#At least I think it is but who even knows anymore

[heartmix]

❯❯❯❯the grid: not the favorite

prompt: you tell him he's not your favorite driver

includes: MV1, LN4, CS55, CL16, LH44, OP81

a/n: reader doesn't say who favorite driver is expect for oscar's part

warnings: the guys getting offended-my favorite genre, mentions of crashing

F1 Masterlist / Masterlist

MV1 - tells the whole world

To be fair it wasn't your fault. A fan asked you who your favorite driver was while you stood next to Max as he signed some stuff. Without even thinking you said a name other than your boyfriend. The whiplash from Max and the hundred cameras on you caught you off guard and only then you were aware of what you admitted.

“How is a 4 time world champion not your favorite? Your 4 time world champion boyfriend!” Max asked as soon as the door to his drivers room closed.

"I'm sorry! I was just answering a question!" You couldn't help but laugh and Max took this as a personal attack.

"Unbelievable." He muttered walking into the garage.

He sulks the rest of the week. Tells everyone from mechanics to interviewers, “yeah I’m not my girls favorite driver. Guess I should retire.” 

LN4 - pouts and bargains

At first he asked because he wanted to feed his ego. You knew this and you knew how to play him. So when you said it wasn't him he thought you were joking and rolled his eyes, but when you confirmed you wasn't joking he whole face dropped.

“Who’s better than me! Sure Lewis and Max but I’m great too!”

"I didn't say you weren't. You're amazing babe." You clarified but it did nothing to ease his mind.

"But i'm not your favorite!"

Thinks about it all day. Nothing else is on his mind. Even when you both get ready for bed he asks "what is it going to take for me to be your favorite?"

CS55 - dramatic

It started with showing him a picture, your favorite picture of your favorite driver. He chuckle and agreed it was a cool picture but said "Didn't know you were obsessed with someone thats not your favorite."

"Um he kind of is?"

He was silent, stared at you in disbelief. He didn't even blink, didn't even move. He spoke slowly and soft, “Do I retire now? What's the point of doing this anymore?”

"You're not going to retire drama queen. If it helps, you're my favorite underdog?"

"UNDERDOG? I raced for all the big teams! I raced for Ferrari! Ay dios mio." He mumbled, now up off the couch pacing around like he's contemplating his life choices.

"Hey at least my favorite race is singapore '23!"

"That was a great race." he mumbled almost like it was to reassure himself.

CL16 - drastic and dramatic (ferrari boys being dramatic)

You knew Charles was dramatic. Which is why you hid who was your favorite driver. It's not like he asked. He just assumed it was him. That was until he did bring it up.

"How does it feeling dating your driver?" He was cocky about it. Maybe his version of pillow talk. Who knows. Which made it hurt harder when you dropped the bombshell.

"Uhh I wouldn't know." You shrugged, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. But no matter how you said he would still react the same.

"Shunting my car every race would hurt less."

"Oh my god."

"DNFing every practice, qualiy, sprint, race. Anything you name it. Even when i'm driving around monaco i'm going to crash."

"Well helps that you can't park." you couldn't help but tease him.

"DO YOU HATE ME?!"

LH44 - cocky

It started off when Charles and Alex asked how you got into F1. They expected you to say it was because Lewis, but no. You had a whole lore about how one driver pulled you in. From there Charles teased Lewis about it.

When you both were back in your hotel room the first thing out of his mouth was “I’m literally the best racer in the world since senna. People flock to me and you're here saying you don’t care about me?”

At first you were caught off guard. The whole day he was his usual self. Joking and loving on you, but now it's like something switched.

"Excuse me?"

"Just wondering who else is better than me." He shrugged, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"No one?"

"Exactly. So tell me why i'm not your favorite."

OP81 - understanding and acceptance

Lunch with his sister always caused chaos for Oscar. He was used to it. Anything he was hit with was expected. If someone said they were pregnant he wouldn't even bat an eye and stroll on like it was a normal day.

So when the topic of drivers came up each sister was talking about who they liked to watch besides Oscar during a race.

"Of course I like watching Lewis since he's my favorite" the comment was offhanded. You were simply making the conversation flow.

"Wow hear that Oscar, you're not her favorite." Hattie teased while the two other sisters laughed along.

“I mean sure. I guess. Don’t really have any championships under my belt.” He shrugged agreeing with you. It broke you heart that he didn't see himself good enough just because he didn't have a championship. It's not he had a million fans around the world.

"Wait no, it's not because of that! I just started watching when he was dominating and I really liked Mercedes. They looked cool and he looked. But now i'm full fledge papaya and committed to 81." You rushed out as the 3 Piastri sisters laughed harder at your attempt to fix it.

"Don't worry, I'll win that championship soon." he winked at you to show he wasn't hurt, more amused than anything.

[eyekoninurarea]

Your Idol: Blurb

-> daniela avanzini x dark idol!reader x sophia laforteza

authors note: this blurb isn't canon :)) just for fun, just something to keep my writing going while I'm writing chapter 7. got lazy and eepy towards the end hehe sowwy, ily guys <3

tag(s): DARK, death, blood, nsfw, suggestive, hints of mafia family, serial killers, morality is missing, sodani being obsessive girlfriends, they really said match my freak

You didn’t know the exact moment your obsession with the girls snapped.

It wasn’t the kind of obsession that made you want to be around them constantly, or even speak to them more than necessary. You loved them, yes you really did, but in the way the earth loves the moon: silently, obsessively, orbiting them over and over again without ever demanding to be seen.

But somewhere between the fifth death threat and the hundredth racist comment under their fancams, something inside you fractured. Quietly. Cleanly.

You weren’t desperate for love. You weren’t crazed. You weren’t even parasocial. You were methodical. Controlled. Loyal.

And you tried, truly, you tried to keep it all in check. But eventually, something in you simply… snapped.

Why hold back when you had the power to do something about it?

So when the hate began to multiply; the racist slurs, the grotesque body-shaming, the slut jokes, the veiled death threats masquerading as criticism, it wasn’t emotion that guided your hand.

It was justice. Your kind of justice. The one that acts swift and leaves blood in its wake.

It began with a phone call.

“Josephine,” you said.

A pause. “Ma’am?”

Your voice was calm. Almost bored. “I need someone erased. Can I trust you with it?”

There was a beat of silence. Then, a smile in her voice.

“Finally,” your cousin-in-law hummed. “Are you officially dabbling in the family business?”

“Perhaps. Will it get me cleaner kills?”

“…Who?”

“Haters.”

A sharp inhale. “Your haters?”

“KATSEYE’s,” you corrected, coolly. “Racists. Homophobes. Sexists. Especially anyone targeting their bodies, their accents, or their talent. Track IPs. Assess risk. If they’re teenagers or someone who might change, scare them. If they show patterns? If they’re dangerous? Persistent?”

You exhaled, slow and flat.

“Eliminate them.”

You stared down at your phone showing Sophia’s face, still shining from the latest fancam, now defiled by a deepfake circulating through comment threads. The replies laughed. Cheered it on. Called her a whore.

Your lips curled, just slightly, your anger simmering beneath your skin.

Your girls were far too sacred to be dragged through the filth of humans like that.

Josephine didn’t need more context.

And behind you, Cami let out a low whistle. “God, I love when you get like this.”

It started slow. You wanted it to start slow.

A hate account vanished. A TikTok troll who called Daniela “a diversity hire with no talent” went missing on a hiking trip. Her last post? “KATSEYE will never succeed, they're just glorified strippers.”

Gone. Just like that.

At first, it was just you, Josephine, and the hundreds of hitmen your family has. But soon enough, your girls wanted in.

They didn’t want to just watch from the sidelines anymore. They wanted blood on their hands too, or at least to know whose hands it was on.

You warned them. Told them this wasn’t just a gray area, it was full red.

They only said:

“If not us, then who?”

Three weeks later, the imbeciles started disappearing in batches.

The girl who mocked Yoonchae’s accent during a livestream? Never came home from school. Her friends whispered about a kidnapping. The police found nothing.

A popular account that slut-shamed Megan and Lara across multiple platforms? Her Instagram went dark. Her Discord was deleted. Her apartment is untouched. Too untouched. As if she just vanished out of thin air.

Rina handled the digital side.

“I scrubbed her completely,” she said, fingers tapping across her pink laptop.

“Her mom thinks she eloped with a girlfriend. Nobody’s even looking.”

Cami once befriended a girl who doxxed Megan. Pretended to be a fan. They exchanged playlists for a week.

Then the girl’s house caught fire. The officials ruled it as: “faulty wiring”

“Faulty wiring, my ass,” Hana muttered afterward, sipping red wine from a chipped mug.

“She had it coming.”

But no one ever made the connection. Not to you. Not to your group.

How could they?

You were SYRE, the doe-eyed center of SIREN5, ethereal and soft-spoken, yet snaps into a sinfully seductive role on stage, a darling of the public with a pristine record and the smile of someone too precious to lie. You giggled over memes, shyly hid behind members in interviews, posted fanart with shaking hands and fuzzy captions. You wore oversized hoodies and blinked slowly when asked about scandals.

In public, you were always with your girls, especially now, with Daniela and Sophia. Always doting, always nearby. Sophia adjusting your mic. Daniela tugging your hoodie strings. You, being led like a sleepy pup.

And your family money? It erased everything.

Not even the KATSEYE girls suspected a thing.

But SIREN5 knows.

They knew everything, every order, every cleanup, every blood-slicked detail. They were your sisters. Your shadows. Your alibis.

They never questioned you. Because they knew what this industry could do to a girl. They knew what it meant to be hated for breathing, for being queer, too loud, too dark, too light, too bold, too foreign. Too visible.

The world thought the tide was changing. That maybe people were just growing kinder.

Daniela once texted you:

“It’s been weeks without a single hate comment. That’s… new. I don't know if that's good or not...”

You stared at the message for a while. Then glanced up.

Hana was sharpening a knife.

Cami was tagging usernames on a hate thread, forwarding them to Josephine.

Rina was running metadata on a suspicious Discord server.

Amara, curled on the floor, hummed an old lullaby, the same one she whispered once to a girl who’d begged for her life.

In the background, Sophia laughed through her livestream, her voice light and teasing:

“I think our fans are behaving now. Every time someone posts hate, they just… vanish. Like it’s a curse.”

The chat exploded with laughter, skull emojis, and ironic “🕯️manifesting🕯️” comments.

You smiled, soft and sweet. Demure. Soafer Demure.

But behind your eyes? Still. Cold. Quiet. Anger.

You never laid a finger on any of them.

You never had to.

You gave the order.

And they were gone.

For the longest time, it was about control. Precision. A quiet kind of justice tucked neatly into whispered phone calls and encrypted instructions. You handled it the way you handled everything else in your life: surgically clean, devoid of mess, covered in silk and wrapped in charm.

But then everything changed.

Sophia. Daniela. Your beloved girls.

You weren’t just protecting idols anymore. You were protecting your lovers. The only two people in this industry, in this life, who had seen your soul and kissed the blood from your teeth.

And that meant the stakes were different now. The hate wasn’t just theoretical, something to scroll past and log. It was real. You saw the way it clung to them.

You held Sophia while she shook after reading one too many comments dissecting her appearance, calling her “plastic,” “talentless,” “unearned.”

You kissed Daniela’s cheeks dry after she spiraled in silence for hours, struggling with accusations that she only made it this far because of her body.

You watched Megan’s smile falter during a livestream, fingers fumbling over the screen as the word “disproportionate” lit up in the comments. Watched her fake a laugh. Watched her eyes go dim.

You saw Manon freeze at the corner of the practice room, overhearing staff make offhand remarks about “attitude problems” and “black girls always being too much.” She didn’t cry, not then, but she didn’t need to. You felt the way her walls went up.

You walked in on Lara crying in the dance studio bathroom, wiping at her face in harsh swipes. She couldn’t even form the words, but the screenshots she showed you were enough. Slurs. Homophobic bile. Racist garbage. All because she existed.

And Yoonchae…

You stood outside the dorm’s living room, hearing the choked sobs in Sophia’s arms.

“They’re waiting for me to turn 18,” she whispered, voice trembling.

“They say my accent’s annoying. That I’m fake american. That I should just go back to Korea…”

You saw red. You breathed red. No one else would lift a finger. But you?

You had the means. You had the money. And more than anything else, you had the resolve.

Your schedule began to shift. Appearances were spaced out just enough to throw off suspicion. Performances timed perfectly to flood the search algorithms and bury certain articles. Your team had learned long ago not to ask questions. Especially not Josephine. Especially not when you said, “Add them to the list.”

The list was long now.

Fake usernames. VPN traces. Anonymous messages.

It didn’t matter. They always left a fingerprint. A digital breath. One your team could track like a scent. And slowly, your reach extended. Journalists started receiving hush funds. Threats. Or… silence.

Some disappeared entirely.

And through it all, KATSEYE shined brighter. Clearer. Untouched.

You watched them laugh again, play around again, breathe again without knowing what it cost.

You were a shadow at their backs. Always there. Always watching. Because your girls didn’t need to know about the filth. Didn’t need to see the blood.

Not when it was already coating you from head to toe.

Not when their only job was to sing, to dance, to live out their dreams.

And you? You would bear the sins. You’d do it again. You’d do it a thousand times over. For them.

Always for them.

But then, there's just no end to them. They popped out again.

It started with Megan. She smiled that day. Practiced for hours. Got everything right on stage. Came off beaming.

And then someone posted a clip slowed down to .25 speed: an edited freeze-frame of her mid-turn, paired with captions saying her body looked “freakish.” Called her “malformed.” Said “Hybe is collecting mutants.”

