#the way he's staring is so awkward i love it

[kashverse]

𝒴our first encounter with the 呪術廻戦 men 

⪩⪨ ✶ implied f!reader but can be read otherwise (use of "pretty" in choso's version), strangers to lovers, fluff, featuring ♡ canon! gojo, canon! geto, single dad! toji, modern au! choso, canon! sukuna in a modern au, corporate! nanami ✿ ⪩⪨ tried a new formatting style..! ib my dear @norikuna (∩˃o˂∩)♡

gojo doesn’t see you coming. not because he’s oblivious—though, sure, that’s part of it—but because he’s too busy making himself miserable, listening to some poor bastard on the phone cry about their ex. it’s barely noon, the sun’s out, people are living their lives, and this guy’s talking about how he let “the one” slip through his fingers. “bro, just get another one,” gojo had said, dead-eyed, waiting for the crosswalk light to change. the response was more crying. he sighed, hanging up.

and then he smacked straight into you.

not a polite bump, not even a nudge—full-on body collision, your forehead meeting his chin with a sharp crack. the impact was enough to send you both stumbling, but while gojo’s built like a brick wall, you had all the misfortune of being knocked back a few steps. “ow—what the fuck?!” your voice came first, and then, through the dizzying pain, you saw him. tall, white-haired, stupidly good-looking in an insufferable way, dressed like he was on some model’s off-day. sunglasses slid down the bridge of his nose, and even through the slight daze, you could see the sharp glint of his blue eyes peering down at you.

“ah, my bad—”

“your bad?” your voice rose, disbelieving. the pain hadn’t even settled yet, but your temper had. “you nearly took my head off!”

gojo blinked. “well, technically, if i took your head off, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” he pointed out. “unless you’re a talking head, which would be—"

“are you serious?” you cut him off, hands flying up in exasperation. “you’re just standing in the middle of the damn sidewalk—”

“crosswalk,” he corrected.

“—like a fucking lamppost,” you barreled on, ignoring him. “and then you hit me. no, actually, you collided with me like a fucking train, and now you’re just standing there?”

you looked ready to kill him. gojo thought you looked radiant. people don’t really yell at him. they get nervous, flustered, awkward. maybe they complain a little, but they don’t yell. not like this—not with this kind of raw, unfiltered rage that was directed solely at him.

and he was loving it.

“ohhh, you’re mad mad,” he said, grinning.

“no shit?” you spat, rubbing your forehead. “you’re huge! why do you walk like you don’t know how to control your own size?”

“i’m huge? that’s a compliment,” he mused. “also, you ran into me.”

“i did not—"

“you did, but it’s okay,” he waved off. “i forgive you.”

your mouth dropped open. your jaw clenched so hard you swore you heard it click. “i don’t need your forgiveness,” you snapped. “i need you to watch where the hell you’re going!” gojo just smiled. “i can do that,” he said. “but only if you tell me your name first.”

you squinted at him. “why?”

“so i know what to say in my apology,” he said smoothly. “y’know, something heartfelt, real personal. ‘i’m so sorry, dear stranger, for running into you with my big, strong, muscular body—’”

your scowl deepened. “forget it,” you turned to leave, shaking your head.

gojo grabbed your wrist. lightly, like he was afraid you’d shake him off (which you probably would). “wait,” he said, less teasing this time, more curious.

you stopped, staring at him warily. “what?”

he grinned. “you’re fun.”

you yanked your arm out of his grip. “you’re annoying.”

but you weren’t yelling anymore. and maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.

toji doesn't believe in love—at least, not in the way people like to romanticize it. to him, love has always been transactional. people want things: security, pleasure, a warm body to cling to at night. he provides, they take. simple.

commitment? fuck no. he’s been there, done that, and all it got him was a headache and a kid who looks at him like he’s a walking disappointment. not that he blames megumi—he knows exactly the kind of man he is. relationships, from what he's seen, are just another job. another obligation. more shit to deal with when he's already stretched thin making sure megumi doesn't starve or turn into a little menace. and he's already got enough on his plate. 

raising megumi is work. the kid is sharp, stubborn, and way too perceptive for his own good. keeping up with him is exhausting. fulfilling someone else’s expectations on top of that? hell no.

people ask if he’s lonely. he laughs. lonely? he’s got freedom. no nagging, no obligations, no answering to anyone but himself and, on the worst days, a grumpy eight-year-old who somehow thinks he’s smarter than him. love, in his experience, is just a distraction. and toji fushiguro doesn’t do distractions.

and toji swears he only looked away for a second.

he was just checking the damn price tag on some overpriced brand of instant noodles, and when he looked back, megumi was gone. poof. like a magic trick, except it wasn’t a trick, and the rising panic in his chest was very, very real. “shit,” he muttered, scanning the aisles. nothing. just a bunch of old ladies and college kids looking for cheap meals. no messy black hair, no tiny scowl. he ran a hand through his hair, trying to keep calm. he didn’t want to make a scene. people lost their kids all the time, right? it wasn’t a big deal. he just had to—

and then he saw him.

megumi was at the end of the next aisle, small hands clenched at his sides, his mouth pressed in a thin, stubborn line, like he wasn’t scared, even though he definitely was. and right next to him, crouched down to his level, was you. “you’re really good at this,” you said. megumi blinked up at you. “huh?”

“the whole ‘not panicking’ thing,” you smiled at him. “most kids freak out when they lose their parents. you’re staying calm. that’s cool.” megumi looked away, like he wasn’t sure if that was actually a compliment or not. “i don’t wanna cause trouble,” he muttered.

“aw, but that’s what parents are for,” you teased. “causing them trouble.” megumi almost smiled. almost. toji, still frozen in place, narrowed his eyes. who the hell were you?

“c’mon, let’s go find your dad,” you said, standing up and holding out a hand. megumi didn’t take it, but he followed you anyway, his short legs working hard to keep up with your pace. and toji? well. he wasn’t sure why, but instead of stepping forward, he let you find him.

he let you do the whole thing, watching as you walked with megumi, asking him questions—where he last saw his dad, what his name was, what he looked like.

“he’s really tall,” megumi said. you hummed. “tall, huh? that helps.”

“and he’s got a scar on his mouth,” he added.

“even better. anyone who looks scary is easier to spot.”

megumi frowned a little. “he’s not scary.” you smiled, ruffling his hair. “i bet he isn’t.”

toji snorted under his breath.

by the time you turned the corner and finally spotted him, megumi exhaled in relief. toji pretended not to notice how fast he ran up to him, grabbing the fabric of his shirt like he wasn’t just saying how calm he was. you, on the other hand, stopped a few steps away, hands on your hips. “you must be the scary, not-scary dad,” you said.

toji raised an eyebrow. “and you’re just a random saint, huh?” you shrugged. “not a saint. just someone who doesn’t like seeing kids upset.”

he looked at you, really looked at you. you didn’t seem put out by any of this, like helping some stranger’s kid wasn’t an inconvenience, but just another part of your day. like it was normal. toji let out a breath, then tilted his head down at megumi. “you good, kid?”

megumi nodded, though he still wasn’t letting go of toji’s shirt. toji sighed, glancing back at you. “guess i owe you, huh?”

you waved him off. “don’t worry about it. just keep an eye on him next time.”

toji huffed a laugh. “easier said than done.”

you grinned, giving megumi one last look before turning to leave. and toji? well. maybe being responsible for two people wouldn’t be so bad after all.

nanami never thought much about being single. it wasn’t a matter of pride or principle—just reality. his job was time-consuming, his patience was thin, and the thought of entertaining someone else’s needs after a long workday felt exhausting. he wasn’t lonely, just… fine. indifferent.

until he got sick of his office food.

“this is inedible,” he said flatly, staring at the sad excuse of a meal on his plate. his colleague, barely looking up from his own tray, mumbled, “it’s fine.”

nanami’s eye twitched. it was not fine. rubbery chicken, dry rice, and a soup that tasted more like dishwater than anything edible. this was not a meal—it was a punishment.

so, he made a change.

he found a small business that delivered homemade meals, something personal but convenient. it promised variety, quality ingredients, and, most importantly, flavor.

what he didn’t expect were the notes.

the first one came tucked under the neatly packed meal.

“hope today isn’t too exhausting! eat well!”

nanami stared at it for longer than he should have. then, at the food—real food. properly cooked, properly seasoned, steaming with warmth that no canteen meal could ever replicate. he didn’t think about it much. a kind gesture, that was all. but the notes kept coming.

“long meetings? i packed extra today.”

“rainy day! hope this brings some warmth.”

“rough week? your food will always be good at least.”

and then—

“your order is always so precise. you must be someone who likes routine.”

nanami paused mid-bite. he did like routine. he thrived on it. and yet, this—this unexpected kindness, these little messages—was beginning to throw him off in a way he couldn’t explain. weeks passed, meals came, and nanami found himself looking forward to them—not just for the food, but for the words that came with it. one afternoon, after another insufferable meeting, he opened his meal to find:

“do you ever take breaks? hope you’re not working too hard.”

he let out a breath, something between a sigh and a laugh. he was working too hard. but how did you—someone he’d never met—seem to know that better than the people around him? finally, curiosity got the better of him. he grabbed a pen and, for the first time, wrote back.

“who are you?”

the next day, his meal came with a note, just like always.

“just someone who wants you to eat well. but i wouldn’t mind knowing who you are too.”

and for the first time in a long time, nanami thought—maybe being single wasn’t so fine after all.

geto doesn’t believe in love. not in the way people romanticize it, anyway. he’s known desire—used it, wielded it like a tool, a means to an end. a well-timed smile, a hand grazing a wrist, a whispered promise—all of it was just another step in expanding his cause. people were easy to sway when you made them feel special. and being single? it wasn’t something he mourned. it was efficient. no attachments, no complications, no wasted energy. everything he did, every conversation, every encounter—it all served a purpose.

until you.

“you’ve been talking for a while,” you said, tilting your head at him. geto smiled. “am i boring you?”

“not at all. just wondering if you’re going to get to the point.”

he chuckled, swirling his drink. clever. impatient. interesting.

“what do you think my point is?”

you leaned back, thoughtful. “well, you’re charming, you have that practiced ease of someone who’s very used to getting what they want, and yet…” you narrowed your eyes. “you haven’t tried to get anything from me yet.”

his smile twitched. perceptive too. “maybe i’m just enjoying the conversation.”

