene that shows them/anytime he uses his 3 sword style
baaaaaaabe has my whole fucking heart
bro was really chowing down those chips
btw it is ok if your fav has no ass. You don’t have to pretend that they have an ass. It is ok. It is ok to find someone with no ass attractive.
GUYS I JUST REALIZED THAT KILLER IS BORN IN 1978 WTF?!
Killer Sans by @rahafwabas
"I don't know maybe the cafe sells stock cookies. But if we go to one of the hipster cafés that we normally go to. You know the ones where the barista has a beanie. Haha~ don't worry I am sure it will be fun. But I am happy that your thinking of improving on your own choice. Me and Gabriel weren't the best of friends when we first met in the Orphanage, hell back then I hated her. But she kept at it and here we are now with me being the Godfather to her twins. Look what I am getting at is the more trials you go through together as friends the stronger your bond becomes. So stop being a negative Nancy or I'll start poking your face like no tomorrow." Alister pouted as he joked. Laughter is the best medicine after all. Besides making others laugh is a skill he finds himself good at.
"Were friends. Nothing about you being human and me being faunus is going to change that. Me having bunny ears doesn't change the fact that I have thoughts, feelings, and opinions. And all those things matter, many others would go and think otherwise but you do think they matter. That in itself proves to me your my friend. And the fact you could have gone out of your to hate and hurt me back then but you didn't. You befriended me, you comforted me, and as your friend I will do so with you as well. Even if you say I am annoying so there! Whew that was cheesey I need coffee and cookies. To a Hipster 'Fanfic' worthy Coffeshop we go!" Alister takes Perci's hand and starts walking to the coffeeshop.
A Slight Slip
bringing this back
Bitches be like “I can fix him 🥺” and then this is him
an art trade with @snakeinabag, i had a lot of fun with this one hehe 😅 but i think it turned out real nice!
maybe i outta draw some more of my big dragon/reptile fellas some time.