You took the phone from her hands gently. You deleted the comment. You told her she was perfect. You held her until she stopped shaking.

You watched the others slowly fall asleep in the dorm that night.

And then… your phone buzzed.

Another post. Another thread.

This time, a photo from Lara’s past; cropped, edited, layered with text that twisted her queerness into mockery and her heritage into a punchline. Hundreds of likes. Thousands of views.

And then, a private message.

To Yoonchae.

You read the contents twice.

Then a third time.There were pictures. Zoomed-in edits. A countdown. Words that said things no child should ever read. No person should ever read.

And it was the final straw.

Your breathing slowed. And then you saw red. Again.

But this time, your fingers didn’t reach for the team chat. You didn’t type the usual order.

You reached for your coat.

You didn’t knock on his door. You waited.

Waited for him to come home like any other night. Headphones in. Grocery bag in one hand. Phone open to whatever platform he was frothing on today.

He didn’t even look up before he reached the top of the stairs. He didn’t have time to scream. He didn’t deserve it.

And you? You didn’t feel the usual chill of detachment. The professionalism. The clean satisfaction of a loose end tied.

You felt rage. Your hand wrapped around his throat so easily. Honestly, he should've worn a scarf of something, his throat just seemed so chokable. He's making it so easy, he must want it as well. He must want someone to end his miserable life for him.

He looked so normal. Pathetic. A twenty-something in a hoodie who lived off instant noodles and the suffering of strangers.

You said nothing. You didn’t need to. You pressed your thumb under his jaw until you felt something crunch. He hit the floor, limp.

You didn’t blink. You only adjusted your gloves. Called who needed to be called. Left through the back alley like a whisper in the wind.

You made it back before anyone woke up. But your eyes were bloodshot.

And your hands? No matter how hard you scrubbed, they still felt warm. Still trembled with something feral. Alive. Addictive. Obsessive.

When Sophia wandered in the next morning, sleep-heavy and yawning, she paused mid-step.

“Baby?”

You looked up too fast. She stared.

Then Daniela appeared behind her, hair tousled, hoodie slipping off one shoulder. They both froze.

You smiled. Too wide. Too late. Too practiced.

You really thought you were hiding it well.

The late nights. The sudden schedule changes. The obsessively cleaned shoes. The ghost-like calm you wore whenever one of their names trended for the wrong reason, then suddenly didn’t.

You thought you were careful.

But you underestimated your girlfriends. By a lot.

Sophia had always been sharper than she let on, soft smiles and dreamy eyes hiding a mind so sharp it's terrifying. And Daniela? She was trained to perform, to lead, to hunt down the beat of any room. She didn’t miss shifts in rhythm. She didn’t miss you.

And you, idiotically, hopelessly, pathetically in love, never stood a chance.

So when they cornered you one night in your shared bedroom, you already knew.

Sophia leaned against the vanity, arms crossed, eyes unreadable but gleaming. Daniela sat on the edge of the table, legs crossed, fingers steepled under her chin.

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t.

“You know,” Sophia said, voice light as air, as she peeled the label off her water bottle with slow, deliberate fingers

“At first I thought it was just a coincidence.”

“The way the hate disappeared overnight. Too clean. Too fast.” Daniela said as she leaned back in her chair, arms crossed as her gaze slid over you like silk turned to steel.

Your laugh came too quick, too thin.

“Maybe the world finally came to its senses. Maybe they saw hos hard you worked for this.”

Sophia’s laugh wasn’t kind.

“Right. And all those deleted posts, the articles that vanished without a trace? Divine intervention?”

“Mahal, come on. That’s just the internet! Things go missing all the time.” You forced a smile. Willed your hands to stop twitching. Tried to keep your voice steady.

But Daniela stood. Not rushed. No drama. Just that slow, terrifying grace she always moved with when she was serious. She stepped forward, each heel click slicing through the air like a blade. Her eyes dropped, then rose to meet yours, unblinking.

“You’ve got blood on your shoes.”

Your stomach twisted so violently it felt like it flipped. You looked down instinctively, as if maybe she was lying. Your mouth opened, then shut again. The words tripped over each other, hopeless.

“I- I didn’t… I can explain, it’s not what-”

“We know,” Sophia said, voice lower now, almost gentle.

Daniela stopped in front of you, close enough that you could feel her warmth seep into your skin.

“We’ve always known.”

And just like that, you broke.

The weight of it all finally snapped your spine. Your knees hit the floor with a thud you barely registered, and your hands trembled as they braced the ground. You bowed your head like a sinner on the verge of death, begging for salvation, breath shallow and stuttering. You weren’t crying. Not yet. But you were right on the edge of shattering.

“I didn’t want you to know,” you whispered, barely audible.

“Not because I’m ashamed. Not because I thought you’d hate me. But because I couldn’t- couldn’t stand it if you looked at me like I’m a monster. If you left. I can’t lose you. I can’t.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. Crushing. Your pulse thudded in your ears like a countdown to heartbreak.

Then Sophia let out a quiet, awestruck laugh.

“Oh my God.”

You blinked up, dazed. She crouched beside you, her hand trailing along your back.

“That’s so hot.”

Daniela dropped to her knees in front of you, cupping your face with both hands like it was something fragile and holy. Her thumbs brushed your cheeks, eyes dark and dilated.

“Our killer,” she murmured. “On her knees. Trembling. Sweet. Mine.”

“Ours.” Sophia corrects, hands still wandering

“Wait…what?” You blinked, lips parted.

Sophia slipped in behind you, wrapping her arms around your waist and resting her chin on your shoulder.

“You did all that for us?”

“For the others too. They didn’t deserve that kind of hate. Not even for a second.” You hesitated before answering

“You’re completely insane.” Sophia grinned against your neck, warm breath teasing your skin.

“And completely ours,” Daniela whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead: slow, reverent, like a vow.

Sophia’s hand slid under your chin, tilting your face back toward hers, your back arched to accommodate the stretch your neck is doing.

“We love every dangerous, obsessive, protective piece of you.”

“But next time?” Daniela murmured, brushing her thumb over your trembling lips.

“Let us help.”

Your chest hitched. You stared between them, heart beating so hard it hurt.

“You’re not mad?”

Sophia kissed your cheek.

“Darling. We’ve been waiting for you to crack."

Daniela’s hands drifted down your throat, thumbs stroking over your pulse.

“You really thought we wouldn’t notice? You really thought we didn’t know the difference between insanity and love?”

“You’re the only one who thinks it’s wrong,” Sophia said.

“We see it for what it is.”

“I was so scared of losing you.” Your voice came out hoarse, broken. Sophia leaned in, her lips brushing yours.

“Good.”

And then she kissed you; hard, deep, claiming and upside down.

Daniela pulled you closer, her hand sliding into your hair as she kissed along your jaw.

“Because you’re never losing us,” she murmured.

“We’d burn the world down before we let you go.”

You gasped, melting between them, every inch of you undone. A killer. A monster.

But right now, you were just theirs.

And nothing had ever felt more dangerous or more right.

You didn't even realize you were shaking until Sophia ran her hand down your spine: slow, soothing, cruel in its tenderness.

“Breathe, baby,” she cooed.

“You’re safe. You’re with us.”

Daniela’s lips brushed your cheek.

“You did all that for us… and still thought you had to hide? If that isn't love, I don't know what is, my love.”

Their hands were everywhere: warm, reverent, possessive. Your head was still spinning from the fact they weren’t horrified. They weren’t running. They were close. Closer than ever.

You tried to speak, to say something, anything, but your throat was too tight. Instead, you let your eyes flutter shut as Sophia’s mouth ghosted over the shell of your ear.

“Bet you were so careful,” she whispered, her fingers sliding into your hair.

“Scrubbing blood off your hands, pretending like you’re just some soft little thing.”

“You are soft,” Daniela murmured, lips against your collarbone now.

“Just with us. No one else, hm? ”

Their praise should’ve grounded you. Instead, it burned.

“She’s so warm,” Sophia sighed, curling around your back.

“I can feel her shaking.”

“You’re still on your knees, baby. Phia, look at her on her knees. She looks so good.”

Daniela slipped her hands beneath your shirt, running her palms up your sides.

You whimpered: small, involuntary, humiliating.

“God, look at her. One whisper from us and she falls apart.” Sophia chuckled darkly.

“I imagined her slitting a man's throat with that calm empty look in her eyes.” Daniela said, voice dripping with pride.

“But now? She’s blushing. Hiding her face like we haven’t already seen every inch of her.”

“Mm, we've never had her like this.” Sophia said.

“Not broken open like this.”

“Not ours like this,” Daniela agreed, tilting your chin up again.

“Look at me.”

You obeyed, helpless. Like a dog on a leash.

Daniela kissed you slow: claiming, open-mouthed, so deep your spine curved with it.

“She tastes like desperation,” Sophia moaned beside you.

“God, I want to ruin her.”

“We will,” Daniela mumured the promise, not breaking the kiss.

It was dizzying. Their mouths, their hands, the way they looked at you now. Like you weren’t just theirs but something precious. Something to be handled carefully even while being devoured.

“Say it,” Sophia whispered as her hand pressed between your thighs.

“Say you belong to us.”

“I-” Your voice broke on a gasp.

“I belong to you.”

“Again.”

“I belong to you,” you choked.

“Both of you. Always.”

“Good girl,” Daniela breathed, kissing the corner of your eye.

“Our beautiful, murderous girl.”

Sophia laughed low in her throat. “She really killed for us, Dani.”

“And she’ll do it again,” Daniela said, smiling against your skin.

“Won’t you, baby?”

You nodded desperately. “Anything. I'll do anything for you.”

They didn’t stop smiling. Didn’t stop touching. They never would.

And you never wanted them to.

[ashthesalamipiece]

Could you make a fanfic about fem reader x bakugo where she gave birth to two twins and she does really like herslef anymore, like she doesent like that her boobs got bigger, her hips, that she has stretch mark etc but katsuki loves them?

“Everything You Are”

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~3,300

Genre: Angst/Comfort, Romance, Domestic Fluff

Warnings: Postpartum body image issues, stretch marks, self-doubt, vulnerability, but with healing and soft!Bakugo

Setting: A few weeks after giving birth to twins

---

The crying had stopped.

At least for now.

You stood in front of the bathroom mirror at 2:47 a.m., barefoot, robe loosely tied around your waist, the sound of the baby monitor humming in the bedroom behind you. The twins — your twins — had finally fallen asleep after a hellish hour of feeding, burping, crying, and everything in between.

And now, alone in the low yellow light, you faced yourself.

And hated what you saw.

Your body had changed.

Your belly, once full and taut with life, was now soft. Deflated. Lined with deep stretch marks that branched across your hips and lower stomach like a tree’s roots. Your breasts were swollen, tender from feeding, constantly leaking no matter what you wore. Your thighs felt thicker, your waist wider. You hadn’t slept more than two hours straight in weeks, and it showed in the bags under your eyes, in your dull skin, in the way you slouched without realizing.

You used to feel pretty. Strong. Wanted.

Now you felt like a ghost in your own skin.

“Katsuki deserves better than this,” you whispered to your reflection. “Better than me.”

You hadn’t told him how much it haunted you. He was always up helping with the twins, changing diapers, rocking them against his chest. He told you you were doing great, that you were beautiful. But it felt like a lie.

Because this body didn’t feel beautiful anymore. It felt used. Stretched. Worn out.

You didn’t even notice the door creak open until his voice broke the silence.

“Why’re you up?” Katsuki’s voice was low, rough from sleep, but laced with concern. “I just got them both down.”

You quickly wiped under your eyes. “Couldn’t sleep. Was just… brushing my teeth.”

He stared at you for a beat.

“You don’t have a toothbrush in your hand.”

Damn it. You looked down at the sink.

“I was just thinking,” you muttered.

Katsuki stepped closer, rubbing a hand through his messy hair, shirtless and in his worn grey sweats. “What’s going on?”

You hesitated, heart racing. It was one thing to break down in the mirror. Another to admit it to him — the man who still kissed you like you were everything. Who touched you like you hadn’t changed at all.

But you weren’t the same.

And it hurt too much to pretend.

“Katsuki…” Your voice cracked. “Do you… still find me attractive?”

His brow furrowed, almost insulted. “The fuck kinda question is that?”

You looked away, arms crossing over your chest — not for warmth, but to hide. “I just… I don’t feel good about how I look. I feel gross. I feel soft. My stretch marks are everywhere. My boobs leak constantly. I haven’t worn makeup in weeks. I can’t even fit into my old clothes. I—” You paused, swallowing hard. “I feel like someone else.”

He didn’t answer right away.

You half expected him to get frustrated — not with you, but because he didn’t always know what to say when you were upset. He was a man of action, not words. But when he spoke, his voice was steady. Soft. Unusually gentle.

“Let me see.”

Your eyes darted to him. “What?”

“Take off the robe.”

You blinked. “Katsuki—”

“I’m not gonna do anything unless you want me to. I just wanna see you. Not the version in your head. You.”

Your hands trembled slightly as you untied the robe. Slowly. Hesitantly.

You let it fall open, revealing the nursing bra barely containing your swollen breasts, the postpartum belly you hated looking at, the stretch marks that traced your skin like scars of battle.

Katsuki stepped forward. No smirk. No teasing. Just awe.

He reached out, slowly dragging his fingertips down your side, brushing over the ridges of your stretch marks with care.

“Goddamn,” he whispered. “You’re beautiful.”

Your throat tightened. “You don’t have to say that just because I had your kids.”

“I’m not.” His hands moved to your hips, holding you gently but firmly. “I’m saying it because it’s true.”

You looked away, blinking fast. “They’re ugly.”