“hmm.” you didn’t look convinced. “i doubt you talk to people without a reason.”

he laughed, shaking his head. “you wound me. am i not allowed to simply appreciate good company?”

you smirked. “do you?”

and that was the problem, wasn’t it? he did.

he was supposed to be recruiting you. that was why he approached you in the first place—he had assessed, observed, picked you out for your potential. another piece in his grander vision. but now? now, he was talking to you about books, about philosophy, about things that had nothing to do with his cause.

he liked your sharp tongue, your quick comebacks, the way you saw through people but humored them anyway. and he was enjoying this. more than he should.

“you’re thinking too hard,” you noted.

“am i?”

“yeah. for someone who flirts so easily, you seem oddly distracted.”

he chuckled, shaking his head. you had no idea. for the first time in a long time, geto suguru had forgotten his purpose. and strangely enough, he didn’t mind.

choso doesn’t really get love. it’s not that he doesn’t feel it—he does, deeply, messily, all-consuming in the way only someone who has lived too long without it can. it’s just that he doesn’t understand how it’s supposed to work. his friends talk about relationships like they’re puzzles, like you’re supposed to fit into someone else’s life piece by piece, no gaps, no edges sticking out. but choso? he keeps forcing the wrong pieces together. he’s had his heart broken by so many situationships, and he doesn’t even know what that word means. all he knows is that people like him enough to stay for a while, but not enough to stay forever. and when someone ghosts him? it’s over.

“why would they do that?” he asks yuuji, completely distraught. “i thought we were getting along.” yuuji winces. “yeah, but… sometimes people just disappear, man. it’s not your fault.”

“but why not just say they don’t like me?”

“because people suck.”

choso frowns. love is confusing. people are confusing. nothing makes sense.

until he meets you.

more specifically, until you send a pug flying in his direction. one second, he’s minding his own business, sipping a coffee, staring blankly at nothing. the next—

“watch out!”

and then—THUD.

a very round, very squishy pug collides with his chest, knocking the air out of him. he blinks. looks down. the pug is fine. choso, however, is shaken.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry,” you pant, running up to him, looking horrified. “he’s got the speed of a missile and the weight distribution of a sack of potatoes. are you okay?”

choso is still holding the pug. he has not processed a single thing except that you’re talking to him, and you’re really pretty. you snap your fingers in front of his face.

“hello? earth to guy who just got body slammed by my dog?”

he swallows. “i—i’m okay.”

you sigh in relief. “good. i don’t think my insurance covers ‘pug-related assaults.’”

he stares. then—

he laughs.

it’s an awkward, slightly delayed laugh, but it’s real. it bubbles out of him, because suddenly, everything is just… simple. you’re still talking, apologizing, trying to pry your dog from his grip, and he realizes—love doesn’t have to be this big, complicated thing. it can be a stranger, a runaway pug, and a stupidly perfect moment where he thinks, 'oh. this is it.'

sukuna has never cared for love. love is mortal, fleeting, an indulgence for the weak. he has lived for centuries without it, conquered, destroyed, thrived—all on his own. why bother with attachment? why waste time on something that promises nothing but vulnerability? he’s always been perfectly fine like this.

until the night he meets you at the bar.

he doesn’t even mean to notice you at first—just another human in a crowded room, laughing, talking, lighting up the space with an ease he’s never possessed. 

and then he hears you speak. your voice is smooth, effortless, like you’re meant to be heard. every sentence flows into the next, words never fumbling, never uncertain. you make people laugh, pull them in, keep them hanging on to every syllable. sukuna watches, listens, enthralled, before someone leans in and calls you by name—your full name. followed by—

“aren’t you that talk show host?”

and it clicks. you are. he’s seen your face before, flickering on a television screen, a passing glimpse at a life so far removed from his own.

and now he’s irritated. because you talk so easily with everyone but him. and that won’t do.

so he tries. for the first time in centuries, he tries to talk to someone—like a normal person, like it’s something he’s done before, like it’s as easy as you make it look.

but it’s not. it’s a disaster.

he waits until the crowd around you has thinned, takes the seat next to you, and—

“so.” he clears his throat. “you talk to people for a living.”

you turn, blinking, mildly amused. “i do.”

he nods, confident. good start. then nothing. his mind goes blank. shit.

you raise a brow, waiting. sukuna glares at his drink like it’s betrayed him. “how do you do it?”

you tilt your head. “do what?” he gestures vaguely. “talk. keep people engaged.”

you blink. “are you asking me how to hold a conversation?”

his jaw tenses. “no.”

you laugh. he scowls.

he tries again. “what makes a good interview?”

“oh, that’s easy,” you hum. “you have to be genuinely interested in the other person.”

he deadpans.

you smirk. “which means you have to actually listen to what they’re saying.”

“i listen,” he grumbles.

“really?” you lean in. “then what were we just talking about?”

silence. your smirk widens. “you weren’t listening.”

he groans, dragging a hand down his face. this is hell.

but he keeps trying. keeps failing, keeps making an idiot of himself, keeps suffering through every one of your knowing smiles—because for the first time in his miserable, ancient existence, he actually wants to learn.

he wants to talk to you.

and maybe, just maybe, he wants you to talk to him, too.

[blairxbear]

When they realise they are in love with you.

MHA Class 1A Head cannons

Izuku Midoriya

• He doesn’t realize it at first—it hits him like a train when someone else points it out.

• You’re patching up his wounds after a battle, scolding him like usual, and he just stares at you.

• “They care about me so much… I don’t ever want to lose them.”

• That’s when it clicks—his face turns beet red, and he literally short-circuits trying to process it.

• He starts writing about you in his notebooks, not just as a hero, but as his hero.

• Tries to confess a dozen times but ends up stammering and running away.

Katsuki Bakugo

• He freaking hates it when he realizes he’s in love.

• He notices he gets jealous when you talk to others too casually.

• He starts training even harder because he wants to be stronger for you.

• The moment it fully hits him? You defend him from someone bad-mouthing him, and his chest tightens.

• “Shit… I don’t just like them. I love them.”

• He won’t say it out loud but becomes insanely protective overnight.

• If someone flirts with you, he glares daggers and pulls you closer.

• His confession is awkward but genuine—probably blurts out “I love you, okay?! Now deal with it!”

Shoto Todoroki

• Love isn’t something he understands right away—it’s foreign but comforting.

• He notices he trusts you more than anyone else and actually wants to be around you.

• One day, you brush a strand of hair from his face, and his heart skips a beat.

• “Why does my chest feel warm? Is this…?”

• He spends weeks thinking about what this feeling means.

• His father’s influence made him fear attachment, but with you, he feels safe.

• He realizes he loves you when he catches himself smiling for no reason just because you exist.

• When he confesses, it’s simple but deeply meaningful—“I think I love you. No, I know I do.”

Eijiro Kirishima

• He’s the type to fall fast and hard, but he won’t admit it until it hits him like an explosion.

• You do something small but meaningful, like fixing his hair or remembering his favorite drink, and suddenly, he’s melting.

• His brain just goes: “Oh no. Oh NO. I LOVE THEM.”

• The moment he realizes it, he becomes the most obvious person alive—grinning like an idiot, blushing when you compliment him.

• Denki figures it out first and teases him relentlessly.

• He confesses spontaneously—probably during training or when you’re just hanging out.

• “Hey… I, uh, love you. Like, really love you.”

Denki Kaminari

• He thinks he’s just crushing on you, but one night, you laugh at one of his dumb jokes, and his heart flips.

• “Wait… why do I want to make them laugh forever?”

• He starts noticing the little things—the way your eyes sparkle, the way you say his name.

• Suddenly, every love song reminds him of you.

• He realizes he loves you when you comfort him after a bad day, holding his hand without judgment.

• He panics—freaks out and tells Sero before he even tells you.

• Ends up blurting it out without thinking—probably during a sparring session.

• “Oh, shit—did I just say that out loud? …Well, I meant it.”

Henta Sero

• Realizes it slowly but surely—love creeps up on him like his tape until it’s wrapped around his heart.

• It happens during a casual hangout, maybe when you’re laughing at one of his dumb jokes.

• “Damn, I’d do anything to hear that laugh every day.”

• His friends notice before he does because he starts bringing you up in every conversation.

• “Oh, Y/N likes that movie too!” “Y/N would totally win this game.”

• When he realizes, he’s cool about it but lowkey dying inside.

• He confesses casually but sweetly, probably while sharing a snack.

• “So… I’m kinda in love with you. Thought you should know.”

Fumikage Tokoyami

• He doesn’t see it as love at first—he calls it “a deep admiration”.

• Dark Shadow calls him out first: “Dude, you’re OBSESSED.”

• He realizes he loves you when he misses you more than he should.

• The thought of you being hurt makes his blood run cold—he becomes fiercely protective.

• He confesses in a poetic and dramatic way—probably quotes some gothic literature.

• “My heart, once shrouded in darkness, now finds solace in you.”

• He’s nervous about whether you’ll accept him, but when you do, he’s deeply devoted.

Tenya Iida

• Love is logical to him, so he doesn’t understand why his brain short-circuits around you.

• Realizes it when he starts worrying about you more than necessary.

• “Are they drinking enough water? Did they eat today? Should I check on them?”

• The real moment? You tell him to relax, placing a hand on his arm, and suddenly, his heart is racing.

• He denies it at first—tries to rationalize it.

• But one day, you cheer for him in a match, and it clicks—he wants you by his side forever.

• His confession is formal but flustered—“I have come to the realization that I love you. I hope you will accept my feelings.”

Mashirao Ojiro

• He falls first but doesn’t say anything—he’s the quiet type about his feelings.

• The moment he realizes? Sparring with you, when you pin him down and smirk.

• “Oh, I’m completely in love with them.”

• He acts normal but becomes a little more protective, a little more soft-spoken around you.

• His tail wags when you’re near, and he hates that everyone notices.

• He confesses simply but sincerely—probably under the stars or after training.

• “I love you. I don’t need anything back, I just wanted you to know.”

Mezo Shoji

• Realizes it when he starts looking forward to your voice every day.

• He’s always been reserved, but you make him feel safe.

• The moment he knows? You tell him he’s beautiful, and he nearly chokes on air.

• “They… they actually see me.”

• His confession is quiet but meaningful—probably late at night when you’re alone.

• “You’re the only one who makes me feel like this. I think… no, I know I love you.”

Rikido Sato

• He realizes he’s in love while baking—he catches himself making extra portions just for you, even when you’re not around.

• One day, you sneak into the kitchen to help, and he watches you struggle with frosting a cupcake.

• Instead of laughing, he just smiles fondly and thinks, “I want to do this with them forever.”

• The moment it really clicks is when you try his baking and get so excited, giving him the biggest grin.

• His heart pounds, and suddenly, the sweetest thing in the room isn’t the cake.

• Becomes super flustered around you after that, fumbling with ingredients and spacing out.

• His confession is adorably shy, probably over a homemade dessert.

• “I, uh… I made this for you. And also, I think I love you.”

Koji Koda

• He falls slowly but deeply, and it takes a while for him to understand his feelings.

• He realizes it when he notices the way animals react to you—his rabbits love you, birds always fly near, and even skittish animals trust you.

• One day, you rescue a tiny injured bird, and as he watches you care for it so gently, his heart swells.

• “They’re so kind… I never want to leave their side.”

• The next time you smile at him, his whole face turns red, and he gets so nervous he forgets how to talk.

• Starts getting extra shy around you, but his actions speak louder—always carrying things for you, making sure you’re safe, sitting near you quietly.

• His confession is soft but heartfelt, maybe while watching the sunset with you.

• “I… I think I love you. You make my world so much brighter.”

[daryltwdixon]

Could you do bicep choking 🌚🙈

Daryl Dixon x Reader Grip

Summary: You let something slip—just a thought, just a passing comment—but Daryl hasn’t been able to shake it since. A week later, the tension between you reaches a breaking point.  tags: smut MDNI 18+, awkward pining, pinv, breast play, praise kink. awkward daryl & fmc, bicep choking obvi a/n: hello my love! thank you so much for this request and for your patience. in a second ask, anon did specify that they meant Daryl bicep choking. fair warning, I did not reread this a ton / proofread much. please lmk of any mistakes/errors!

The sun hangs low over the trees, heat pressing in heavy as you weave through the abandoned gas station, boots crunching softly over broken glass. Daryl moves a few steps ahead, bow slung across his back, knife in hand, moving with that effortless quiet of his. Always aware. Always in control.

And his arms.

You tell yourself you’re just paying attention—watching his movements like he watches everything else around him, staying alert. But your gaze keeps catching on the shift of muscle beneath his skin, the way his forearms flex when he grips his knife, the lazy tension in his biceps every time he lifts his arm to wipe sweat off his brow.

You shouldn’t be looking.

But it’s hard not to.

Especially when he plants a boot on a fallen shelf, using his weight to pry open a rusted metal door. The strain makes his muscles coil tight, veins standing out just enough to make you swallow hard.

"Well?" His voice snaps you out of it.

You blink. "What?"

Daryl jerks his chin toward the darkened storage room behind the door. "You goin’ in first or what?"

Shit. You’ve been staring.

"Yeah. Right. On it."

You step past him, ears burning. The space inside smells like old rot and motor oil, a few overturned boxes scattered around. You crouch, rifling through some supplies, heart still kicking too fast. It’s stupid. You’ve been on runs with him before. But something about today—the heat, the silence between you, the way he’s been rolling his shoulders like his muscles are wound too tight—has you hyper-aware of every damn thing he does.

A tin of peaches clatters loose from a shelf, and you reach for it at the same time he does. Your fingers barely brush his, but the contact is enough to send a jolt up your arm, like static crackling under your skin. He pauses. Just for a second. And when he draws back, you swear you catch the flicker of his gaze sweeping over you before he looks away.

You can feel your pulse in your throat.

You should let it go. Should get back to work. But the words are out before you can stop them.

"You ever—" You hesitate, pulse hammering, but you push through. "You ever, I don’t know, choke somebody with your arms before?"

Daryl stops. Slowly, he turns his head toward you, eyes narrowing just slightly. His bicep shifts as he adjusts his grip on the tin in his hand. "The hell kinda question is that?"

Shiiiit. You fucked up.

But instead of retreating, you force yourself to keep looking at him, tilting your chin up just a little. "I just mean, you’re strong." A shrug, like it’s no big deal. "Bet you could hold somebody down real easy."

Silence.

Then, Daryl exhales through his nose, shaking his head. But there’s something in his expression—something flickering behind his eyes, sharp and considering.

He tosses the tin into your hands and mutters, "You’re weird." and walks away.

═════════════════════════

Back at the prison, dinner is quiet, the usual hum of conversation mixed with the occasional scrape of utensils against tin plates. Most people are too tired to talk much, a day of tending to the gardens, cleaning out cell blocks and keeping walkers at bay making everyone look forward to the slower evenings. The air in the hall feels thick with the kind of exhaustion that settles deep, making everything feel slow, heavy.

You should be eating, but your stomach isn’t interested.

Because Daryl’s staring at you.

You haven’t looked at him, not really since you got back, but you can feel it. That steady weight from across the room, the burning of your ears, it makes it almost impossible to keep your stomach from doing somersaults. 

You should’ve kept your mouth shut on the run. Should’ve swallowed the words down, let them die in your throat. But no—you had to go and say it. Maybe it was your stupid hormones, the way he seemed to speak to some primal part of you that evolution put in your dna, maybe it was just some stupid impulse you couldn’t control. Either way, it’s too late now.

Not like it meant anything.

Except, if it didn’t, why was he still looking at you?

Your fingers tighten around your fork, but you don’t move to take another bite. Instead, you stare at the food on your plate, willing yourself to focus on anything other than the way your face feels too warm, the way your pulse is pressing a little harder than it should.

Maggie shifts in her seat, nudging Beth’s arm. “You good?”

You blink, glance up. Beth tilts her head, studying you, while Maggie smirks like she already knows something you don’t.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost today or somethin’,” Maggie says, “The run go that bad?”

“N-no,” you stammer, already feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, “It went fine. Got a lotta good stuff, actually.”

Maggie hums, unconvinced, and you watch as her eyes flicker behind you when she says, looking back at her plate, “Looks like someone’s got a little crush.”

The fork slips from your fingers, clattering against the plate, “I do not!”

But your reaction is what does it– it’s too sharp, too defensive. Beth startles a little, but Maggie just stares, slow realization spreading across her face as you lock eyes with her.

“I was only kiddin’." she says incredulously, "I meant the grouchy archer sittin' across the room, he keeps starin’ atcha.” she shakes her head, eyes lighting up. “But I see I’ve been mistaken.” She leans in. “You like Daryl?”

Your stomach drops.

Beth gasps, slapping Maggie’s arm. “Oh my god.”

Your face is on fire. “I don’t—”

Maggie grins. “Holy shit, you totally do.”

Beth’s trying to stifle a giggle. You shake your head fast, like that’ll help, like it’ll undo the last five seconds, but it only makes Maggie look even more certain. You can feel the walls closing in, feel their eyes on you, but worse—you can still feel his.

It’s too much. You push your plate away and mutter a quiet, “Not hungry anymore,” before standing and heading for the stairs, their laughter echoing behind you.

You don’t look back, because if you were to turn around and find those ocean blue eyes still on you, it would be your undoing.

═════════════════════════

The book in your hands is old, pages yellowed and brittle at the edges, the spine cracked so deep you have to be careful when you turn the pages. You’re not even sure what it’s about. Something about a man lost at sea. Maybe.

You’ve been staring at the same paragraph for the last ten minutes.

It’s not that it’s boring. It’s just that your mind refuses to focus.

You shift on your cot, tugging the blanket over your lap, trying again, but it’s useless. Your brain keeps circling back, over and over, to dinner. To Maggie’s knowing grin, Beth’s giggles, and—worst of all—Daryl.

You squeeze your eyes shut, exhaling sharply. You should’ve never said anything. Should’ve kept that stupid thought locked away where it belonged.

A quiet scuff of boots outside your cell makes your stomach jolt. There’s a pause, then a hesitant knock against the frame of your open door. Not loud or rushed, more like a question.

You look up.

Daryl stands in the doorway, hands shoved deep into his pockets, head slightly ducked. His shoulders are hunched, like he’s already thinking about leaving before he’s even fully stepped inside.

For a moment, neither of you say anything.

Then, he clears his throat. “Didn’t know ya read.”

You blink. It’s such a small thing to say, but something about the way he says it, like he’s searching for an easy way in, trying to settle into the conversation, makes your stomach tighten.

You glance at the book in your lap. “Yeah. Helps pass the time.”

Daryl nods, his eyes flicking around the small space of your cell, like he’s looking for something else to comment on, something to delay whatever it is he actually came here for. Between your haphazardly taped posters and handmade streamers, he doesn’t find anything, so instead, he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, exhales through his nose, then finally says:

“That thing you asked me.”

Your stomach drops. Of course. You should’ve known that was why he was here.

Your fingers tighten around the book, but you shake your head quickly. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry if I made you–”

“You think I can?” he asks, huffing.

You frown. “Think you can what?”

His jaw tenses, and when he speaks again, it’s lower. Almost cautious. “Forget it.”

Your breath catches slightly.

He shrugs, but it’s not casual. It’s forced. “Ain’t exactly somethin’ you just let go of.”

Your chest feels too tight all of a sudden. You can’t quite place the look on his face—something careful, something guarded, like he’s trying not to let on that it’s been sitting in the back of his head since you said it. What went through his mind when you asked him?

You shift on your cot, swallowing. “Daryl, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

His gaze flickers, just barely. “Yeah?”

You nod, but something in the way he’s looking at you makes your throat dry out. He still doesn’t seem convinced.

“You think that’s what I am?” His voice is quiet, but there’s an edge there, frustration starting to rise in his voice. “Some kinda animal? The kind of man who would kill someone with–” he shakes his head slightly, jaw clenching. “You think I’m like that?”

The realization hits you hard. Your stomach twists. “Daryl, no,” you say quickly, sitting up straighter. “That’s not—”

He shakes his head again, looking at the floor. “Wouldn’t blame ya.”

Your heart kicks against your ribs. “That’s not what I meant.”

Daryl exhales, folding his arms over his chest, still avoiding your eyes. “Then what did you mean?”

You hesitate. Because now he’s looking at you. Not guarded, not distant—just waiting.

Your fingers press into the book in your lap. This is your chance to brush it off. Laugh it away. But you can already feel the heat creeping up your face, and Daryl is still standing there, still waiting, and if you don’t say it now, he’s just going to keep thinking the worst.

You shift slightly. “I meant…” Your throat feels tight. “I meant in bed.”

Daryl blinks.

His whole body stiffens, like his brain short-circuited, like the words hit him sideways and he can’t quite recover. His face is already turning red, slow at first, then creeping all the way up to his ears.

Your own face burns, and you clear your throat, pushing through the embarrassment. “I meant—if you’d ever choked someone in bed. With your arms.”

A silence falls over the room. A long, unbearable silence.

Daryl shifts, dragging a hand over his mouth. He scratches the back of his head, looks anywhere but at you.

Finally, he exhales, mutters, “Jesus,” under his breath, then huffs out a quiet, almost nervous laugh.