“They’re proof you did something no one else could,” he said, voice firmer now. “You carried our babies for nine months. You lived through swollen ankles and heartburn and nearly tearing me a new one during labor. And now you’re up every night feeding them, holding them, loving them — and still worrying about me?”

He shook his head.

“You think this softness makes you less?” He kissed your shoulder. “It makes you real.”

You bit your lip, trying not to cry.

“I see you, babe,” he whispered. “Every mark. Every scar. Every inch of you. I see you. And you’re still the most stunning thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

You blinked, voice small. “Even with the leaky boobs?”

He smirked — a real one this time. “Especially with the leaky boobs.”

You snorted, and he kissed your smile before it faded.

“Listen to me,” he said against your skin. “You’re not the same. And that’s okay. I didn’t fall in love with some fixed idea of what you’re supposed to look like. I fell for you. And this?” He placed a hand on your stomach. “This is what love leaves behind. These lines, these curves — they’re all part of the story we’re building.”

You finally let yourself cry.

But they weren’t the bitter, helpless tears of earlier. These were soft. Cleansing. Held in strong arms while the weight you’d carried — the doubt, the self-hate — started to melt.

He pulled you into his chest and held you like nothing else mattered. Because to him, it didn’t.

Just you. Just this. Just now.

After a moment, you murmured, “You really don’t miss the old me?”

Katsuki leaned back just enough to look in your eyes.

“I love every version of you,” he said. “But this one? This tired, fierce, soft, milk-stained, stretch-marked, badass mom version?” He kissed your forehead. “She’s my favorite so far.”

---

Later that night

You climbed back into bed with him, your robe still open, and for once, you didn’t rush to cover yourself. Katsuki curled behind you, strong arms wrapping around your waist, his hand gently smoothing over your stomach.

The baby monitor crackled with soft breathing from the nursery.

You didn’t sleep right away, but for the first time in weeks, you weren’t afraid of your reflection.

Because you were learning to see yourself the way he did — not ruined.

Loved.

[ninzied]

a lesson in maths

or, a college au

alex claremont-diaz's relationship status is an oft-debated topic on campus.

even pez and bea have not been immune to at least a passing curiosity (bea), or more and more outlandish guesswork as to what—better yet who—the answer could be (pez).

"hazza, you're his maths tutor. surely you must have some idea.”

henry might've noticed a few things here and there, yes.

that alex for example is hardly ever on his own. that he's always surrounded by at least half his lacrosse team, plus any number of girls at any given point in time.

that the one exception is the one class he & henry have together, at two adjoining desks in the very back of the room.

and because henry is hopeless, and alex is hopelessly bad at maths, it feels like their own little world when alex, brow adorably scrunched, leans his head toward his.

it was all thanks to dr. bankston. alex, she'd said, was in dire need of remedial maths, then foisted him onto her star pupil henry at the start of term.

("hey," alex had grinned.

henry uttered a small prayer for his sanity. that dimple was even more lethal up close.

"henry, right? i hear you're the one who's gonna fix me."

there was no fixing alex. it defied logic how warm and kind and vibrant he was. henry had been doomed from the start.)

dr. bankston regrets it all now, henry's certain.

alex jostles their knees together. "you coming to my game tonight, h?"

"if you would focus," henry says sternly, not looking up from his work.

"there's an afterparty," alex says. "i guess hunter decided we're hosting, if you wanted to…"

henry looks up now. their eyes meet. "that would be nice, yes."

"sweet." alex, still beaming, peers over his shoulder. "you forgot a decimal there, by the way."

"i—" henry blinks. "sorry, what?"

.

it happens mid-goal.

alex turns to the crowd. his gaze lands almost improbably on henry’s. he winks as though to say, this one's for you.

henry flushes so hard it's a wonder no one has noticed. no one, that is, except—

"hazza." percy looks terribly proud. "you have some explaining to do."

.

campus is abuzz after the win, everyone descending on alex & hunter’s residence hall as henry walks by and then keeps walking.

the quad he's looking for is deserted, save for the stars and a small picnic blanket—and alex, still in his uniform, glancing up with a wide smile just for henry.

"i'll say this about hunter," says alex. "he knows how to throw a party. we basically have the whole place to ourselves."

"mm. i heard talk of a bonfire too."

"even better." alex reaches for henry's hand. "now if you'll excuse me, i'd like to have a moment alone with my boyfriend for once."

"pretending to be bad at maths not cutting it for you anymore?" henry smiles.

"baby," says alex. "that was just the beginning. besides, i had to get you to start noticing me somehow.”

"oh, i think there might've been a few things already," muses henry. "a whole list of them, as a matter of fact.”

"yeah?" alex, who loves a list, preens just a little. "how long of a list are we talking? 'cause i could use a refresher on how to like. count things."

henry shakes his head, but he's smiling. he can feel alex smile too as henry leans in, presses his lips there and says, "one.”

[threadedtrinket]

Release the next part of the freeloading partner and my LIFE is YOURS 🥺😭

In all seriousness I am OBSESSED !! Thank you so much for writing this 💕 I will wait (im)patiently for the next part forever if need be 💕💕

Content Awareness: Post-emotional breakdown, mentions of previous toxic relationship and verbal abuse, Nightmare makes an appearance but it's well-intended - as always, please take care when reading if needed.

You can read the first part here, the second part here, and an extra segment from the household's perspective here!

You held the dateviators in one hand before you slumped to the floor and leaned on your bedframe for support – you didn't know how much time had passed since they turned off, but you didn't want to recharge them – at least, not yet.

You couldn't remember the last time you cried in front of someone, anyone, but then Skylar asked if you were okay before your whole bedroom started speaking up, their eyes filled with worry and concern that were all for you.

But despite everything they said, all you could think about was what your ex said before they packed their things and when they walked out.

"You can't even cook or clean for shit–"

"Your personality, it's really lacking–"

"–I don't know what I ever saw in you."

You hadn't cried that much in a long time either, not even when your ex near-screamed at you – but now your eyes were swelling up, and your chest was aching from when you tried to breathe while simultaneously sob.

The wooden floorboards and the wool rug brought you to the present as you looked back to the dateviators in your hand. You couldn't bring yourself to leave Skylar with an empty battery, but you also didn't want to speak to anyone about what happened.

In the end, you leave her charging on the nightstand as you slept on-top of the bed, your eyes slowly drifting closed before the pillows and blankets shuffled closer to give you warmth and comfort.

That night, you dream about the day the Valdivian drone broke through the front door's transom and placed a box in front of you – the exact same box that contained the dateviators. You slowly picked the box up and inspected it before-

"You didn't have to get that, I was planning to get it when I was done with my new cover letter."

Your heart went still when you turned to see your ex standing behind you.

"What? When did you– Why are you here–?"

"That package, I ordered something last night. I paid extra for the next-day delivery service."

They raise an eyebrow and hold their hand  out expectantly before you take a step back, the box slightly shaking in your grasp.

"No, you– you're not supposed to be here, I made you leave, these aren't yours–"

"What are you talking about? The most you get delivered to the house is groceries and utilities bills."

Your ex simply rolls their eyes and makes a grabbing motion with their hand before stepping closer.

"But I got a message– the hacker, they said that they were sending this to me–"

"It's definitely my external CPU, I bought it for my laptop for–"

"These don't belong to you!"

Your voice echoes through the hall and throughout the entire house.

"You don't live here anymore, these were given to me when you left!"

Your ex's eyes widen in response, their eyebrows furrowing as they open their mouth to shout back, but you step forward.

"I should've never let you move in, you didn't really love me or care about me – all you thought about was yourself! I wasn't your partner, I was nothing but a roof over your head that let you eat, sleep and shower whenever you felt like it!"

You held the box close to you as tears gathered in the corners of your eyes.

"This box, the dateviators – they've shown me that I'm surrounded by people who love and care about me!"

"...Then why haven't you let them?"

Your ex's voice shifts and becomes unrecognisable, their eyes turning blank and their smile becoming distorted as they become something that resembles a solid black silhouette.

"Ever since you wore those things and learned of the household's existence, you've done everything you can to make sure they're loved and cared for  – but when they try to do the same for you, you turn them away – why is that?"

You look down at your hands, the box nowhere to be found before you looked back at the silhouette.

"I don't know, I didn't–"

"Do you think they'll treat you the same way your previous partner did?"

"No! No, they'd never do the things my ex did to me, but..."

You turn to the front door, the broken transom now fixed as you stared at your reflection in the glass.

"...I don't deserve it," your voice breaks. "I don't deserve their love and care when they've had to deal with everything that happened between me and my ex."

You closed your eyes and leaned on the door to suppress the oncoming tears.

"Dorian has been kicked so many times that some of his door frames are damaged, Daisuke constantly finds new chips and bits of rust, Clarence still has hard stains that I can't get out– I still need to make things right, for all of them–"

Before you could go on, you're interrupted by the silhouette's sadistic laugh.

"And how long will it take to fix everything before you're satisfied? Another week? Another month? How long will you continue to push them all away?"

"What? No, that's not– I'm not–"

You raise your head before you realise that you're standing outside the house, but when you try to go back inside, the front door refuses to open.

"No–! Dorian, please open up–!"

You step back and try to head to the back door, but the entire house slowly gives way to darkness.

"Wait, no, don't go–!"

When you reach out towards the front door one last time, you wake up to your hand outstretched towards the ceiling – tears lingering in your swollen eyes.

[zagreuses-art]

Daemon headcanons for everyone's favorite fictional catholics. yes, the daemons get their own little zuchettos.

I've been rotating these ideas in my head, so more daemon info under the readmore (and image description in Alt)

I felt that these three had interesting differences in their characters between the book and the film, so I'm using daemons as a kind of character analysis for that. the movie versions are also kinda reflective of the vibes of the actors. and yes, i know they dont have Popes anymore in HDM, but maybe they brought it back.

Lawrence/Lomeli: his dog energy is very strong, which the fandom likes to point out, and I do too. Lomeli and Lawrence have slightly different energies about it tho, Lomeli is the old dog who always sighs and looks Ancient and crusty. I ended up choosing an italian breed called Spinone Italiano because this is how it was described "These dogs are known for being gentler and more mild-mannered than some of their pointing relatives. But they can have a stubborn streak, and the strong attachments they form with their people can result in separation anxiety." meanwhile Lawrence has a weirder, more nervous dog vibes, and Ralph Fiennes brings English poshness into the equation, so I went with a fancy but odd and sad looking Borzoi. both of these are also hunting dogs, which ties into his role hunting out the truth. I think they talk rather frequently with eachother, often making a feedback loop of worrying and even arguing about things, but rarely in public unless Thomas is overwhelmed in some way (or the daemon has a joke to share with a friend like Bellini). She tries to remind him to eat and take care of himself. their names are:

movie=Julian (for Julian of norwich, author of the divine revelations of love, shoutout piersantis fic of the same name. )

book= Caterina, (for st Catherine of Siena, patron of Italy, who's full name includes a "Jacopo" and who apparently worked closely with someone named Raymond in her life. using the names of patron saints seems like it would make sense as a catholic daemon naming tradition)

Benitez: two different species this time, both female. in the book his unassuming qualities and ability to get along with people are highlighted so I went with a daemon form that is probably pretty common worldwide, but still can give insights into a clever and strong personality; a Cat! (I also chose a calico because famously male calicos are intersex and calicos in general are more likely to be because of their chimera-ism, the book contains a lot more foreshadowing of Vincent's intersexuality so I think it fits.). for movie! Benitez I chose a mourning dove, because they are beautiful, have lovely voices, are native to Mexico, and being a type of dove, add to the whole Jesus vibes thing Movie! Benitez has going on (doves symbolize the holy spirit apparently). they have a strong and affectionate bond. Vincent's daemon is less shy about talking to people than the average, perhaps because they had to multitask and reassure people a lot in their ministries. she will pick up his part in conversations with others sometimes. their names are:

Movie=Guadalupe (for the Virgin of Guadalupe, a version of the virgin Mary and patron of Mexico. Vincent always calls her Lupe)

book= Asa (for a biblical king/healer, but it also means hope in tagalog, I like the idea of a non-europeanized naming tradition for daemons too. He mostly calls her terms of endearment tho)

Bellini: in the book he is described as being very elegant and having an aloof grace to him (or at least lomeli thinks so) with an undercurrent of neuroticism, and a swan just felt right. swans and other waterbirds are known for being graceful on top while paddling for their life beneath the surface. specifically his daemon is a mute swan (i imagine the appeal of a pope with a daemon that has beautiful pure white wings also contributed to the general assumption that he was the heir apparent before the conclave). in the movie, he is a lot more outwardly agitated and tense, real prey animal energy, so I made her a rabbit. Bellini and his daemon are very good at multitasking to get work done, to the point that his daemon has her own secretary, but they don't talk to eachother much in private any more, maybe they start again after their argument with Lawrence/Lomeli pushes them to self reflection. her name is:

movie and book = Maria (for mother Mary, because catholics love her, and because I really like the fanon that Aldo's middle name is Maria. I don't see a need to have two different names for the different versions)

I have many more thoughts on daemons for other characters, but these are the ones I have been thinking about most

[herweirdass]

what more can i say | clark kent

synopsis: every time you and clark have plans, he flakes because he’s secretly saving the world. based on the song, “what more can i say,” by the notations.

the needle drops on vinyl, scratching before it finds the groove. the living room glows amber with soft light, shadows dancing against your walls while “what more can i say” spills from the speakers.

you’re sitting on the edge of the couch in your robe, hair wrapped, legs tucked up under you. the food’s gone cold on the table. two plates. again. untouched.

your fingers toy with your necklace, your foot tapping slowly to the beat — not because you’re relaxed, but because you’re trying not to cry.

he said he’d be here.