Your stomach clenches. “I know. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

He shakes his head, rubbing a hand over his face. “That’s—uh. That’s what ya meant?”

You nod quickly, still burning. “Yeah.”

Daryl looks at you for a second. His fingers flex slightly at his sides, like he’s thinking too hard about where to put them.

Then, after a long pause—his voice comes out quieter.

“You’d want me to?”

Your stomach drops.

Your eyes snap to his. “What?”

Daryl shrugs, but it’s forced, like he’s trying to play off how red his face still is. “I dunno. Just—�� His mouth twitches slightly, like he can’t believe he’s even saying this. “Sounded like somethin’ you were real curious about.”

Your breath catches.

He’s not teasing, not quite—but there’s something in the way he says it, something light, something almost amused. Like he’s surprised at himself, surprised at you, but now that he’s said it, he’s not taking it back.

Your mouth opens, then closes again. Your hands are way too warm.

“I wouldn’t—” you swallow. “I wouldn’t not want you to.”

Daryl huffs out another soft laugh, shaking his head, glancing toward the hall like he’s wondering how the hell this conversation ended up here.

Then he looks back at you, eyes a little sharper now, lips twitching.

The heat in your face flares. You make a noise of protest, shoving at his arm lightly, but he just chuckles under his breath, rubbing at his jaw before he steps back toward the door.

“Get some sleep,” he says, still smirking.

He turns, but not before you catch it—just the slightest flicker of something in his expression.

Something knowing. Something interested.

And when he finally walks away, you can’t do anything except stare at the empty doorway and try to remember how to breathe.

═════════════════════════

The past week has been unbearable.

It’s not like anything has happened, not really. No one has said anything, no lines have been crossed, but the air between you and Daryl hasn’t been the same since that night in your cell.

It’s in the way his eyes catch on you more often now. The way he lingers a little too long before walking away. The way your skin prickles when he’s nearby, too aware of the space he takes up, too aware of how small you feel in comparison.

And now, you’re on another run together.

“Last one went well,” Rick had said, shoving packs toward both of you. “Might as well stick with what works.”

The drive into town is quiet. Neither of you talk much, just like last time, but it’s not the same. There’s a different kind of weight, and you’re grateful that the open road on the motorcycle leaves little conversation to be said over its echoing roar.

When you finally reach an old pharmacy on the outskirts, the sun is starting to climb higher in the sky, heat burning your neck and the pavement glimmering.

Inside, dust clings to everything, thick in the air. It smells stale, like old paper and time left to rot. Shelves are overturned, bottles and boxes scattered across the floor.

You do your job, scanning for anything useful, but your focus keeps slipping.

Because every time you glance up, Daryl is there.

He’s not doing anything different. Not saying anything. Just moving through the space like he always does—quiet, efficient. But somehow, it feels like every single movement is deliberate. Like every shift of muscle under his skin is something you shouldn’t be watching, but you are.

The dust-covered counter at the back of the building gives you something to focus on, something to do besides thinking about the weight of Daryl’s gaze. You hop over the counter and crouch down, scanning the lowest shelf, rifling through half-empty boxes of medication, checking for anything still worth taking back.

A prickle of awareness crawls up the back of your neck.

It’s not the usual kind of awareness you get on a run, not the instinct that tells you someone—or something— dangerous is lurking nearby. It’s different. Warmer. Closer.

When you stand, a bottle of pills in your hand, you nearly jump out of your skin.

Daryl is right there, barely a foot away, standing between you and the only way out.

Your breath stutters. He doesn’t usually get this close without reason.

He’s blocking the exit, but it doesn’t feel like he’s trapping you—it feels like he’s stopping himself from walking away. His weight shifts between his feet, his arms twitch like they want to cross, but he doesn’t move, just watches you with something unreadable in his eyes.

Your fingers tighten around the bottle in your hand. “Wha—what’s up?”

Daryl doesn’t answer at first. He just looks at you, quiet and considering, something simmering beneath the surface. His teeth catch against the corner of his lip for a second, his fingers flex at his sides, but it’s like he still hasn’t worked out how to say whatever it is that’s sitting heavy on his chest.

Then he exhales through his nose and mutters, “Can’t stop thinkin’.”

His voice is rough, like the words have been stuck in his throat all day.

Your pulse jumps. “Thinking... about what?”

He shifts again on uneven footing, glancing toward the counter before dragging his gaze back to you. The moment stretches, thick enough to smother, before he finally speaks again.

“Since last time,” he mutters, voice quieter now. Your stomach flips. He shakes his head, almost to himself. “You got me all fucked up, girl.”

It’s not frustration, not really—it’s more like exhaustion, like he’s tired of pretending that something between you hasn’t changed. And when he steps forward, closing the last bit of space between you, your body reacts before your brain catches up.

Your back hits the wall behind you.

The old metal shelving is cool against your skin, a sharp contrast to the heat rolling off him. He’s so close now, close enough that you catch the faint scent of pine and sweat clinging to him, close enough that every nerve in your body locks up, unsure whether to tense or melt.

His arms come up, hands bracing against the metal on either side of you, and suddenly you can’t look anywhere but at him.

Your breath feels too shallow.

Daryl dips his head slightly, breath warm against your cheek, and you hear the way he inhales, slow and deep, smelling the remnants of the apple shampoo you used days ago. 

“S’not like I haven’t thought of ya before.”

A shiver runs down your spine, and your lips part, but you don’t know what to say. You can barely think straight with him this close, his voice this low. He smells of musk and leather and summer sunshine, something distinctly masculine and Daryl all at once. His words sink in, heavy and real, and before you can even process them, he huffs a quiet breath, shaking his head against the side of yours.

“Thought of ya a lot, actually.”

Your stomach twists, heat flaring under your skin.

Daryl pulls back just enough to look at you, and that’s when you see it—the way his pupils are blown, the way his breath comes slow and measured like he’s still holding something back. His jaw is tight, his fingers flex slightly against the metal, and you don’t know whether he’s waiting for permission or for you to push him away.

“Say somethin’,” he murmurs, voice rough like gravel in your ears. “Please.”

You reach up then, your hand trembling slightly as your fingers brush along his jaw, skimming over the uneven scruff growing in patches on his face. He exhales, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as you trace up along his cheekbone, down the side of his neck, feeling the tension there, the way his pulse beats strong beneath your fingertips.

“I think of you a lot too,” you finally manage to say, and it’s barely louder than a whisper.

His eyes open, still blown wide as they flicker between yours, then drop to your lips. His breath is slow, measured, like he’s forcing himself to hold back.

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” you breathe. It’s more than just a response—it’s permission, it’s consent, letting him know that whatever he’s thinking, whatever’s been running through his mind, you want it too.

And like you’ve just cut the cord that’s been wound too tight between you, he pushes forward, his lips crashing into yours with urgency.

You’re surprised just how soft his lips are, how gentle he tries to be, but the way he moves is anything but hesitant. There’s no testing, no waiting—he’s done holding back, done second-guessing. He kisses you like he’s been starving for it, like it’s something he’s wanted for too damn long, and you can’t help but act in equal fervor.

Your fingers tighten against his jaw, then slide up into his hair, gripping, pulling. He groans into your mouth, the sound low, wrecked, sending a sharp pulse of heat straight through you. His hands move without restraint now, gripping at your waist, fingers pressing into your hips, pulling you closer like the space between you is unbearable.

You barely register the sharp clatter of bottles knocked from the shelves as your back presses harder against the metal. Daryl doesn’t seem to care. If anything, the mess spurs him on, makes him more reckless, more desperate.

He kisses you deeper, tongue sliding against yours in a way that makes your legs weak, makes your stomach tighten. He’s breathing hard, fingers digging into your sides, body pressing fully into you now, until there’s nothing between you but heat and friction.

His lips drag from your mouth down to your jaw, then lower, his breath hot as he murmurs against your skin. “Been losin’ my mind over you all damn week.” His teeth catch on the pulse in your neck, not biting, just grazing, making you shudder. “Longer than that, if I’m bein’ honest.”

Your nails bite into his shoulders as he kisses lower, pressing into the spot just beneath your jaw, the one that makes your breath hitch. His hands are everywhere—roaming, gripping, sliding beneath the hem of your shirt. His fingertips brush against bare skin, warm and rough, and you arch into his touch without thinking.

“Daryl…”

He groans at the way you say his name, a quiet, broken sound that sends a deep shudder through his body. He presses his forehead against yours for a second, breath ragged, like he’s trying to steady himself but failing. Then his hands tighten on your waist, lifting you effortlessly onto the counter of the pharmacy.

You gasp softly, but he’s already between your legs, already pulling you flush against him, the heat between your bodies unbearable. His lips are on yours again, claiming, devouring, his hands moving up your thighs, squeezing, gripping like he can’t get enough.

Your fingers tangle in his hair as you kiss him harder, the urgency between you growing into something more frantic, more consuming. His hands slide beneath your shirt, pushing it up and over your head, and you shiver as his palms drag over your ribs, rough and warm.

His mouth leaves yours just long enough to mutter against your skin, voice thick with something wild, something unraveling. “You sure about this?”

Your only answer is to pull him back in, crashing your lips to his, fingers fisting in his shirt as you tug him closer, needing him, needing more.

That’s all he needs. His shirt is gone in the next instant with yours following suit, and the moment the fabric is over your head, his lips are on you again, everywhere. You arch into his touch, heat rolling through you as his mouth works down your neck, trailing over your collarbone, then lower. Each kiss leaves behind something electric, something you feel everywhere, and when he drags lower still, down onto your bare chest, his lips and teeth and tongue worship everywhere but where you want him most.

Your breath hitches, your hands restless, gripping at his arms, his shoulders, his hair—anywhere you can reach, anywhere you can pull him closer. He’s between your legs now, his body solid, burning against yours, his hands gripping your thighs, fingers flexing like he’s holding himself back.

You look down at him, ready to beg, but the sight of him wrecks you.

Daryl between your legs, his lips on your skin, mouth open, breath warm as he stares at you like he’s never seen anything like you before.

Any coherent thought vanishes the moment his lips close around your nipple.

A breathless moan leaves your lips as his tongue flicks over it, hot and slow, sending a deep ache curling low in your stomach. His rough fingers knead your other breast, rolling and pinching your sensitive skin in just the right way, his touch deliberate, like he’s learning you, like he’s memorizing every reaction.

You arch into him, pressing closer, needing more, but he keeps the pace slow, like he’s savoring every second, like he wants to soak in every feel of your body against his. 