“you’re hurting me, baby. you don’t know what it feels like.”

you sing along under your breath. it’s your song. or at least, it used to be. back when clark would hold you in the kitchen and kiss your cheek while you swayed. when he looked at you like you were his whole world. when he showed up.

now he just… vanishes. late nights. missed calls. empty promises and excuses that never quite line up.

you check your phone again.

9:47 pm.

no text. no missed call.

you let out a breath, slow and shaky, and shake your head as you stand.

then there’s a knock at the door. soft, hesitant.

you hesitate too. because you already know it’s him.

you open the door, and there he is. glasses crooked, tie loose, hair tousled like he’s been through a windstorm. he’s holding flowers — crushed from how tightly he’s been gripping them.

“i’m sorry,” he breathes, already stepping inside.

you step back, letting the door swing shut behind him, arms folded over your chest.

“you’re always sorry, clark.”

he winces, setting the flowers on your kitchen counter. “i got caught up—”

“don’t,” you cut him off, holding up a hand. “don’t give me another lie. i waited. again. i cooked. again. and you didn’t even text.”

his eyes drop. “i know. i know, and you’re right. i don’t deserve you.”

“then why do you keep acting like i’ll always be here?” you say, voice cracking. “what is it, clark? you’re seeing someone else? got a double life or something?”

he freezes.

you scoff, brushing past him. “you know what? forget it. just go.”

“wait—” his hand reaches out, gentle on your wrist. “please… i can’t explain it. not right now. but i promise it’s not what you think. it’s never been anyone else.”

“then what is it?!” you snap, turning to face him. “you disappear for hours. sometimes days. you cancel every plan. every date. i barely even know who you are anymore, clark.”

his face crumbles. his jaw clenches like he’s holding back something massive.

“i wish i could tell you,” he says quietly. “i wish i could give you everything. but i… i’m not free to.

you shake your head, tears stinging. “then maybe i shouldn’t be either.”

the music plays on behind you — low and heartbreaking.

“what more can i say…”

he steps forward, but you step back.

he opens his mouth, then closes it again, like the truth’s pressing against his teeth, fighting to be free. but instead, he just says your name.

soft. aching.

you don’t look at him. you can’t. not when it hurts this much.

you stand there in the stillness, arms wrapped around yourself, wondering what it is that always makes you fall so hard for men who never stay.

he steps back, sure — gives you space when you flinch like his presence is too much — but he doesn’t walk out the door.

you wipe your cheek roughly, sniffling as you turn toward the window. the skyline flickers with city light.

you hear his voice again. soft, like it’s fighting through a lump in his throat.

“i’m so sorry, baby. this is killing me.”

you blink.

you turn.

he’s standing there, not like superman, not like clark the reporter — but just clark. vulnerable. tired. stripped down to the ache in his voice and the shake in his hands. glasses crooked. eyes red.

“i know i don’t have the right to say that,” he murmurs, voice breaking. “and i know this is my fault. all of it. but… every time you look at me like you’re about to give up on us, it feels like i can’t breathe.”

he steps closer.

“i’m hurting, baby. and i know i deserve it. but damn… it still hurts.”

your bottom lip trembles.

you want to be angry. you should be angry. but the pain in his voice splits you right down the middle.

“you think it doesn’t hurt me too?” you whisper. “you think i don’t lie awake wondering if i’m the fool for holding on?”

he nods, chest rising and falling like he’s run here. maybe he did.

“i can’t tell you everything,” he says. “not yet. but i swear to you, on my life, it’s not another woman. it’s not that i don’t love you.”

he steps even closer, voice low, urgent.

“i love you more than i’ve ever loved anything.”

and for a second, it’s just the two of you. the record still spinning on a loop. the air between your bodies buzzing with everything unsaid.

you look at him — really look.

how his suit’s still damp near the collar. how there’s a faint burn mark at his cuff. how his hands shake like he’s trying to hold something back.

you inhale.

“if you love me,” you say slowly, “then let me in. you don’t have to tell me everything. just… be honest, clark.”

clark presses his lips together.

you see it — the war behind his eyes. he truth begging to be free.

he opens his mouth.

closes it.

then finally—

“there’s something i want to show you,” he says quietly. “not now. not here. but soon. just… please. give me one more chance to show you i’m not walking away.”

you nod and he exhales like you just pulled him back from the edge of a building.

and outside, somewhere in metropolis, the city keeps spinning.

but in here? it’s quiet.

the song finishes on vinyl, fading out like the end of a dream.

“what more can i say?”

[joan-deactivated20230204]

as much as i was excited for him to come out, ive found logos really boring to play with. s1 isn't a super interesting afk skill, but its really s3 that disappoints me- arknights has a lot of "s3 deletes everything" skills, and by the time of logos's release it just felt like more of the same. necrosis feels like it could at least enable cool synergies with nymph s3, but in practice its just a tool to kill more things faster. it never feels like there's a lot of thought that goes into playing with logos, which is disappointing when his status as "one of the best casters in the game" means im bringing him to a lot of the high-end content where i want to be thinking really hard.

dorothy is one of my all time faves, and i really enjoy how much of her strength comes down to player skill. i remember on release she was underhyped because her numbers weren't that crazy and the application of her traps was unclear, but in practice she's occupied a niche of being really powerful if you know how to apply her to the current stage. shes ended up as part of nearly all of my cc clears since she was released because it turns out, global range on stun/slow is a really useful tool for stalling enemies whose stats are buffed to hell. really good as an IS opener too, even if the competition for 6* specialists keeps her out of n15+ meta.

nearl the radiant feels like shes had ups and downs with how good she is, but she's occupied a special place in my heart with s2: whenever im struggling with a stage, and i have an extra slot in my party but i know that my setup doesnt give me anymore deployments to work with, i always just slot in nearl s2. ignoring deployment limits, aoe stun, solid dps, altogether she's been my emergency button to stop an enemy from leaking or get that last bit of damage in. she comes up a lot for me in high-end content as well: deployment limits in cc? just put nearl in. got a guard voucher right before the boss in is? im sure there'll be a use for nearl. its a very powerful and fun way to engage with the game, and im a bit surprised that HG still hasn't gone back to the well of ignoring deployment limits.

i never got the hang of fartooth, when i tried her out a while back she felt like she was too situational to find uses for, and not strong enough to warrant that kind of niche complexity. i know that she was a not uncommon feature in cc for a little while, so clearly theres some potential there, but i never enjoyed playing with her enough to get the hang of it.

theres a lot of operators who i built and havent used because they feel too weak, but ill highlight swire alter. i think her kit reads really fun, and im looking forward to seeing if her upcoming IS module can breathe some new life into her, but i feel like merchants as a whole suffer from a chronic issue of "why would i limit my dp generation for this mediocre of a payoff?". i feel similarly about lee but in his case, status immunity means that he has a niche (like the last knight!) whereas swire feels like she's got nothing atm.

general arknights design questions out of curiosity, reblog with your answers to any or all of them:

what 6*s do you think are strong in a boring way?

what 6*s do you think are strong in an interesting way?

what 6*s do you just really like using, regardless of how strong they are considered to be?

what 6*s did you just not like using at all when you tried them?

are there any 6* you refuse to use because of their reputation as strong or weak? (so unrelated to disliking the character for whatever reason)

[inseobts]

Roses or Swords - choose your story pt.4

zoro x fem!reader + sanji x fem!reader

how it works

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

tags: love triangle, secret admirer, slow burn, crew dynamics... the rest tags will come with your choices.

words count: 1.9k

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

“If you’re not too tired… the stars are nice tonight,” Sanji says “We could… just sit. If you want.”

He doesn’t look at you. His voice is low. No flirting. No masks.

Just a quiet offer.

Just Sanji being serious, quiet, almost nervous. He won’t meet your eyes, like he’s worried he asked too much.

You nod “I’d like that.”

He lets out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding, and gives you a small smile. No words. Just turns and leads the way toward the upper deck.

It’s quiet up there.

The kind of quiet you don’t get often on a ship full of chaos and noise. The kind of quiet that feels safe.

The sea glows dark and endless around you. Above, the stars are scattered in the big dark sky. You sit near the edge of the deck, side by side, not too close, not too far.

He doesn’t light a cigarette.

You notice.

Instead, he leans back on his hands and looks up.

Neither of you speak for a long moment.

“I didn’t mean to make it worse,” he says, voice low “With the last gift.”

You turn your head toward him, but he still doesn’t look at you.

“I just… I saw how happy you were before. And I thought maybe if you thought it was from him, you’d… or maybe that he’d…” He swallows “I don’t know what I thought.”

You don’t interrupt him.

“You looked so happy when you made that petal heart,” he adds “You smiled in a way I hadn’t seen before. And I just… wanted you to keep smiling.”

You finally speak “So you gave me a reason to.”

He winces “No. I gave you a lie. That’s not the same.”

Another long silence.

You lean back beside him, copying his posture, looking at the stars above.

“You were right, though,” you say “I did smile.”

Sanji breathes out a soft, bitter laugh “Yeah. At him.”

You don’t say anything to that. Not yet.

“I’m not asking for anything.” he says suddenly, and now he finally does look at you “I just don’t want to hide anymore. That’s all.”

The way he’s looking at you now is too honest. You see it clearly for the first time. There’s no mystery left. It was him all along. And not just the gifts.

Every quiet glance.

Every unsaid thing.

Every time he complimented someone else just to see if you’d look back at him.

It was always him.

And now he’s here. No roses. No boxes. No charm to distract you.

Just Sanji and the stars.

The wind is soft against your skin, carrying the scent of the sea.

You’ve both fallen into a comfortable silence again.

Then you speak, voice low but steady “You don’t have to keep giving me things.”

Sanji tilts his head, curious. You glance at him, trying not to look too serious, but still meaning every word.

“I mean it. The gifts were beautiful. They meant something. But I don’t want you to feel like you need to keep proving something to me.”

He doesn’t answer right away but you see the shift in his eyes.

So you continue, trying to make it clearer “I don’t want to sound materialistic, or… make you think I only smiled because of what I was given. I smiled because someone cared. Because I felt seen.”

Sanji breathes in like he might speak but he holds it and just listens.

“And now I know who it was,” you add, softer, “and that means more than any gift.”

Sanji lets out a long, exaggerated sigh, flopping back onto the deck like a dramatist in a tragic play.

“Well, there goes my next plan,” he groans “Was gonna carve your name into a rare sea pearl and bake it into a soufflé.”

You blink “You were not.”

“Of course not. Pearls would ruin the texture,” he sniffs “Please respect the soufflé.”

You laugh… a real one, full and bright, and he grins wide, basking in it.

“God, you’re such a dork” you say, smiling so wide it almost hurts.

“Unapologetically,” he says, dramatically flicking an invisible strand of hair from his face “But I’m your dork now. At least part-time.”

That makes you laugh harder. He sits up a little straighter, watching your expression shift from amusement to something warmer, like sunlight after a storm.

Then your voice turns quiet again “You really knew…”

He looks at you “Knew what?”

“That I wanted it to be Zoro. Even before I knew it myself.”

There’s no bitterness in your tone, just an open truth.

Sanji breathes through his nose, gaze dropping to the deck.

“Yeah,” he says “I knew.”

You look away too, fingers brushing the edge of your sleeve “So why keep going? Why keep doing all that?”

“Because,” he says softly, “Part of me thought maybe if I showed you the kind of love you deserved, one day… you'd want it from me instead.”

Your breath catches a little.

He notices, but he doesn’t push, doesn’t press.

“And if you don’t?” he shrugs, “That’s okay too. I just wanted you to feel loved. Even if in secret.”

Your chest aches, but not in a bad way.

He means every word. No pressure. No claim. Just truth.

“I do,” you whisper “I did.”

Then, for no reason at all, you chuckle “You really were out there making charms and arranging perfect deliveries like a love-struck teenager?”

Sanji presses a hand to his heart “I’m wounded by your tone.”

“You're ridiculous.”

“Yet charming.”

“Yet ridiculous.”

You both laugh again and when the laughter fades, it leaves something gentler behind. You’re sitting side by side, your shoulders almost touching.

He doesn’t reach for you, but this time, you’re the one who leans just a little closer.

You look up at the stars. Then you say “This one’s my favorite night so far.”

Sanji smiles, eyes half-lidded with warmth “Because it finally came with a face?”

“Because it finally came with yours.”

He doesn’t say anything back but the way his fingers twitch beside yours says everything.

Morning sun creeps over the edge of the ship, golden and quiet. The crew is already loud as Luffy is begging for more meat, Usopp and Chopper are arguing about who won their game, and Nami is yelling at both of them to eat without knocking over the table again.

But your world is quiet.

Sanji approaches with a warm plate in hand, steam rising in gentle curls. He sets it down in front of you with a bow and a teasing smile.

“Your royal breakfast, my lady. Crafted by the hands of a secret admirer, now slightly less secret, but just as desperate for your affection.”

You laugh. Soft and genuine “You’re such an idiot.”

“And yet, you smile every time.” he says, winking.

He leans slightly closer as if to say something else…

“Oi.”

The interruption slices the moment in two.

Zoro stands a few feet away, arms crossed, his voice flat but tight around the edges “Can we talk?”

Your smile fades. So does Sanji’s. His expression hardens just for a second, but then he straightens, nods once, and turns to walk away.

“I’ll go get the others’ plates” he mutters.

You notice the way his shoulders drop as he disappears toward the kitchen.

Your gaze lingers on the plate in front of you.

“After I finish here.” you say calmly, picking up your fork.

Zoro blinks “Can’t we go talk now?”

You don’t look at him.

“If you could avoid me for days,” you say, voice still quiet but sharp beneath the softness, “then you can wait a little longer now.”

The words don’t bite but they hold weight.

Sanji hears it and he pauses, hiding a faint smirk behind a cigarette.

Zoro stays quiet, he doesn’t argue. He sighs through his nose and sits down next to you, grabbing his own plate, eating in silence.

The crew remains loud. Robin turns a page in her book with a smile. Brook hums a tune under his breath. Franky is already talking about a new cola-powered grill idea.

But at this table, it’s just you, Zoro, and a quiet Sanji returning now and then to refill cups or clear plates.

He never says anything but his eyes flick to you every few minutes, checking in, soft and silent, and you notice, so you glance up, meet his gaze, and offer a small, private smile.

You lift another bite of food, savor it like you mean it.

“This is perfect.” you say quietly, just loud enough for him to hear.

Sanji doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t need to.

He turns before Zoro can see the grin trying to pull at his lips.

Zoro sees it anyway, and so he stops eating.

You push your plate forward with a satisfied sigh and lean back in your seat “Alright. I’m done.”

Zoro glances sideways, and before you can even stand, he mutters under his breath “Can we go talk now, you damn princess?”

You narrow your eyes at him and smack the back of his head, not hard, but also not gentle either “Do not act like this was all my fault, you dumbass.”

He grunts, rubbing his head like a sulky kid “Tch.”

Sanji watches the whole thing as he places another plate in front of Luffy. His eyes flick to you, lingering, not tense exactly, but… alert, guarded.

You stand and follow Zoro as he leads the way out of the kitchen, but right before you step through the doorway, you pause and turn around.

Sanji is still standing behind the counter, wiping his hands on a towel, pretending not to watch.

You catch his gaze and offer him a small, soft smile, like a whisper saying: it’s okay, I’ve got this.

Sanji freezes. Then slowly, his features melt into a small smile back, gentle and full of trust.

Only when you see it you finally step out of the room.

You and Zoro stand near the edge of the deck now, just outside the range of the others’ voices. It’s quiet. Still.

Zoro has his arms crossed, back resting against the railing, eyes focused somewhere far out at sea.

You wait.

He doesn't speak right away, and when he finally does, he doesn't look at you.

“I… should’ve said something earlier.” he mutters, almost too quiet.

You blink “You think?”

Zoro winces slightly but doesn’t fight back “I didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to say it. I just… didn’t want to make it worse.”

You exhale, leaning beside him but not quite touching “You didn’t have to yell, Zoro.”

“I know.”

“And you didn’t have to disappear everytime.”

“I know.”

He rubs the back of his neck, still avoiding your eyes like they burn.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” he adds after a beat “About… you not knowing anything about me. That was… bullshit.”

You stare at him “Why’d you say it then?”

Zoro is quiet for a long time, then, finally, he looks at you… not angry, not cold. Just raw and strangely… shy.

“Because you were smiling at me.”

That catches you off guard.

“You smiled at me like I was the one behind all those things. Like I… meant something more than I knew how to deal with.”

You don't interrupt him. You let him speak. It's rare when he does.

“It scared the hell out of me,” he admits, softer now “And I messed it all up.”

The silence that follows isn’t awkward.

It’s heavy. Full of choices you haven’t made yet.

Tag List: @merrymars - @bubblefishiepop

[kotabear--24]

Imagine Andrew’s senior year. Him and Neil have been ‘nothing’ for a few years now, they’re steady, committed, and so deeply ingrained that incoming freshmen don’t even ask questions about them anymore.

Andrew’s getting offers from literally everywhere, and the highest-paying one? Baltimore. He hasn’t mentioned it to Neil, hasn’t wanted him to stress about what isn’t his to choose, especially since Neil wouldn’t be choosing with Andrew's priorities in mind.

Namely, providing for Neil, who will be losing 80% of his check immediately. They’ve seen Kevin and Jean struggling; he doesn’t want that for Neil, too.

He doesn’t know who told Neil, but Neil bursts through the door with that godawful temper of his, genuine anger and - fuck, that’s hurt he’s fighting to hide - a million other emotions dancing across his face. “You are not moving to Baltimore,” he says, quiet fury practically screaming through the dorm.

Andrew stares at him and waits. It’s usually the best way to handle the rare times Neil’s temper gets away from him with Andrew, but this time, he just gets angrier. “You will not move to my father’s backyard, Andrew, not after everything we’ve-“

“I was under the impression this way my life and career were discussing,” Andrew interrupts, defiant and smarting at Neil’s audacity.

Neil turns white - and that’s telling, because if he were angrier, he’d flush darker. This whiteness, this blood draining from his face as his eyes widen - that’s fear. “He was right,” he says in terror. “You’re really considering it.”

“I’m verbally committing Monday,” Andrew tells him. It's a lie, technically; he hadn't firmly decided yet, but he's angry and feeling petty now. “It’s a one ye-“

“If you want out, then just say it,” Neil blurts out, shocking Andrew into silence, “don’t - don’t get yourself killed.” He spits the word, angry and scared. He steps back once, then a second step for good measure. His hands are shaking. “If you want out of - of us, this,” he gestures between the two of them vaguely, “you can do it without putting yourself in danger.”

Andrew almost gaped at Neil. As it is, he stares for what feels like hours. Finally, he steps forward and Neil, the little fool, doesn’t step back to match it. “If I want out?” He asks, voice calm, slow. But snakes are like that, too, at first. “If I… want… out.” Neil stares at him. Andrew steps forward again. “I was not aware this,” he mocks Neil’s earlier gesture between them, “was something that needed escaping from. Do you feel that way, little rabbit?” The thought winds around his throat like a noose. He couldn’t imagine Neil wanting out, couldn’t imagine Neil being out -

“Make a deal with me,” Neil pleads.

Andrew shakes his head. “We are far past the expiration date for new deals, Abram,” he says solemnly.

Neil looks desperate, and then he looks angry again. “Fuck you,” he spits. Andrew is, again, shocked when he sees tears welling up. “Are you still seeing Bee? Are you - did I miss a sign? Are you so eager to get away from me you’d rather die? Andrew!” Neil finally shouts when Andrew turns away from him, unable to stomach the panic in Neil’s eyes. “What did I do? Why are you angry at me? Why do you want to hurt me like this?!” The yelling is getting louder and louder, but at this final accusation, Andrew snaps.

He turns around and pins Neil to the door with hands on his shoulders, afraid he’d squeeze too hard if he placed them on his neck. Angrily, Andrew says, “I have been protecting you for years. I haven’t hurt you in ages. Why would I now?” It’s not entirely true - at least, not to Andrew - but it’s Neil’s truth, and the only truth Neil would calm down at hearing.

Neil’s eyes are wide and confused, and one tear falls. Andrew absently wipes it with a finger and returns the dampened hand to Neil’s shoulder. “You’re signing with Baltimore,” he says, voice breaking. “You didn’t think that would hurt me? To - to put yourself so close to my father’s people? I can’t - “ Go there, Andrew knows he wants to say. He won’t be able to visit. Andrew knows. I can’t protect you there. Another truth - but Andrew was never the target, was he?

Andrew sighs. “They’re offering nine million for one year and two advertisement deals, Neil,” he tells him. “During your busiest year. You wouldn’t be able to visit even if I were still in Palmetto.” He presses his forehead to Neil’s. “No other team is offering a one year. They’re all longer commitments. If I kill this first year, I can have any team I want. I can sign a team close to you, maybe even with you.”

Neil still looks terrified. Andrew digs deep and focuses on what Bee’s been telling him, urging him to speak his whole piece when he can. He thinks he can at least get more out than this. “It’ll be a hard year,” he admits, and forces out the words, “But I can do it…for us. For our future.”

There is silence. Andrew manages to look at Neil’s face and sees another tear has fallen. Andrew looks away, but doesn’t move his body away.

Neil makes a hurt sound in the back of his throat and Andrew finally looks again, but Neil is sniffling a little bit and wiggling a hand between them to wipe his own eyes. Andrew straightens up and backs off a step.

“Good?” Andrew checks. Neil lets out a water laugh.

Good,” he agrees, then adds, “You’re at least at 101%, now, though.”

Andrew rolls his eyes and lets Neil kiss him gently. “How’d you even find out?”

Neil laughs in his face for thinking he’d give his source up, but Andrew’s already scrolling through his mental rolodex to figure out who it was.

[starconstruction]

Hey can you please do a yunjin x male reader smut where they’ve been dating for a bit and go out for readers birthday jus fluff and vanilla sex thank u

The Greatest Gift of All

Yunjin x Male Reader (Smut)

Smut Tags: oral, missionary, creampie, vanilla, love bombing.

I put the most general presents I could think of, sorry if you've never wanted one of those... Hope you enjoy.

Word Count: 3021

Your birthday usually isn't the most eventful of days, eat some takeout, lay in bed, say thank you to anyone who offers a congratulations/happy birthday. Then go to sleep, a comfortable ritual if not a bit boring.

Things are different this year though, because you aren't alone anymore.

Huh Yunjin. Your girlfriend, the sweetest girl you've met. It's been a blissful 8 months, meeting in a shoe shop of all places. Her gaze caught your eyes while fumbling through shoes, real fairytale stuff. She came over, you started talking, the rest is history.

"So. What would you like to do for your birthday?" Yunjin asked the morning of, giving you the infinite expanse of options in this mundane town to pick from. Not that you had that many options, but the activity does not make the event.

Although, habits are hard to break. "Would rather just stay in here, probably. Easier." You were laying at the bottom of your shared bed, inches away from Yunjin's legs who was resting in her half (though both halves were hers)

"Really? I mean, come on. That's so boring!" She's right, but you don't have a remote clue on where to go or what to do.

"Yeah, but" You gave what was an attempt of a shrug, difficult to do pressed in a mattress. Avoiding the luminous sunlight flowing between your shitty blackout curtains that didn't work.

"No buts, we are doing something! I'll pick if you don't!" She had far too much energy for 7 in the morning, radiating more than the obnoxious light to your left. Her cheeriness was a fantastic motivator, a real beacon.

"How are you so energetic? sigh You can pick something if you want, always been the better planner." The immediate gasp of approval made you chuckle.

"Yea! I'll keep it simple– since I know you don't like me making a massive show of things. Anyways let's go downstairs!" And in a moment Yunjin was up, flying out of bed long before an objection could be mustered.

"Alright..." You said to yourself, she was miles away. You took a moment to brush your teeth before heading down, she could wait a second.

You slid down the last few stairs in sheer tiredness, falling on your feet with a thump, at least you are still standing. You approached the living room door, mysteriously closed. Your hand grasped onto the cool metal handle, pushing it forward. The sight in front of you something unpredictable.

Yunjin sat on the sofa, two boxes, one in each sideways direction. Both medium in size, the entire room populated with red and purple balloons. The faint smell of orange wafting throughout the entire room.

"Surprise! Happy birthday!" She shouted, throwing her heads into the air in celebration. "Do you like it?"

"I love it! – when did you have time to set this up?"

She leaned back slightly, preparing to describe her mastermind scheme in all its glory. "Sneaked down while you were sleeping, came back upstairs and slid back into bed." Not the craziest story but you were impressed none the less, how she managed to get out without you waking up is a task never succeeded before.

"Very impressive, thank you. Really." It still felt weird to have any form of effort directed into such an inconsequential day, but it felt nice, great even. Your heart aching in appreciation.

"Don't mention it, you did similar for my birthday, but come over here I have gifts!" She was a gift to your life in its own right, but material goods are tangible love. You'll take whatever she gives you with joy.

You moved over, sitting in the smallest crevice between the boxes and Yunjin. Accepting the minimal space, her thigh brushing against yours. "So, my first gift is..." She leaned over, picking up the right box in order to increase your range to sit. But you didn't move, sitting against Yunjin.

The box ended up on your lap, wrapped in the same colour of red and purple as the balloons. "Open it neatly..." You followed her simple request, fingers searching for the weak spot in the paper, opening it on the seams she left intact for you. Slowly it gave way for what was inside, the thing you've had put in your wish-list for longer than it was possible to remember.

A smoothie maker. Put there entirely on a whim, as if to say 'if you win the lottery maybe' well that hasn't happened, financially at least. Regardless its a neat gift. "Thank you, this is sweet." The emotions ran rampant in your body, a whole swarm of butterflies migrating from one quadrant to the next.

"Don't thank me yet, I still have another gift, save your praise for the finale thank you very much." Your bad, definitely. Yunjin shifted, grabbing the box next to her. Adjusting herself to face you head on.

You opened the second gift, somehow even better, an ice cream maker. You smiled. "We are going to get so fat after this. But this rocks, so thank you, again."

"Definitely a good reason to get fat, now put it down! I have one final gift." You quickly complied, stacking it on the other box. Getting a millisecond to look back at her before she pulled you in by your pajama shirt, soft lips pressing against yours. Full of love and passion, letting the seconds linger on. Enjoying each other's embrace.

She pulled away, "Now I'm out of gifts, happy birthday." She repeated herself, picking between three is slightly unfair. But Yunjin's kisses blew the other two items out of the water.

"I love you."

"I know, I'm perfect and wonderful. We'll go out later for some food, but for now.. I think we should cuddle." You can't turn down a request that perfect, flawless even, especially when she's giving you those fucking puppy eyes. No choice but to concede, letting the warm blanket of Yunjin cascade over you. Her head nestling into your chest, a satisfied sigh escaping her lips. "There we go."

You knew how to complete the picture, shoving the actual blanket you two had over the top, turning on the old TV to some random movie and letting the hours pass, the shared body heat and soft skin rubbing together pleasant.