His tongue swirls over the sensitive bud, lips tugging gently before he soothes it with another slow flick, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. His other hand stays firm on your breast, rolling, kneading, fingers rough with callouses as he works you over with slow, steady intent. It’s almost too much, yet not enough, and you feel yourself tilting between the two sensations, every nerve in your body locked onto the way he’s touching you, kissing you, like he never wants to stop.

You’re barely aware of your own sounds, the quiet gasps, the soft moans, the way your hands dig into his shoulders, trying to pull him closer, needing him closer. His mouth moves lower, lips dragging down your stomach, his hands sliding along your sides, gripping your waist like he’s grounding himself.

Then, just when you think he’s going to keep going, he stops.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, chest rising and falling, lips slick and parted. His hands squeeze at your waist, thumbs brushing slow over your skin, and he swallows, throat bobbing as he exhales through his nose.

“Turn around,” he murmurs, voice wrecked, thick with something dark, something unfiltered.

Your breath catches.

You do as he says, shifting, dropping your feet to the floor and gripping the edge of the counter to steady yourself as you twist in his hold. The air feels even thicker now, hotter, your pulse hammering as his hands slide over your hips, guiding you exactly where he wants you.

His palms press firm against your lower back, tracing down to your waist before his fingers hook into the waistband of your pants. There’s no rush in the way he tugs them down, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring every new inch of skin he reveals. The scrape of fabric against your thighs sends a shiver rolling through you, and when they finally pool at your ankles, his hands smooth back up, gripping, kneading, pulling you back into him.

A sharp inhale leaves your lips when you feel him press against you, his breath warm at the curve of your neck. His fingers flex at your hips, gripping tight, like he’s still trying to hold himself back, like he’s at war with the need running through him.

“Goddamn,” he mutters under his breath.

You don’t have time to respond before his lips are on your shoulder, teeth grazing your skin, hands gripping you tighter, pulling you flush against him. The heat of him seeps through you, burning into your skin, your body molding against his like you were always meant to fit there.

Then, slowly, his hand slides up.

You barely register the shift before the weight of his arm is curling around your neck, firm but careful, forearm bracing across your throat, holding you in place. The solid strength of his muscles—it’s everything you imagined, everything you tried so hard to ignore when the thought first crossed your mind.

A low, rough chuckle rumbles against your ear.

“This what you wanted, ain’t it?” His voice is gravel, wrecked, thick with something primal as his breath ghosts along your jaw. His hold tightens just slightly, just enough to make you shudder. “My arm around this pretty neck?”

His words send a shudder through you, pooling heat low in your stomach as your hands grip the counter harder. His arm is thick around your neck, a steady weight that makes you dizzy with want, and when he tightens it just slightly, enough to make you feel it, a whimper escapes your lips before you can stop it.

“Yes,” you breathe, voice barely there.

Daryl stills for half a second like he wasn’t expecting you to admit it so easily. Then he makes a noise low in his throat, something rough, something wrecked, and his grip on you tightens.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, his voice thick, warm, almost tender in contrast to how strong he feels behind you. His nose brushes against your jaw, his lips grazing over your pulse as his other hand trails lower, fingers pressing into the soft flesh of your hip. “What a sweet thing you are”

The praise sends a jolt through you, your breath catching, fingers twitching against the counter as he shifts behind you. Then you hear it, a belt coming loose and buckle clattering to the floor with the jeans he was wearing and suddenly you feel him– heavy and thick as he nudges against you, the heat of it pressing right against your slick entrance.

Your whole body tenses, then melts, nails digging into his arm where it rests against your throat. 

Daryl lets out a slow, shuddering breath, nipping lightly at the edge of your ear before murmuring, “Christ, barely touched you and you’re all wet. This all for me?” His hips press forward again, slow, teasing, and you let out a quiet whimper, pushing back into him without thinking. His cock notches into you then, and you both let out a sudden gasp.

“That’s it,” he praises, lips pressing against the shell of your ear, his voice low and soothing and coaxing as his cock sinks deeper into you. “You’re so damn good. Feels good, don’t it?”

You don’t think you’ve ever heard him talk like this before, soft and filthy all at once, like he’s pouring everything he has into the way he touches you, the way he holds you. You nod, swallowing hard. “So good, Daryl.”

His breath turns heavier, warmer against your skin as he pulls you back onto him, slow and steady, letting you feel every inch as he buries himself inside you. His grip tightens at your hip, steadying you, holding you exactly where he wants you, but the real weight—the one that sends a full-body shudder through you—is his arm, still firm around your neck. You back arches against him, leaning into the muscles of his forearm as he holds you into the crook of his elbow.

“There you go,” he rasps, his voice strained, wrecked. His hips rock forward again, sinking deeper, stretching you, and a ragged moan slips from your lips. His grip flexes, and he presses a kiss to the side of your neck, lips warm, tongue flicking against your pulse before he nips at it, dragging his teeth over the sensitive skin. “Knew you’d take me so good.”

Your nails dig harder into his arm, fingers curling around his wrist where he holds you, your breath hitching as he starts to move. Slow at first, testing, drawing himself out before pushing back in, each roll of his hips deliberate, each thrust pressing deeper, setting a rhythm that already has you unraveling.

His arm around your neck tightens, just slightly, just enough to make your next breath stutter, to make the heat between your legs coil tighter.  His breath is hot against your ear, rough and ragged, the tension in his body coiled so tight you can feel it thrumming through his chest, through the arm braced around your throat.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he groans, his voice raw, nearly pained as he rocks into you. "You don’t even know what you’re doin’ to me."

His hips move with slow precision at first, teasing, working you open, dragging out every sensation like he wants you to feel him, to know that he’s the one making you come apart like this. His fingers dig into your hip, pulling you back onto him, the blunt head of his cock pressing deep with every thrust.

"Been thinkin’ about this," he murmurs, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear. "Bout how tight you’d feel, how fuckin’ perfect you’d take me. You feel that, baby?" He drives into you harder then, pushing you flush against the counter, stealing your breath with the sheer force of it. "Feels better than I ever imagined."

Your nails claw at his arm, breath ragged as his grip tightens just slightly around your neck, just enough to hold you there, to keep you at his mercy. His hips snap into you then, harder and faster now that you’ve adjusted to the sheer stretch of his cock. 

"Shit," he groans, pressing an open-mouthed kiss against your jaw, sucking at the delicate skin before biting down, his voice going strained. "You like this, don’t ya? Bein’ held like this? Wrapped up in me, nowhere to go."

You whimper, pushing back into him, chasing the heat, the pressure, the way he’s unraveling you piece by piece.

His free hand slides down, dipping between your legs, his fingers finding you slick and swollen, rubbing slow, purposeful circles that make your knees shake.

"Fuck, look at you," he mutters, pressing his forehead to the side of your head, his breath coming harder now. "Gettin’ all worked up, takin’ it so damn well." His fingers flick over your clit, pressing just right, and you let out a broken moan. "That’s it, baby. Let me hear you. Been dreamin’ ‘bout these sounds."

His thrusts grow rougher, deeper, and the tension in your belly coils tight, too tight, everything building.

Daryl feels it.

"Yeah," he breathes, his voice shaking now, wrecked with how good you feel around him. "I know, sweetheart. Feels like your body’s beggin’ for it, huh?" His lips drag over your jaw, his hips pounding into you now, chasing that high. "Wanna cum all over me, don’t ya?"

The coil snaps at his words, white-hot and blinding as his arm tightens, stealing the breath from you completely. Your entire body goes taut as pleasure crashes over you, so sharp and overwhelming as your lungs scream for air. Your walls flutter around him, squeezing tight, and Daryl groans deep in his chest, his rhythm going sloppy, erratic.

"Shit, you’re milkin’ me, baby," he groans, his fingers moving to grip your hips, "Goddamn, you feel like fuckin’ heaven." 

He holds you, hips pinning you against the counter as he buries himself deep, shuddering against you as he spills inside you.

His hold around your neck finally eases, his hand smoothing over your collarbone, his lips pressing soft, lingering kisses against the side of your neck as both of you come down together.

"You alright?" His voice is quieter now, rough around the edges, but there’s something tender in it, something real.

You exhale shakily, your body still humming from the aftershocks, a slow, blissed-out smile creeping across your lips. "Yeah. That was… that was so hot."

Daryl huffs out a small, breathless laugh, pressing a lingering kiss against the side of your neck. His hands keep roaming, slow and absentminded, smoothing over your waist, tracing lazy circles along your hips, like he doesn’t want to let go just yet.

"Yeah?" He nuzzles into your shoulder, his lips grazing your damp skin. "Ain’t never tried it before." His voice is warm, a little smug, but softer than before, like he’s still coming down from it too.

You hum, stretching slightly against him, still pressed chest to back. "Me neither. Somethin’ about you, Dixon."

Daryl makes a sound deep in his throat, something pleased, something almost knowing. His fingers tighten just slightly at your hip, his lips brushing the curve of your jaw before he murmurs, "Ain’t gonna be the last time, neither."

“Promise?” you chuckle, turning in his arms to snake your hands around his neck.

Daryl smirks, slow and lazy, his breath warm against your skin as he tilts his head, letting your fingers slip into his hair. His hands slide lower, resting at the curve of your back, holding you against him like he has no intention of letting go.

"Yeah," he murmurs, voice rough but sure. "Promise."

His lips find yours again, softer this time, slower, like he’s savoring it, like he’s already thinking about the next time, about how he’ll take his time with you, about all the things he wants to do.

[unabletonotlovesatoru]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ teddy’s notes: kinda bridget jones’s diary coded/inspired bc its one of my fav romcoms, watched it solely bc of colin firth when i was 15 and i think nanami kinda reminds me of him soooo, also reader is awkward and bridget inspired obvi

new year’s resolutions were stupid. you knew this. they were a yearly tradition of setting unrealistic goals and then abandoning them by february. and yet, here you were, writing them down anyway.

1. stop embarrassing self in front of nanami kento.

2. get life together (financially, emotionally, spiritually, etc.).

3. no more hopeless pining over emotionally unavailable men (see: nanami kento).

you tapped your pen against your notebook, frowning.

this was going to be a disaster.

nanami had been a problem for you for far too long. serious, disciplined, devastatingly handsome—he made suits look unfairly good, and his deadpan sarcasm made your brain short-circuit. worse, he was kind to you. not in a flirty, obvious way, but in that nanami way—remembering how you took your coffee, covering you with his jacket when you fell asleep on a mission, standing between you and danger without a second thought.

but that was just who he was.

and you? you were… not like him. your life was a mess. you were the kind of person who accidentally sent texts to the wrong people, spilled coffee on important documents, and tripped over nothing. a disaster, really.

so, resolution #1. stop embarrassing yourself in front of him.

simple enough.

except it was not simple, because ten minutes later, you were at gojo’s new year’s party, wine glass in hand, already halfway to ruining your life.