The rest of the morning/afternoon was fantastic, getting to experiment with the two new trinkets she bought you. Makes sense why she went on a last minute shop of products neither of you two would ever buy. Making a smoothie out of banana and blueberry, sharing it out of the same cup. Yunjin seemed very happy about that.

Now it was night-time, she had dragged you out to your favourite fast food place, both of you wearing the most casual attires. She looked fucking beautiful, brown hair falling down to her shoulders, wearing the nicest auburn shirt that you got her for her birthday. She smiled at you in the seat adjacent, both of you cooped in the booth in the corner, the most private seats.

"Surprisingly busy today." You remarked, looking at the group of people congregating by the counter.

"Yep, got in just before the horde arrived. Talk about luck." Oh you could talk about luck all day, especially with Yunjin in the room. The food was divided between you two, pieces of fried chicken. Deep fried to perfection. "You look great today, by the way." She slid in that complement smoothly, she'd say that even if you looked ratty, but your cheeks started to burn red.

"Thanks..." You replied meekly, opting to take a bite out of the chicken to avoid how embarrassed you felt, crumbling under the smallest complement.

"Aw come on, don't be so embarrassed! Can terrorise me with complements but can't take a simple one?" Yunjin shook her head in faux disbelief. Taking a bite of her own.

"You look cute flustered, it's not my fault." You defended yourself.

"And you don't? Should look in a mirror more." Yunjin smiled, unsuccessfully goading another response out of you. Instead you just, stared, admiring her. Something she finds endearing most days. Her brown hair catching the fluorescent, almost hospital lights which made it shine.

Her lips curled the smallest amount, morphing into a smirk, you knew that look. It meant many things but here? Definitely confidence. "Checking me out? I'm honoured." She took another bite. Even in her most innocuous, she looked divine.

"I'm, yeah. Can't help myself." She flashed you a smile.

There was a tranquil moment, food becoming the focus. In the booth there was silence, outside of it was the backdrop. Called orders, muffled family discussions. Stuff to focus on, her presence was enough. A touch of joy to your otherwise mundane birthdays. You held the tears back, an unnecessary outburst could spoil the moment.

"Good?" The words left your mouth involuntarily.

"Yep." The short exchange made you laugh faintly.

The food started to disappear, devoured by the hungry pair. Lingering in social areas wasn't really your thing, even after meeting her. She sensed your discomfort like smoke, guiding you out of noisy environment before it became too much.

"You know, I think I have one last gift for you..." Yunjin whispered into your ear, getting into the car.

Something told you that you'd have to wait and see.

-

Yunjin didn't make you wait long, the two of you got upstairs within seconds. Turning on music to play in the background, the only light on was a dim lamp. The atmosphere was intimate and thick with love. "Happy birthday." She purred, taking you in another kiss. Her tongue dipping into your mouth, running all over your bottom lip.

You wanted even more, pushing her deeper, tongue reaching out to passionately dance with hers. Rolling them over each other in a bout of affection. You pulled away when oxygen depleted, faces resting inches apart. "Fuck..." You husked against her saliva coated lips.

"Lay back for me, this days all about you." She gently shoved you back, turning up the music. "And as such, I'm going to do something special." You knew exactly what she was referring to, her head lowering down to your crotch. Giving head wasn't exactly something she was comfortable with, the idea was floated around once or twice but she didn't seem wanting. So you dropped it, but it seemed like today things were going to change.

"Yunjin, you don't have to do something you don't want to." You stated, her eyes looked up, fluttering slightly before locking with yours.

"I know, but I want to. I've been practicing with my dildo, I can do this." The confession spilled from her effortlessly, she meant business. Fingers grabbing onto the waistband of your pants, tugging them down to feet, wrestling them off with the faintest ounce of struggle.

You were left in just your boxers now (Your shirt got thrown off mid make out) erect at just the smallest action from Yunjin, straining against the oppressive fabric. She had mercy, getting rid of your underwear, leaving you completely exposed to the elements and her.

"You are so hard..." Yunjin's fingers wrapped around your cock, dribbling spit down onto your tip. The light sensation making you buckle for even more. "Let me spoil you today." And that let you relax, she began to stroke your dick slowly. Working her hand up and down. "Just throbbing in my hand." There was wonder in her eyes, rubbing the spit in.

"You are so good at that Yunjin..." She smirked, the appreciation making her move faster, every pump she did felt deliberate, to bring you closer to that sweet ruin.

She leaned closer, lips inches away from your swollen tip. Hot breath wafting over, she looked determined to please. Eyes narrowing slightly as she focused. The first blissful lick ran from your balls to the tip, a precursor of what was to come.

Yunjin was elegant, taking her time with every singular lick. Like a painter and her canvas. Each stroke careful and planned. "I should have done this earlier." You would have to agree.

Her lips started to close around your tip, sucking it firmly while her tongue gave small kitten licks. The pleasure already overwhelming, having to find solace in the bedsheets.

"Mmh, that's fucking good." You groaned, Yunjin wanted to make a real show of it, making seductive eye contact while she sank lower with praise. Taking more of your shaft into her mouth. She wasn't kidding about the practice, there was nothing amateurish about the way she pleasured you. Slow, precise, her mouth a slick warm heaven.

"You look so pretty like this." You whispered, moving the rogue strand of hair that obscured her left eye. Inevitably she tried to take more than she could, harshly gagging on your cock before withdrawing completely, catching her breath. "Shit– are you alright Yunjin?" You asked.

"Y-Yeah.. Yeah. I'm good, just a bit overconfident." Her words were a gasp, chest heaving up and down. "I can continue."

"You don't have to–" She cut off your words, taking your cock back into her warmth, this time she stayed in her limits. Supplementing with her hand, working at your base. "But fuck. You are so good."

Yunjins head bobbed up and down, the dual pleasure required an extreme amount of effort to hold on. Not wanting to let this moment pass. Not yet.

Her cheeks hollowed, the increased pressure made your head mush. "Keep going..." The sensation was utterly intoxicating, how willing your girlfriend was to please.

The feeling started to build in your core, orgasm only inches away. "I'm so close Yunjin, fuuck." Your warning was just in the nick of time, allowing her to pull off just before the first spurt shot into the air, falling onto her fingers. She jerked you off quickly, working you through the forceful orgasm, her fingers were dripping a gooey white. Falling into her palm.

"Wow you enjoyed my birthday gift." She marveled, looking at her prize that coated her hand. Taking long, suggestive licks of your orgasm, a whole list of firsts today. This day a symbol of the next steps being taken in your relationship. "But I think you know we aren't done yet."

She looked perfect post-blowjob, lips swollen and dark with saliva. The smallest amounts of spit coating the corners of her mouth from where she gagged, she looked beautiful. But she didn't give you very long before moving on.

Yunjin began to undress herself, letting you recover from the earth-shattering orgasm you just endured. Throwing her shirt over head, cleaning up could wait until the clock hit 00:00. Next came her bra, unclipped and disposed of. Revealing her perky nipples which you've indulged in more times than you could count. To finish her mission, she pulled her skirt down. Now she was just in her purple panties, darker in the center.

"You can do the honours." Her voice was thick with carnal desire, to have you most intimately. You complied, fingers reaching into the thin fabric. Pulling it down her bare thighs, now completely exposed under your watchful gaze. "I'm on the pill, let's do this properly, fuck me."

Her legs spread apart, inviting you to get between them. You took the invitation happily, already impossibly hard yet again. You rubbed your tip all over Yunjin's wet folds, getting yourself ready to penetrate your girlfriend.

The two of you shared a deep groan as you pushed inside, every sensation most strong, more vivid than before. Without that condom in the way, sex with Yunjin was always euphoric but every previous time paled in comparison to this.

"I love you, god." You cooed, beginning to move, she was wet, tight. Squeezing the life out of you. "So fucking tight."

The desire in the room was palpable, a sweaty mist that descended upon the two of you. There was perfect harmony, every thrust slow and passionate. "I love you too! Fuck... keep fucking me." Like you could if you wanted, she was too fucking inviting for that. Crotches slamming against each other, cock disappearing into her loving hole.

Your mind stayed empty of anything but her, "Oh god, you feel so big, so good!" Yunjin praised, slurring her words. "Faster please!"

You immediately followed her directions, speeding up your thrusts into Yunjin, immediately getting satisfied mewls of pleasure. Her face was etched in pleasure, mouth agape enough to let out those heavy sounds. Eyes struggling to stay open, but the best part was her cheeks were smouldering a bright red.

The two of you were running on pure arousal, fueled by the wet squelching noises fighting to be heard over the music and moans. You were embarrassed at how quickly your orgasm was threatening to emerge again. Trying to focus on anything else to keep the night going.

Nothing.

Nothing came to mind.

It all rotated back to her.

"I'm go–" You couldn't even get the words out, every thrust took too much effort.

"Do it! Fill me up, please!" Yunjin pleaded, clearly chasing that same high you was approaching.

With one final thrust you stopped, burying yourself as deep as possible inside. Giving her the birthday wish she desired, it didn't matter who's day it actually was. Filling her with your cum.

Your orgasm set off a chain reaction, causing her to reach hers at the same time. Her walls clamping down on your sensitive cock, giving one last breathy moan before the two of you came back to earth.

You pulled out, letting your cum flow out onto the bed without a second care. "Wow." You gasped.

"Yeah... that's how I'd put it." Yunjin chuckled, laying there exhausted. "I love you, happy birthday."

"You really like to repeat that, almost forgot what day it is. Love ya."

"Wanna run the bath? Give me a second to catch my breath?" She asked, which you were more than happy to comply with.

"Of course, lay there. We'll clean up tomorrow."

Safe to say she was the greatest gift of them all.

[unholyfudgebiscuits]

Stiles getting a bruise from this week’s supernatural baddie and Derek seeing it for the first time. Everyone else in the pack heals so quickly and he’s never really been around humans long enough to see the consequences of the fights but his wolf snarls when they first notice the discoloration. It’s been a few days since the actual incident but the bruise has only darkened. The red turning into a deep purple. Stiles and Derek get along better now. Since rescuing Boyd and Erica from the vault the years have brought them closer. Derek is well passed accepting Stiles into the pack. It’s the only thing him and Scott seem to share anymore; The human beta who jumps between alphas like a ping-pong ball.

But Stiles is perched on Derek’s couch now, the right side of his face dark and slightly swollen. A cut running down his lip as he clacks away on his laptop.

He smells wrong. The fading remnants of the witches magic still stubbornly sticking to his skin and Derek has to close his fists to keep himself from shifting. His wolf is pacing against his ribs. Instincts making him anxious, and the smell is bad enough but to see the physical mark on his beta is enough to drive him up the wall. Without thinking he crosses the room, grabbing Stiles wrist to pull him from the couch. “What the hell are you do-”

Derek doesn’t let him finish. Just burries his face into his neck and lets out a low, possessive growl as he scrapes his human teeth across his throat. Stiles yelps in surprise, his body going rigid.

“D-Derek if you bite me I swear to god-”

“You don’t smell like me.” Derek says. As if that should be enough to explain whatever the hell this is.

“I don’t… What?” Stiles asks, bewildered. And it’s a testament to how far their relationship has come that he hasn’t pushed him away yet. The fact is not lost to Derek as he takes in his scent. Curiosity and confusion mixed with a slight hint of arousal.

“They bruised you.” Derek says unhelpfully.

“They… are you talking about the witches?” Derek doesn’t respond but he scents him, brushing his cheek against his face and collar. Some of the tension seems to ease out of Stiles shoulders, his hand coming up to rest on Derek’s arm. “Is this some weird territory thing?”

“You don’t smell like me.” He repeats because he’s not sure how else to say it. Not sure how to explain to a human what the physical mark means to him. But Stiles is smart and he should have known by now he’s never really had to explain the dynamics to this human. In some ways Stiles is more wolf than any of the bitten betas.

“You know I usually demand a first date before I let a guy neck me Derek. The least you could offer was to buy me dinner.” Derek is about to snap at him, to demand that isn’t what this is but Stiles is tilting his face to the side. Offering his throat submissively as he brings his hand up to tangle into Derek’s hair. “I guess I’ll make an exception for my alpha.”

“Scott won’t be pleased.” Derek growls and even to himself his voice is more animalistic than human.

“Good thing he isn’t my alpha then.” And that. That startles Derek enough to pull away. To look at him questioningly. Stiles grins. “Come on Derek. He’s like a brother to me and I’d die for him but I joined your pack long before Scott even became an alpha. It’s you. It’s always been you.”

It’s all he can stand. His wolf growls again as he bites down on him, sucking his own bruise into the pale skin.

[godhandler]

[Martial arts coach! Sukuna x down bad!reader, huge age gap, couple of god-complex maniacs pining for each other, kinda fucked relationship dynamics, Sukuna being a tough coach]

1 | 2 | 3

“You’ll kill her like this.” Sukuna’s twin brother deadpans, watching you train from the gallery of the gym. 

“Good, then.” Your yawning coach replies. You’ve been doing pull-ups without a break for half an hour now. Everytime you slack off even a little, Sukuna makes you restart the count from 0 again. Purple veins throb visibly down your triceps. A couple medics linger around you, waiting to be called anytime now. 

“I’m serious, Sukuna.” His twin was a coach in his own time too, before he retired to Sendai to raise Yuuji. He keeps his eyes locked on you. “I know you have plans for her.” 

The twins, grey-pink hair and marble-cut noses, stand in silence for a bit. There is an air of desperation in the gym. The tournament is only two weeks away. The rubber tatami mats are drenched with stinking sweat. Too much pre-workout and electrolyte drinks and plain chicken breasts. Your arms don’t feel yours anymore. 

“She’s quite something.” Sukuna admits, canines out in a grin. “Could be more, still.” 

Perhaps it was the years that they had spent growing up together. Perhaps it was the decades they spent apart. But his twin knew two things then: one, that Sukuna was being honest. Two, it would be disastrous to look into his intentions with you. 

He was a kind man, Sukuna’s twin. He took all of it in the womb, and left nothing for Sukuna. He knew that the seats reserved for your parents by the ringside always remained cold as the stale AC in the arena. He’d seen this story play out a million times before– big man, young girl. Something rotten in their sweet love. Maggot-filled fruit heart. 

He wondered whether to risk bringing it up as Sukuna shouts out across the gym to you: “Oy, you! Yes, you! You’re done with pull-ups. Go over Gojushiho now. Make a mistake and you know what happens.” 

His twin mumbles something about you being half his size for such harsh treatment. But you seem to take no offense. Instead, you shout back in the same volume, quite happy to relax your arms for a bit. “Sho or Dai?”

A couple of boys have stopped punching each other in the head to listen to the two of you shouting from different sides of the huge gym. As have quite a few others.

“What?” Sukuna’s deep voice reverberates in the room. 

“Should I do Gojushiho Sho or Gojushiho Dai?” Your pitch is higher than him, but projects regardless. 

He thinks for a moment before shouting back: “Dai.” 

It occurs to the saner of the twins that perhaps, just perhaps, whatever connection you and his brother shared wasn’t just fucked up on Sukuna’s end. You surely were pulling your own weight in passion. 

The centre of the gym was divided into 4 main areas, divided by thick curtains to cut the noise. A exercise zone without tatami matting with all the equipment, a soft-matted zone for general sparring practice, a hard-matted zone for kata. The fourth zone was by far the largest– private areas for the top students to practice by themselves. Surrounding all of it were rounds of seating, with the gallery box high enough to see the entire gym over the curtains. 

The very same curtains slide past your cheeks as you walked from the exercise zone to your private mat. Footsteps that every student had memorised thud over the wood flooring– Sukuna stalks over, going through each zone to reach yours at the end. Even the lowest ranked in his gym was at least a 3rd Dan, so soon it was a crowd of black belts rushing over to bow to the coach; traditions ingrained through painful years of training. You were the only one who didn’t rush out to bow, since he was coming to you anyway. If he could get away with another murder charge, he’d like to stick his fingers down the cracks in your skull, pry open the walnut and figure out what, exactly, gave you the audacity. 

His twin could probably answer that. 

Some animal scent, pheromone bullshit, but Sukuna can't help but feel his skin burn at the sight of your face. You glow warm, hard heat and fatigue, tongue dry. The very same look after you tease an orgasm out of yourself, he'll bet. Sweat drips from your temple to the cut of your jaw, drops to your collarbone and disappears under the neckline of your gi. Crimson sports bra, he could tell when you leant forward to bow. Your heaving, tired breast. Red meat of your beefy arms, ones he’s cultivated out of you. 

He sits on the tatami right in front of you. “Begin.”

Gojushiho is not exactly a hard kata if you take every single move by itself. Unlike Kata Unsu (tricky jumps and timing) or Empi (delicate gesturing), the main point of Gojushiho is to perfect the basic stances that it is compiled of. And the fact that it is pretty fucking long. But this is the one that Sukuna has decided that you will perform at the kata part of the tournament, and you weren’t really in a position to refuse. 

Sukuna wasn’t a kind trainer. If he cared enough to train you, he’d beat the living crap out of you till you were the best you could be. All the greats he’d produced – Higuruma, Gojo, Uraume, Maki – they all swore by the efficacy of his teaching style, mostly because they had never visited a single therapist yet. That’s how it goes in this art. Coaches are harsh, tournaments harsher. The moment Sukuna sat down to watch you perform the kata, the medics serendipitously collected just outside your curtain, so did Yuuji and Megumi and Kamo, and even his twin kept his eyes peeled. 

They were waiting for a slip up. One foot out of place by an inch, one eye movement delayed by a beat. Gojushiho was still a newly learnt kata for you. 

“It’s going okay till now.” Yuuji whispered. He’d stuck a wet finger to clean his ear wax out just so he could hear through the curtain better. Any growl of rage, a pained yelp– they had to intervene before he broke your bones or worse. 

Megumi nodded. Sukuna was terrible to him, once actually breaking his bones, while he went far easier on Yuuji. Something he read in his sister's psychology textbook: theories on underdeveloped emotional range leading to an inability to express approval through anything but cruelty. Still, leftover chivalry, remnant bushido kept him trying to protect you however he could. Not that he could, not very much. You were far stronger than Megumi. 

“I think he really hates her.” Yuuji noted, listening to Sukuna on the other side of the curtain yelling at you for not breathing out hard enough at a strike point. Pretty rough words. 

Megumi shook his head. He’d have gotten beat for this mistake. Page 351: ... expression of love as a cover for narcissism, where inflicting cruelty on the other is seen as the same as cruelty onto the self. “It’s something worse.” 

………………….. 

Every time you walk out of the gym, one or two cameras flash. Nothing compared to the amount of flashes the star boys face, the favourites of the ringside gamblers. No one bets on women’s sports, not even if they’re trained by Sukuna himself. Still, you can relate to wanting pictures of your beloved martial artists. Back when you were a kid, you traded a golden Pikachu card for a signed poster of Sukuna, hanging it over your bedroom, having him keep watch over you through the years. 

But now that you get to see him everyday, it’s hard not to be derisive of those idiots who look at a picture of Ryomen Sukuna and call him handsome. What do they know? Pictures, especially those of Sukuna, lie. His beauty is in privacy: the quirk of a brow or a movement of the arm, the casual disregard towards you. Exhilarating. You remember that bedroom poster, a fresh click of his first international win 28 years ago. You’d think he was just some sweaty kid with a black eye and firecracker grin canines-out, winner’s belt slung over shoulder, name to be lost to the annals of WWE history. Because it’s just a lying picture, and Sukuna is too… too immense to be conveyed in one image. Every single person who witnessed that moment in the flesh, 28 years ago, hearts thumping in the audience seats, knew– they just did– that they had just seen the trigger of a supernova. 

Watching you crack open Todo’s skull within 42 seconds, Sukuna finally understood what they felt. This was it. His second coming. The Alexander reincarnated. 

Even though all he showed was an asbestos-dry smile and a ‘decent’, he was ecstatic, close to a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long, long time: fear. 

He wanted to drive your face through the cement walls– How dare you? How dare whatever’s wrong with him be exactly what’s wrong with you too? How dare you be so insatiably hungry? How fucking dare you be this perfect?

He’s been running out of things to criticize about your kata. Sooner or later, he’ll have to move on to practicing your sparring, now. You’ve already stamped your fists through every single other trainee in the gym (and some outside too), you’ve won over them all– all his favourite boys, often enough to prove that it’s not coincidence. “You’re good. You’re really, really, good,” they tell you. And having climbed to the top of the food chain you stand stagnant, for the one man left to be conquered refuses to fight you, all because–

Because it’s tricky business, letting your pet lion eat human meat. One day you might see in their eyes that they know what you’re made of too, all while you’ve been starving that animal for so long. 

You’ve been wearing your gi looser, hair freer. Leaving the gym shower unlocked on the days when it’s just you and Sukuna, others having finished practising hours ago. Forgetting bras to change into, sometimes forgetting the shirts instead. Sukuna was but a man, a deeply lionised one. There were still cameras outside the gym, waiting, watching. Did they know that this great legend kept a young girl practising deep into the night all alone? Did they know that she grew up counting all the cobwebs alone in her house? Did they know that Ryomen Sukuna paces in his bedroom, unsure whose meat it is that the other consumes? 

Sukuna knows what the leftmost sliver of your back looks like through your shower door just slightly ajar, shampoo and soap slipping over your skin. He can name all the muscles that pop up as you wash – trapezius, deltoids, latissimus dorsi, obliques, glutes, hamstrings, and calves. He sees them in his sleep. 

He imagines them on the back of the little partygirl currently grinding on his cock, too whisky-drunk to reason why he picked one with your hairstyle. She leaves the next morning with an iron-clad NDA and so many humiliating memories of the night and a good amount of hush money. 

Just as she stumbles out his front door, adjusting the torn straps of her bandage dress, you walk in before the door locks closed. For a second you think that you’ve successfully penetrated his villa, before realising that Sukuna’s looking down at you from the mezzanine. Massive, bare-chested, sticky. If you were closer, you’d smell the sex and blood on him. 

“Jumped the wall?” He asks, words slurring a little. Overdrank. 

“Yeah.” You reply. “Sorry.” 

“Clearly my fault, I should have predicted deranged athletic stalkers.” 

“No, coach.” You shake your head, suddenly realising that you kinda did walk into a private scene. “I promise I won’t tell the paps about this.”

“This?” 

“That lady who just walked out. I mean, what lady? I didn’t see anything–”  

His footsteps are just as loud as they always are as he walks down the stairs to you. Thud-thud-thud. Your heart echoes each beat. “Don’t waste my time.” He yawns, eyes hawk-sharp on you. “What do you want?”

On the other side of the city, Yuuji and his grandfather share brunch sandwiches. He’s not sure how to approach the topic, since Megumi explained just enough to concern him. “Grandpa, my friend, the one I introduced you to, I think I wanted to ask about this. Does… does Sukuna treat her as more than a student?” 

And his grandfather, the one person who told him to always look out for the good of others, told him to stay out of it completely. “When nutcases like them go out to dance, we stay in and close our eyes.”

a/n: hi folks daddy's back

ask the characters anything! (remember to name who you're asking tho!)

[d-dixonimagines]

Daryl Tends To A Drunk Reader

I DON'T KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT IT BUT I'M NOT GOING TO THINK ABOUT IT ANYMORE! I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY!

Weekly dinners with Eric and Aaron accidentally became a bit of a tradition.  It started with you and Daryl being invited over as a welcoming when you were new to Alexandria, then it would be for Aaron and Daryl to "talk business" to sort out plans for the bigger supply runs while you and Eric chatted away; and gradually it became a weekly thing for the four of you to just unwind and catch up and talk about everything but work and walkers and whatever threat was the current focus.  It was a way for you all to get a bit of normalcy and it was beautiful. 

At some point, you and Eric made it part of the tradition to have a glass or three of wine that added to the making of good memories. 

While Daryl and Aaron were still emersed in a conversation at the dinner table, you and Eric had moved to the couch, four glasses in and giggling away about who knows what. "Do you ever just watch people?" "In what way?" Eric questioned mildly concerned before laughing. "If we're talking like standing in bushes and or behind light poles all secretively, then no…" "No, I don't mean like that - oh shit, my wine is trying to escape," you quickly straightened up your glass before it completely tipped, a couple drops of your drink landing on your lap. Eric just laughed harder, questioning if he should grab a towel or something in case an accidental mess was made. 

"Who do you think I am? A weirdo?" You raised the question out of nowhere, continuing straight back into what you were talking about. "I mean like sitting on a bench or a step or something and just watching people go about their day. Watching how they're interacting with people or just watching how they do things. I don't know, sometimes it's fascinating." You shrugged slightly before finishing off your wine. "Like one time I was watching this guy talking to this girl and you could tell that he really liked her because he was obviously nervous and doing a lot of the talking, and I really don't know what compelled him to do it, but they were walking by this tree and he picked off one of the leaves and sniffed it and then extended it out like he was offering her a turn to sniff it, she didn't, but…" you both laughed as you took a pause, "you miss things like that when you're not paying attention, you know?" 

"Whose smellin' what?" You heard Daryl's voice from behind you, causing you and Eric to laugh more. "Some guy who maybe was trying to impress someone?" Eric replied with a questioning tone, unsure how to process the information he just heard.  "I've definitely have done a little people watching here and there, but I can't say I've ever witnessed anything strange like that." "Eh, see? You should do it more often, maybe you'll see something good." 

Daryl walked around the furniture you were sitting on and stood in front of you, reaching for the empty wine glass to set it on the table. "Should I start smelling leaves and reporting if they have a good scent or not?" You asked Daryl, who was now extending his hand forward to take yours to help you up. "Nah, that's alright. We can smell 'em just fine without getting up close and personal with them," he replied with an amused expression on his face. "We should get goin', though." You gave a soft pout as you grabbed his hand, preparing to stand up.  "This is always my least favorite part of the evening. The time goes by too fast."  

Eric stood up after you and set his empty glass beside yours. "It's not like we won't see each other tomorrow." You both smiled at each other and gave your goodbye hugs before walking out into the cool night air. The walk back to your house wasn't that far, but with all of the distractions and Daryl darting in nearly every direction to try and keep you from stumbling into a bush or off the curb, it took you both a bit of extra time before finally making it home.  

"I'm so tired but wide awake at the same time and I don't understand how that's even a thing." You opened the door and Daryl shut it behind him. "I don't think you'll have any issues fallin' asleep once your head touches your pillow." His hands gripped your sides as he maneuvered you up the stairs and leading you to your room.  The sight of your bed caused you to let out a content sight and you plopped right down. "Why is everything so much more comfortable after you've had a lot to drink? It feels like a cloud." With your eyes closed and your arms sprawled out across the bed and your feet still touching the floor, you thought you'd have no problem just falling asleep like that, and if it wasn't for Daryl being there, it's how you probably would have found yourself the next morning. 