“looking serious as always, nanamin.” gojo slung an arm around nanami’s shoulders, grinning like the menace he was. “you here to celebrate, or did someone trick you into coming?”

“i was invited,” nanami replied, sipping his drink. “and unlike some people, i have manners.”

you watched from across the room, pretending not to stare. he looked unfairly good in that suit—tie loosened just enough, hair slightly tousled. new year’s was supposed to be a time of fresh starts, and yet here you were, still hopelessly into him.

“you’re staring,” shoko murmured beside you.

“i’m not—”

“you are,” she said, smirking. “just go talk to him.”

“no. absolutely not.” you took a sip of wine. “besides, he doesn’t think of me that way.”

shoko gave you a look. “right. sure. keep telling yourself that.”

before you could argue, gojo’s voice rang out.

“alright, everyone, five minutes to midnight!”

the room buzzed with excitement, couples moving closer, people laughing as they grabbed champagne. you swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that at midnight, there would be a moment—the kind of moment where people kissed, or at the very least, awkwardly looked around for someone to kiss.

you, of course, had no such luck.

instead, you found yourself standing near nanami, your brain short-circuiting as you tried to act normal.

he glanced down at you. “enjoying yourself?”

“oh, yeah. love parties. love new year’s. nothing like a fresh start.” you gestured vaguely, then immediately regretted it because you nearly sloshed your drink onto his sleeve.

nanami raised a brow. “right.”

you cleared your throat. “what about you? any resolutions?”

he was quiet for a moment, then said, “just one.”

before you could ask what, gojo started counting down.

“ten! nine! eight—”

the room filled with excitement, voices overlapping, people turning to their partners. you, meanwhile, were frozen in place, heart hammering.

seven! six! five—

nanami was still watching you, expression unreadable.

four! three—

you opened your mouth, about to say something, anything—

two! one!

the room erupted into cheers, and before you could process it, nanami was leaning in, his hand brushing your waist.

oh.

your breath caught, and then—softly, gently—he kissed you.

it wasn’t dramatic. it wasn’t some grand, cinematic moment. it was just him, warm and steady, like he had been waiting for the right time.

when he pulled back, you stared at him, dazed.

“happy new year,” he murmured.

you blinked. “oh. uh. yeah. happy new year.”

nanami huffed a quiet laugh, then—so casually it nearly knocked you off your feet—brushed a thumb over your cheek before stepping away.

you stood there, absolutely wrecked, as gojo whistled somewhere in the background.

shoko sidled up beside you, smirking. “so. about him not thinking of you that way…”

you groaned, burying your face in your hands. resolution #1 was already a failure.

but honestly? maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

[fayelero]

ⓘ 01. MY KIND OF WOMAN !

⤷ FLUFF ﹫ kirishima eijiro x fem!reader ﹫ oneshot

⚠︎ pure fluff, friends to lovers, clumsy kirishima .ᐟ.ᐟ

kirishima paced back and forth in bakugo’s dorm room, running a hand through his already messy red hair. his mind was racing, his heart pounding like he had just finished an intense sparring session, but for once, it wasn’t because of training. it was because of you.

and now, here he was, seeking advice from bakugo, of all people—who currently sat slouched in his desk chair, arms crossed, an unimpressed scowl on his face.

“oi, quit pacing, shitty hair, you’re giving me a headache.” bakugo grumbled, kicking at kirishima’s leg as he passed by for the fifth time.

kirishima stopped in his tracks, rubbing the back of his neck with an awkward chuckle. “ah, sorry, man. i just—this is kinda important, y’know?”

bakugo raised a brow, clearly not convinced. “tch. if it’s so important, why the hell are you asking me?”

kirishima took a deep breath and sat down on the edge of bakugo’s bed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “because, dude, you’re… brutally honest. and i need that right now.”

bakugo scoffed. “damn right.”

kirishima exhaled heavily. “okay, so, it’s about her—”

bakugo groaned loudly. “of course it is.”

“—and i think i’m in love with her, man.”

that caught bakugo’s attention, if only slightly. his red eyes flicked to kirishima’s face, scanning for any sign of hesitation. there was none.

“yeah? no shit. took you long enough to figure that out.”

kirishima blinked. “wait, you knew?”

bakugo rolled his eyes. “dumbass. it’s obvious. you follow her around like a lost puppy, always hypin’ her up, always lookin’ at her like she’s the damn sun or somethin’. it’s pathetic.”

kirishima let out a defeated groan, flopping backward onto bakugo’s bed. “ugh, i knew it. i knew i was bein’ obvious. no wonder she doesn’t see me that way.”

bakugo made a face. “or maybe she’s just as dumb as you are.”

kirishima sat up again, eyes wide with hope. “wait—you think she might like me back?”

bakugo shrugged. “dunno. don’t care. that’s your problem.”

kirishima sighed, rubbing his temples. “alright, well… that’s not even the main thing. the real problem is—how the hell do i tell her? how do i tell her that she’s the most badass, kind, and incredible person i’ve ever met without soundin’ like a total idiot?”

bakugo narrowed his eyes. “…that’s what you’re stuck on?”

kirishima blinked. “huh?”

“you’re actin’ like confessin’ is some kinda battle strategy. just spit it out.”

kirishima exhaled sharply. “i can’t! she’s my kind of woman, y’know? she’s strong, she’s passionate, she never backs down from a fight. she’s got this fire in her that makes me wanna be better. and she’s gorgeous, dude, like—way outta my league. and somehow, she still treats me like i’m someone worth standing next to.”

bakugo stared at him for a long moment before shaking his head. “god, you’re such a sap.”

kirishima groaned. “i know! that’s the problem!”

bakugo pinched the bridge of his nose. “then stop overthinkin’ it. you already know what to do.”

kirishima furrowed his brows. “i do?”

“tch. you don’t gotta be some smooth-talking dumbass. just be you. tell her what you just told me—minus the whining.”

kirishima hesitated, then slowly grinned. “…y’know what? you’re right. i do know what to do.”

bakugo rolled his eyes. “obviously. now get the hell out of my room.”

kirishima laughed as he stood up. “alright, alright. thanks, man. you’re a way better listener than you let on.”

“shut up before i kill you.”

kirishima grinned as he left, heart racing—but this time, it wasn’t from nerves. it was from excitement. because now?

now he was really gonna tell you.

kirishima had faced a lot of scary things in his life. villains. grueling training sessions. bakugo in a bad mood. but somehow, none of those compared to the sheer terror he felt as he made his way through the dorms, heart hammering in his chest like it was trying to break free.

he was really gonna do it. he was gonna confess.

at least, that was the plan.

unfortunately, nervous energy had turned him into a full-blown disaster.

his first mistake was misjudging the distance between the common room couch and the coffee table. he tried to casually step over it, but his foot caught on the edge, and he nearly face-planted.

“shit—”

“dude, you good?” kaminari blinked from his spot on the couch, holding a controller mid-game.

“yeah! yeah, totally good!” kirishima laughed awkwardly, straightening up as if that hadn’t just happened. his cheeks burned as he quickly power-walked toward the exit before he embarrassed himself even more.

his second mistake? the door.

it was a push door. he pulled.

it didn’t budge. he frowned, yanked again. nothing.

“uh…”

sero, who had just entered the common room, raised an eyebrow. “you good, man?”

“i—yeah, i—” kirishima realized his mistake mid-sentence, quickly pushing it open instead. “see? totally fine.”

sero didn’t look convinced. “riiight…”

kirishima groaned under his breath as he finally made it outside, inhaling the crisp evening air. okay. deep breaths. he could do this.

then he saw you.

sitting on a bench near the garden, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, you were completely absorbed in your book. the wind played with your hair, making it dance around your face, but you hardly noticed, eyes scanning the pages with quiet focus. your fingers gently turned the page, movements delicate and unhurried, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.

and just like that, kirishima’s brain short-circuited.

how the hell am i supposed to just walk up to her and drop a confession like that?!

his palms were sweating. his heart was racing. his legs? not cooperating at all.

but he had already come this far—backing out now would make him a coward.

so he forced himself to move, trying to act normal.

which, apparently, was not in the cards for him today.

the first thing he did was stub his toe on the edge of the pavement. he stumbled forward, barely catching himself before eating dirt.

then, as he tried to casually walk it off, he overcompensated, swinging his arms too much, like some weird overenthusiastic jogger.

you looked up just in time to see him approaching. his usually confident stride was replaced with something stiff and unnatural, like he was trying way too hard to look casual. you blinked at him, confused for a moment—then, a small, amused smile tugged at your lips.

“eijirou?” you called softly, tilting your head.

kirishima froze.

oh god, even just hearing you say his name in that soft, gentle tone made his heart do an entire gymnastics routine.

“uh—hey! hi! h-hey there!” he winced immediately. hey there?! who even says that?!

you chuckled, closing your book. “you okay?”

“me? totally fine! just… out here! enjoying the fresh air! like you! haha… yeah.”

he was dying.

you smiled again, patient as ever. “it’s nice, isn’t it?”

“yeah! nice! super nice. like… really, really nice.”

kirishima, for the love of god, shut up.

you hummed softly, shifting on the bench to make room beside you. “do you want to sit?”

oh. oh, that was dangerous.

but there was no way he could refuse, so he quickly nodded, plopping down next to you—too quickly. the force of it made the bench shake slightly, and he almost lost his balance again.

you let out another soft giggle. “you seem kinda jumpy today.”

“i—I do?”

you nodded, eyes twinkling with quiet amusement. “mhm.”

kirishima swallowed hard, gripping his knees to stop his hands from shaking. this is it. just say it. just tell her.

he looked at you, really looked at you—the way your eyes softened when you smiled, the way you always seemed so patient with him, the way your presence alone made him feel like he was home.

his throat tightened.

“i, uh—”

your gaze remained gentle, waiting.

kirishima’s heart was pounding. he could feel the words right there on the tip of his tongue—i like you. no, i love you. you’re my kind of woman. you always have been.

but suddenly, his fear kicked in full force.

what if you didn’t feel the same? what if he ruined this? what if this easy, natural friendship between you shattered because he couldn’t keep his damn feelings to himself?

so instead of saying what he wanted to say, he panicked.