"I dunno, babe. Would clouds really be all that comfortable, though? You'd fall right through," you focused on his voice as you felt him remove your shoes, hearing them land somewhere close by. You pulled yourself up so that you could look at him now, your eyelids heavy with sleep and intoxication. "They'd feel like you're sleeping on cotton candy," you smiled softly, letting your fingers play with the ends of his hair. He stayed kneeled down in front of you, his arms draping lightly around your lower back. "You think so?" He asked softly, his lips curled up at the ends.  "I know so." You leaned in and lightly kissed the end of his nose.  "I have to tell you a secret.." you whispered, your fingers now running deeper through his hair. "What's that?" He whispered back in response. Your gaze lingered on his for a long moment as you both sat there in silence, you could feel your heartbeat racing and you weren't sure if that was because of the alcohol or because looking at Daryl always made you feel a good type of way. "I can't feel my lips.." you whispered. "Or my cheeks.. or my whole face."  

It took only a few seconds for the words to process and all he could do was let out a chuckle. "That just means it's time for bed," he leaned forward and kissed your lips before standing up and helping you get changed, and after he quickly got himself ready for bed, he threw the covers down and climbed in, pulling you close to him. "Your whiskers are tickling me!" You laughed and scrunched your shoulder up as Daryl buried his face deeper into the crook of your neck. "Are they?" He asked in a jokingly nonchalant way. "I've very sorry," he just nestled in more, causing you to laugh, chills rolling down your back as his beard scratched softly against your skin. 

You readjusted yourself so that you were now facing him, your face nestling into the crook of his neck now.  "Mmm, much better. You're so warm and comfy." You smiled contently, feeling the sleep taking over more and more. "We should collect some leaves tomorrow… see how they smell.." you mumbled. Daryl let out an amused chuckle. "Shut'up, weirdo, go to sleep." You laughed as he kissed the top of your head, and within seconds you were out in a deep slumber. 

[sleepdeprivedfrfr]

grief brings people together. widower!toji x widow!reader

how was he supposed to do it? be a father? all alone. he didn’t know how to be gentle, not anymore at least. all he felt was pain and anger.  

all the time. 

he couldn’t look at his son and not see her. 

nights were the worst. megumi wouldn’t sleep unless he was in his fathers hold, but those moments of silence never lasted long. toji would watch as his son cried out, like he knew his mama was gone, like he felt the emptiness of a nurturing mother.

it fucking crushed toji.

every time he stared back into his son's eyes as he wailed all throughout the night, all he could see was her eyes. all teary eyed like she would be when watching a sad movie that toji hadn’t even paid attention to, he would just stare at her soft features as she cried over some ridiculous love confession that played on the screen. or when his son would blink, his ridiculously long lashes batting like hers always did when she stared up at him, eyes full of something foreign to the brute. 

she looked up at him like he was the only thing to ever exist.

toji could feel his heart shattering every time he stared back into his son's eyes, it was like a constant reminder that she was gone, he admired his son through angry tears. no matter how much of himself he lost, he would never let anything happen to his son, megumi was all he had. 

but fuck it was so hard.

it was so hard to keep going. to act like everything was okay when it fucking wasn’t, when a piece of him was always missing. how was he supposed to keep fighting all alone? no one to turn to, no shoulder to cry on, no one to listen. 

he was so alone for so long. 

until he met you. 

toji doesn’t even remember how he got to the park, but he remembers watching megumi’s little legs waddling around the grass, and running into another little boy his age. 

a clumsy little shit with pink hair practically ramming his son into the grass, toji reacted faster than the speed of sound, despite the fact he’d only slept four hours in the last three days. 

“Oi lady watch yer fuckin’ kid!” toji snarled while running up to his son who was now wailing in the grass. 

but then he saw it. the bags under your eyes, face all puffy, lips swollen like you were having an allergic reaction. it was a look he knew all to well. 

you looked fucking exhausted. 

and you were. nothing ever felt real anymore. not without him. you weren’t living anymore. just… 

existing. not for yourself, but for the two little angels he left behind.

it was selfish to think, you knew that. i mean yeah you loved his children like they were your own, but everytime you saw yuji’s pink hair, you were reminded of how his hair looked in your lap, on a lazy sunday morning while you cuddled on the couch. or the way cho smiled up at you with eyes closed slightly, in the same way his father used too whenever he played with his sons on the floor. 

they were still so young, you didn’t think they understood what really happened, but it still pained you every time yuji would repeat ‘dada’, or how cho’s little voice would cry out to you from your lap every night, asking ‘why isn’t daddy home?’. 

you often cried with him, holding him tight, making sure he knew he wasn’t alone. you found yourself asking the same question, but you knew the answer. his father was gone from this world. forever. 

no matter how much time had passed, it still hurt like hell. knowing that you had to go out into a world that felt empty all the time. 

until you met him.

toji watched as you ran to the pink haired boy who wasn't fazed in the slightest after the mini collision, while another older boy with dark pig tails trailed after you. 

“oh my— yu! im so sorry!” you sniffled out, before looking up at the tall man who looked just as wrecked as you did. 

toji didn’t mean to yell, really. he was just so worn out. 

you watched the tall raven haired man wipe a hand down his face in a frustrated manner, “fuck— ‘m sorry. i didn’t mean t’yell at ya.” 

you snapped out of your daze and wiped the tears from your eyes, “oh! n-no it’s okay! it’s not your fault, it’s just been a long week.” 

the bulky man gave you a somewhat sympathetic look, before huffing out a forced chuckle at the scene that played out on the grass. 

the pink haired boy hugged megumi, while the slightly older boy with pigtails wiped the tears from megumis face and consoled him in such a sweet manner. 

“cute kids. they yours?” 

you couldn’t help smile at the adorable scene before turning back to the towering man, “uh yeah— well they’re my step sons technically—but yeah, they’re mine. that one yours?” 

toji almost caught himself smiling at your awkwardness, “yeah. kids driving me crazy, can’t imagine how yer handlin’ two.” 

you let out an airy laugh, “i dunno how i’m talking to you right now, i might be sleep walking.” 

the man snorted and shook his head, “me too. ‘m fushiguro by the way, could i get yer name? if ya don’t mind me askin’ that is.” 

you looked away from the three boys who were now completely captivated by a worm in the dirt, 

“itadori.” 

“nice to meet ya, itadori.” 

“likewise, fushiguro.”

a/n: idk if this even makes sense, idk lmk what y'all think its 2 am and im too tired to determine if I like this or not lmao. not proofread! (bc when is it ever tbh)

[saturns-peachy-honeymoon]

honeybeecurtis!reader x two-bit mathews

summary: honeybeecurtis!reader & two-bit mathews love story

content: honeybeecurtis!reader x two-bit. slightly chaotic and angsty. mentions of tim shepard x reader (fwb relationship). mentions of sex. 

warning: mentions of sex. some nsfw content. slight angst. mentions of panic attacks and mental health issues.

word count: 1525

a/n: honeybeecurtis! is so fiona gallagher coded i can't even

You flirt and banter NON-STOP - dirty jokes, innuendos, over the top compliments, bickering that borders on foreplay, the whole thing 

Two-Bit smirked as he leaned forward on the kitchen table, “I’ve been good all day. You gonna reward me later or what?”

You responded without missing a beat, "You want a medal or my mouth?" A mischievous smirk on your lips as you placed a beer in front of him. 

“Jesus Christ, I’m right here!” Ponyboy yelped out, choking on his Pepsi.

Always been your number one party buddy 

He walks you home if you get to drunk to make it back yourself 

Two-Bit has this habit of showing up exactly when you need him (usually  bringing along a six-pack or a bottle of whiskey) 

You share cigarettes and beers like it’s nothing 

You pass out at each other’s houses all the time 

Very comfortable with one another - even though you’re not a big fan of physical affection, you’ll rest your legs on his lap during movie nights or while chit-chatting on the couch 

You pull on his belt loops sometimes to get his attention 

You call him Mathews 

You are so good with his little sister - sometimes, you and Two-Bit will take her, Ponyboy, and Johnny out for dinner 

You can read each other pretty well - you know when he’s deflecting with humor, and he knows when you’re burying pain with sarcasm 

He sees how much you do and does what he can to lift some weight off your shoulders- he’ll drive Pony to and from school, take him to the movies if you don’t have time, help cook dinner, cover you with a blaket when you pass out on the couch between shifts, anything he can to lend a hand

Your relationship makes him more mature and responsible 

Two-Bit understands the duality you exist in - wild and free alone & a hardworking parentified sister at home

He reassures you that just because you’re doing less of what you love, it doesn’t mean that you’re not you anymore 

Two-Bit knows he’s gone for you: your fire, strength, sarcasm, and the way you bounce off of his insanity without blinking. You’re the most beautiful mess he’s ever seen. He knows you’re not ready for anything serious, and he’s willing to wait as long as you need

He never pushes you, never crosses any lines, and really does think of your friendship as sacred (even if he does want more)  

Two-Bit’ll keep you company at the DX or at the bar while you’re working - you insist that he doesnt have to but you look forward to it - it makes work feel less like work

He can tell when you’re on edge or close to burning out 

When you’re upset or in panic mode, he doesn’t try to fix it, he doesn’t try to calm you down, he’ll just sit beside you. He’ll make dumb jokes or sit in complete silence with you - whatever you need. Regardless he’ll always light a cigarette and offer it to you

He is the absolute best at supporting you when you have panic attacks and is one of the only people who knows you get them

You let him see more of you than most people - your scared, broken, tired bits of yourself

So let’s address the elephant in the room - you’re sleeping with Tim Shepard

But he has never once judged the whole fwb situation. Whenever one of the guys would get pissy about it, Two-Bit would shrug and say, “Shep’s a dumbass, but at least he’s got good taste.”

And yeah, he doesn’t love it, but he’s your best friend, what the hell is he going to do about it? 

Steve wiped the oil from his hands with an unreadable expression, “You really gonna let her keep blowing off steam with assholes?”

“Ain’t my place, man. She ain’t mine.” But, God, does he wish you were.

Of course, he gets jealous at times - especially when Tim walks in with that stupid cocky look of his - but Two-Bit never lets it show 

You start realizing you may have feelings when you realize he’s become your safe person over the years, and one of the only people who has never made you feel like a fuck-up or judged you for falling apart at the seams

You hate it so fucking much. Feelings? Eugh. You don’t do the mushy stuff, and you don’t have time for it

You try to drown the feelings in liquor, adrenaline, and Tim’s hands—but none of it works 

You start to notice there’s a problem when you start hooking up with Tim less, opting to blow off steam by drinking on the porch and shooting the breeze with Two-Bit rather than fucking out your feelings 

You really  know you’re a goner when you see him with Ponyboy and see how much he looks out for your baby brother 

He feels the shift, but he lets you take the lead 

One night, when you’re talking about stress and family, you propose hooking up, no strings, just friends helping each other release some stress, and he doesn’t bite - not because he’s not interested, but because if he ever sleeps with you, it’s going to mean something 

You pretend not to care. Ignore the way that the whole thing pulled at something in your chest 

When you finally do confess your actual feelings, it’s in a panicked, self-detrimental way that is so unique to you. He just smiles and whispers a teasing “Took ya long enough,” before you crash your lips into his 

The first time you kiss, you kiss him with every bit of passion and fire that you have, and he slows it down, whispering against your mouth that you have all the time in the world

Ponyboy is not remotely surprised by you guys getting together. He’s been watching your relationship develop for what feels like forever 

He really trusts Two-Bit with you and thinks it’s a perfect match (you guys are almost pseudo parents at this point) 

Sodapop is way too happy and teases you both constantly 

Darry cannot get over how at peace you are with Two-Bit, but he doesn’t question it 

He’s also relieved that this means you’re done hooking up with Tim 

The amount of lectures you get from various members of the gang about not breaking his heart and being serious about the relationship is astounding (the most come from Darry and Steve) 

Steve is so relieved, he’s been in the trenches for years trying to get Two-Bit to make a move, and now that you’re together, he can finally be at peace (that is, until you two start hooking up in the DX’s breakroom and he’s left to cover, annoyed and slightly traumitized ) 

Johnny is supportive (as expected) and sees how much you two complement each other

Dally teases you nonstop for settling down and going soft 

If Dally notices you wanting to disappear, he pulls you back enough to talk to Two-Bit before doing anything stupid

You traumitize the gang even more now with your nonstop flirting cause now they know you’re acting on it 

You start calling him Keith more (especially in soft or vulnerable moments) 

He’s so patient with you 

You definitely try to push him away a few times, but he never waivers (he does, however, call you out almost immediately when he recognizes you doing it) 

When you argue, he never raises his voice at you 

Two-Bit lets you ease yourself into being affectionate with him. You’ll never become an over-the-top PDA person, but you start resting your head on his shoulder more, let him wrap his arm around your waist in public, hook your pinky in his belt loop instead of holding hands, his fingers trace shapes on your legs when they’re on his lap, sometimes you’ll even play with the hair on the back of his neck while he drives or you’re sitting on the couch together

If you’re tipsy it’s a whole ‘nother story - you’ll kiss him hungry, pepper kisses on his neck, hang off of his side. Kissing anywhere you can til you can get him alone 

You used to hot and wild, getting your clothes tugged at the moment the door is closed. And it’s not that Two-Bit doesn’t want you, he does, a lot. But that’s not all he wants. He wants every bit of you, and he’s gonna take his time

When you finally do sleep together, it’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced because no one in your life has taken the time to really take care of you, worship you, in the way that he does

Two-Bit is your number one cheerleader 

There comes a point in the relationship where he’s practically living with you (not that anyone minds) 

Lowkey black cat gf / golden retriever bf vibes 

He calms you down before you get into fights you really don’t need to be in 

You complement each other well. You’re terrible at romantic stuff. He is way too good at it. He calls you sugar and teases you about settling down. You call him an idiot and kiss him stupid

a/n: they are actually so important to me. i love a good black cat/golden retriever romance with some avoidant attachment styles mixed in, what can I say?

... with that said, scenes to come!

❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎

also, thank you for the requests, lovies!