“—i, uh, i was just wondering what book you’re reading!”

a pause.

you blinked.

then, you smiled. “oh, it’s just a romance novel.”

kirishima laughed, but it was a little too loud, a little too forced. “aha—yeah, romance, that’s cool! that’s, uh, really cool.”

you gave him a knowing look, but you didn’t push. instead, you simply opened the book and started talking about the story, your voice calm and soothing.

kirishima barely heard a word. his own thoughts were too loud.

damn it. i chickened out.

but as you kept talking, smiling so softly, so effortlessly, kirishima felt some of his tension ease. maybe he hadn’t confessed tonight.

but at least he was here, with you.

and maybe, just maybe, he’d find the courage next time.

kirishima barely processed a word you were saying.

he was nodding along, making the occasional hum of agreement, but in reality? his brain was still spiraling from the fact that he had completely chickened out. again.

you had given him the perfect chance, sitting beside him, smiling at him, soft and patient as ever. and what had he done? asked about your book. like an idiot.

but even now, as the two of you fell into easy conversation about other things—the day’s training session, how kaminari had nearly set off the fire alarm again, how aizawa looked two seconds away from quitting—kirishima still felt like his chest was too tight.

because you were right there.

the sun had nearly set, casting the sky in hues of pink and orange, and the soft glow of the dorm lights made your features even gentler. your voice, your laughter, the way you turned to look at him with that natural warmth—it was killing him.

and the longer he sat there, the worse it got.

his heart felt too full, his hands clenched into fists on his lap. the words were bubbling up again, just like before, but he was determined not to let them slip out.

so, of course, they did.

“man, i love you.”

the words left his lips so naturally, so effortlessly, that for a split second, he didn’t even realize what he had said.

then, he did.

and his whole world stopped.

you stopped talking mid-sentence. your eyes went wide, lips slightly parted in surprise.

kirishima’s heart nearly gave out.

“—wait, no—” he shot up from the bench so fast that he nearly tripped over his own feet. his arms flailed, his hands waving in a panicked frenzy. “i-i mean—not like that! i mean—I do! but not—I mean, yes, but—oh god, i wasn’t supposed to say that!”

you just stared at him, stunned.

kirishima’s face was on fire.

his words kept tumbling out in a messy, frantic rush. “i—I didn’t mean to say it like that! i was gonna say it eventually—no, wait, i mean—I wasn’t not gonna say it, but not right now! i had a plan! a good one! and now i ruined it—”

you blinked. then, slowly, your lips curved into a soft, amused smile.

kirishima’s heart stuttered.

“i’m an idiot,” he groaned, running both hands down his face. “i—I swear, i was gonna do this properly, not just—blurt it out like that—”

you let out a quiet laugh.

kirishima froze.

he peeked at you through his fingers, confused. “w-what?”

you didn’t answer right away. instead, you stood up, stepping closer, until you were right in front of him. the sudden lack of space made his breath hitch, but before he could freak out further—

you leaned up on your toes, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek.

kirishima went completely still.

every thought in his brain short-circuited.

then, just as he felt his soul leave his body, you pulled back, still smiling that gentle, beautiful smile of yours.

“i love you too, eijirou.”

kirishima forgot how to function.

“you—you what—” his voice cracked mid-sentence.

you laughed, reaching out to take one of his hands in yours. your fingers were warm, soft, delicate against his own calloused ones, and it made his entire body light up.

“i love you,” you repeated, softer this time, looking up at him with eyes full of warmth. “i have for a while.”

kirishima genuinely thought he might pass out.

his mouth opened. then closed. then opened again. his brain was running at a thousand miles an hour, desperately trying to process what was happening.

you… loved him?

him?

his face was burning, his heart was pounding, his entire body felt like it was buzzing. he was so sure that he’d ruined everything. that you’d look at him with pity or let him down gently.

but instead, you had kissed his cheek. held his hand. told him you loved him.

and suddenly, every single ounce of nervousness and panic melted away.

because this was you.

the girl who always cheered for him. the girl who always listened to him ramble. the girl who had been by his side through everything.

the girl he had loved for so damn long.

a slow, disbelieving grin spread across his face.

“holy shit,” he breathed. “you—you love me?”

you giggled. “yes, eiji.”

a breathless laugh escaped him, and suddenly, he didn’t know what to do with himself. he ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head, his heart soaring. “oh my god—I—wow—I cannot believe i just accidentally confessed—”

“would you have ever done it on purpose?” you teased lightly.

kirishima let out a sheepish chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “…probably not.”

you squeezed his hand. “then i’m glad you did.”

his stomach flipped.

for a moment, he just looked at you, the realization settling in fully.

you loved him back.

you had always been his kind of woman. and now? now you were his.

he exhaled deeply, then, without thinking, squeezed your hand and tugged you just a little closer.

“so, uh… does this mean i get to kiss you now?” he asked, grinning despite the heat still burning his cheeks.

you laughed, rolling your eyes fondly. “yes, you dork.”

and with that, kirishima finally—finally—closed the distance.

the end.

[swappedman]

Becoming His Type

I had never been good at confessing my feelings. But this Valentine’s Day, I was finally going to do it. After months of crushing on Jake—his easy smile, his warm laugh, the way he made everyone feel special—I couldn’t keep it in any longer.

I spent hours getting ready, rehearsing my words, smoothing out my dress. With a box of chocolates in hand, I found him outside of class and took a deep breath.

“Jake, I—um—I really like you. Would you want to go out sometime?”

His expression shifted instantly—an awkward, apologetic look that made my heart sink.

“Oh… wow,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re really great, but I just don’t see you that way.”

I forced a smile. Laughed it off. Acted like it didn’t matter. But it did.

That night, staring at my ceiling, I whispered into the dark, I just wish I could be everything he wanted.

When I woke up, something felt wrong. My body was heavier in places it shouldn’t be, lighter in others. My shirt fit differently. My voice—low and groggy—wasn’t mine. I scrambled out of bed and nearly tripped over my own feet.

And then I saw him in the mirror.

Dark, messy hair. Sharp jawline. Lean muscle under my suddenly short, tight crop top. Hands larger than they should be. A body that wasn’t mine—but was undeniably me.

My phone buzzed, and I picked it up with shaky fingers. A message from my best friend:

“So… did you know Jake’s into guys? Because that rejection? Definitely not about you.”

My breath caught.

I had wished to be everything he wanted.

And now, I was.

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone! Hope you enjoy this quick story! Also thank you for all the love on my stories! I just started this blog a little over a week ago and I’m so excited to see the places it goes!

[wqlfstqr]

◟𖥻 cherry lipstick : harry potter

▰▰ pairing: harry potter x fem!reader

when harry's curious about lipstick, she takes him by surprise— by showing him how it tastes.

mari talks! had to get this out of my mind, I'll always love flustered/awkward harry potter.

Harry had tried to keep himself away from her. He really tried. But how could he, when she has this pull on him that no one else has. Her effect is always immediate, every time she walks into a room, Harry feels the need to drop everything if only just to look at her.

She is beautiful, of course Harry is not the first or last one to notice it. But he is the first to be distracted enough by her to end up blowing up a potion on his own face. That had landed him a scold from Snape and then— detention.

Snape had made him come back after the day ended to clean the potions classroom without magic. And it was a mess, not only after the disaster Harry himself had managed to pull, but also because first years had been receiving class after.

What he wasn't expecting was for her to walk into the room a few minutes later. "you're late, miss y/l/n" Snape told her without even looking up from the book he was reading, his voice cold. "I believe, the reason you were assigned detention again was because you were late to class."

Harry, who was trying very hard to stop himself from looking at her, rolled his eyes. "She's only two minutes late, I'm sure she'll be fine." he mumbled, because Harry was never one to control his smart mouth.

Snape looked up just to glare at him for the interruption. "As I was saying, that's thirty minutes more added to your detention, miss y/n. And since Potter made it clear that he doesn't mind a few minutes more, he will stay with you."

He barely has time to react before Snape looks at the clock on his desk and shuts down his book abruptly, tucks it under his arm and strides towards the door. "I have a meeting. You two better stay here and have everything clean when I'm back or else you'll spend tomorrow night cleaning again."

And with that, he steps out of the classroom, the door behind him closing with a click.

Silence, then— "thanks for trying I guess." she tells him softly as she takes a rag and comes closer to help Harry clean the desks.

"Couldn't help myself" He replies without looking up, he doesn't want to make a fool of himself.

She giggles but doesn't add anything else so they spend the next thirty minutes in silence and it's starting to drive Harry crazy, but he doesn't know how to start a conversation with her, he's way too nervous. Instead, he steals glances at her from time to time.

She's the one to break the silence again when she stops and looks around. "Do you reckon Snape would know if we used magic?"

When Harry looks up, she's already looking at him with her head tilted, an amused little smile on her lips. "His greasy head always knows everything." Harry tells her, smiling when he hears her giggling again.

He's expecting her to keep cleaning but instead she drops the rag, reaching into her robe and pulling something small. Harry doesn’t know what it is until she takes the cap off.

Lipstick.

He just can't help but watch, helpless, as she twists the tube and leans against the nearest reflective surface to apply it carefully on her lips.

Oh Harry's doomed. He knows he is. His heart pounds so loudly he's almost afraid she'll hear it. But she doesn't seem aware of it as she glides the lipstick over her lips, then pressing them together softly before pulling back to inspect her work.

He's so far gone that he doesn’t notice her turning around until it's too late, and he's not able to look away before she catches him staring at her.

"What?" She asks, her voice soft but full of amusement.

Harry gulps down, pushing his glasses up his nose nervously. He desperately tries to think of a normal excuse, but he can only stutter his way through words:

"I- I'm just- I guess I'm just curious about—" he feels like he's choking on words so he stops, looking away, the red on his cheeks giving away how embarrased he feels.

Her eyebrows raise, but far from being offended like Harry suspected she would, she smiles. If anything, she looks mischievous.

"Do you want to taste it, Potter?" She asks, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

Harry, ever oblivious, thinks it's just a tiny bit weird for her to offer her lipstick to him. But maybe she just finds it funny, so he simply agrees. "Yeah, I guess."

As she comes closer, he thinks she'll swipe some lipstick onto his lips. But then, she's stepping even closer and he's not sure he can even breathe. He finally understands what she was asking.

And before he can even think, she leans in— And kisses him. Soft, sweet. A simple press of lips, but Harry is so shocked into stillness that he doesn't think of doing anything, his heart racing.

When she pulls away, Harry's still frozen on his spot as her eyes flicker over his face, amusement shining through her expression.

"Well?" She asks, lips still so temptingly close to him. "Did you like it?"

Harry swallows thickly, and he has to stop himself from licking his lips as the cherry taste lingers on them.

"I—" he clears his throat, and he doesn’t even know where he gathers the confidence to keep talking. "I think I need to try it again. Just to be sure."

Her laugh is cut short by him pulling her by the waist to kiss her again, cherry lipstick melting against his lips.

The door creaks open almost an hour and a few more kisses later, and Snape walks back into the room, his face cold and unimpressed. Harry's just grateful they weren't caught, trying to act nonchalant and get his focus back on wiping down another table.

"Well, I expected a little more." Snape says as he surveys the room. "But at least you two managed not to destroy the classroom further. A miracle, truly."

While Harry hopes Snape doesn’t notice just out of it he is, y/n seems to be way better at keeping her cool, though he can swear he sees her trying to hide a smirk.

"I guess you're both dismissed, you can-" Snape interrupts himself once his eyes fall on Harry. "Potter, what is that on your lips?"

Harry's entire brain short-circuits. He could try to come up with some half-assed excuse, but— "Alright, Good night!" and then he's bolting out of the door.

y/n, much more composed, smiles at Snape as she walks pass him. "This was a lovely evening, professor" She says before casually following Harry out.

Snape doesn't have enough patience to try and find out what that was about.

Harry stumbles down the hallway, heart pounding, still flustered. It doesn’t take her too much time to catch up to him. "Leaving in a hurry, Potter?" She teases, her smile bright.

Harry groans, running a hand through his already messy hair—courtesy of y/n. "He was looking at me like he knew!"

"Oh he definitely knew." she hums, totally unbothered. "I mean, you did look suspicious with the whole— y'know." she gestures at his still stained lips.

He gapes at her, his cheeks burning. But he doesn't try to add anything else, his embarrasment still too big and his heart hammering in his chest as they walk side by side.

But when they're about to part ways, he can't help himself before he's blurting, "Go to hogsmeade with me this weekend."

For once, she seems taken by surprise, raising her eyebrows at him. "Like a date?"

He wasn't thinking about it as a date—well, he wasn't thinking at all to begin with. But the idea doesn’t sound bad at all. Who's he trying to trick? he really likes it.

"Yes, a date." He nods when he realizes she's still waiting for his reply.

She smiles, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "You can try strawberry lipstick next, see if you like it."

Harry laughs, definitely caught off guard. "Is that a yes?"

She's already strutting away from him, but she throws him a smile over her shoulder. "I'd love to, Harry."

Harry's heart jumps at the way she says his name, and he watches her walk away before he races up the stairs.

A few minutes later, when he bursts into his room, Ron immediately points at him. "Mate why are your lips so red?" he squints "is that lipstick on your cheek?"

He can only groan in response, dropping onto his bed and covering his face with his arm. He swears he could die right now.

But the stupid smile on his lipstick covered face? Yeah, he's definitely not getting rid of that anytime soon.

[heliosunny]

Bidding for trouble - Valentine

Artist [_netoII]

Jade stared at you like you’d grown a second head.

“So, let me get this straight” she said, unimpressed. “You’re asking for love advice.”

“For a friend.” you clarified.

Jade raised an eyebrow. “Right. A friend.”

“Yes.”

She didn’t believe you.

Honestly, you wouldn’t believe you either.

Meanwhile, Across the Room

Sugilite wasn’t eavesdropping.

Not on purpose, at least.

He had walked past the lounge, minding his own business—until he heard your voice. Something about love advice. At first, he didn’t care.

Then, he heard:

“I just don’t know how to confess to them.”

Sugilite stopped.

He froze mid-step, turned slightly, and shamelessly listened.

Jade sighed, flipping through some reports. “Alright. What’s the problem?”

“She’s afraid of ruining their friendship” you explained. “They’ve known each other for years, and she doesn’t want things to get awkward if he doesn’t feel the same.”

Jade hummed. “Sounds like a him problem.”

You blinked. “…What?”

“If he’s too dumb to see the signs, that’s his fault.”

“That’s not—”

“Tell your friend to just do it.”

You sighed. This was a mistake.

Meanwhile, Sugilite was spiraling.

You were in love with someone?

Since when? Who?

More importantly—why hadn’t he noticed?

He scoffed.

This wasn’t a problem.

He was just curious.

Later That Day

You walked back to your desk, exhausted. Helping your friend was harder than expected. As soon as you sat down, Sugilite leaned against your desk, staring.

You frowned. “…What?”

He tilted his head, pretending to be casual.

“You in a good mood today?”

You squinted. Suspicious. “…I guess?”

Sugilite hummed. “Yeah? You feeling lucky?”

“…What?”

“No reason.” He smirked. “Just wondering if you’ve got something exciting going on.”

You blinked. Then it hit you.

Oh no. Did he hear the conversation with Jade?

If he thought you were in love with someone…

You were never going to hear the end of it.

You stared at Sugilite, reading his expression carefully.

His smirk was too casual. His eyes too sharp.

For a split second, you considered panicking.

But then, you thought, No. I’m overthinking it.

There was no way he overheard.

You decided to change the subject.

“So!” You clapped your hands together, grinning. “Did you eat lunch yet?”

Sugilite blinked. “What?”

“Lunch” you repeated. “Food. That thing people need to survive.”

Sugilite squinted.

“…Are you buying?”

You hesitated.

“Um.”

Sugilite smirked. “No? That’s a shame.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. I’ll buy you a coffee or something.”

Sugilite lit up instantly.

“Deal.” He grabbed his coat. “Let’s go.”

You blinked. Wait, now?

—

The moment you walked into the store, you felt like you were on a mission.

Technically, you were.

You needed chocolate.

One for your friend.

One for Sugilite.

Which was totally not a big deal, by the way. You just thought it’d be funny to see his reaction. That was all. No other reason.

You grabbed a nice-looking box of chocolates for your friend—simple, elegant, nothing too flashy.

Then, you carefully picked another for Sugilite.

Something less serious. (Like a joke gift. Yes. That made sense.)

You stared at the shelves for a moment before grabbing a box that had “For the Most Annoying Person I Know” written on it.

Perfect.

Just as you went to pay, someone tapped your shoulder.

“Didn’t take you for the romantic type.”

Your soul left your body.

You turned slowly. Sugilite stood there, arms crossed, smirking.

“…Why are you here?” you asked, already regretting everything.

“I was gonna ask you that.” He glanced at the chocolates in your hands. “Who’s the lucky person?”

You panicked.

“Topaz.”

“What?”

Wait. No.

Wrong name. Wrong name.

“I-I mean—not like that! It’s for my friend!”

“…Your friend is Topaz?”

“No—! I mean—yes, but not the chocolates—”

Sugilite raised an eyebrow.

You groaned, covering your face.

This was going terribly.

Sugilite finally let it go, shrugging. “Whatever you say.”

He wasn’t convinced.

But you were too relieved to notice.

…Now, you just had to sneak his chocolate to him later without him figuring out.

Easy, right?

After escaping Sugilite’s interrogation, you rushed to meet your friend.

She was already waiting, looking extremely nervous.

“You got it?” she asked, fidgeting.

You handed her the box of chocolates. “Of course. Don’t worry, you’ve got this.”

She exhaled. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You can.” You patted her back. “Now go. Before I have to do it for you.”

She gasped in betrayal.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I absolutely would.”

With a dramatic groan, she finally went off to find her crush.

Now that that was done, you had to deal with the second part of your plan.

Getting Sugilite’s chocolate to him—without getting caught.

You left the box on his desk before he arrived.

It was foolproof.

Or so you thought.

Because the moment Sugilite walked into the office, he immediately knew.

He stared at the box.

Then at you.

Then back at the box.

Then back at you.

“…Seriously?”

You blinked innocently. “What?”

Sugilite sighed, picking up the box. “You’re terrible at being sneaky.”

You pouted. “Just take it.”

“Oh, I’m taking it” he said, smirking. “But don’t think for a second this is over.”

You suddenly had a very bad feeling.

The rest of the day passed without incident.

Which, honestly, worried you.

Sugilite was being suspiciously quiet.

Then, at the end of the day, he walked over to your desk, placed something in front of you, and left without another word.

You looked down.

It was a box of chocolates.

But not just any chocolates.

The message on the box read:

“For My Favorite Assistant (Who’s Terrible at Keeping Secrets)”

Your face burned.

From across the room, Sugilite just grinned.

[ziminy]

If you love me tonight

You moved in with Toji out of convenience, however, you two started to get along way too good, it's getting suspicious

Tags: smut, minors and ageless blogs do not interact, f!reader, college au, friends with benefits, roommates, oral (f!receiving) (lots of it), both of you have a crush on each other, fingering, virginity loss, humping, bad language, phone sex, basically just me writing this with my inexistent dick, not proofread

Author's note: happy valentine to all my girlies out there. I can't be there to make your day better but hope this fic will 😘

Author's note: I was going to post this sooner but I was out the whole day and didn't got the time to.

Masterlist roommatesmasterlist

You were in the same friend group, because somehow, out of nowhere, you were dragged into this group of dorks one day while walking around the school. And now you're stuck with them. Even so, you and Toji never really talked.

Yes you do have each other's numbers, yes you follow every single one of his social media accounts and he followed yours. And yes, you were seeing each other every single day. But you never really had the balls to talk to him.

It was something about him that made you feel intimidated. The whole group had you like that for the first two weeks since they adopted you, but you got over it after one night of partying too hard, almost puking in Satoru's car while he was taking you home. Waking up the next day with the whole gang in your place, scattered all over your room and sleeping like they didn't had other places to be.

You realized that they're idiots, every single one of them. It didn't matter how scary Sukuna looked with his tattoos and his shitty attitude, because deep down he was just a dumbass who was awkward at making jokes. He was so bad at them that the first few times you actually took his words seriously.

Or the trio, Gojo, Geto and Shoko who were just them. You don't really have anything to say about them since you see them so much you feel like the forth wheel to their tricycle.

The only normal person in that group was Nanami, but even he could lose control over himself. Like when he's drunk. How can you forget about the time you managed to steal his watch right from his wrist because he fell asleep while talking. You gave it back, but you still think about it from time to time and you still can't believe it how much he changes.

And you can't forget about Choso who when you first met him you thought he was going to drink your blood because he was dresses like a vampire lord. He looked so edgy, how could you have known that he cries while watching princess movies. Which, you're still surprised about it and you promised not to talk about it ever again. For his own good.

Now, it's not like you don't want to get close to Toji, it's just that unlike the others, he was the same as when you first met him. The same charismatic smile on, the same fuck ass attitude and how he seems to keep everybody at a relatively close distance. He was open about everything, but at the same time he looked like he was always lying. And you didn't know if you should take him seriously or pass it as a joke.

You were scared, and maybe it was from the way he posses, the way he dresses and talks. He wasn't trying to impress anybody, and it made you wander how he ended up in the group. Because he always seems to want to pick fights from the way he interacts with others.

That scar of his, you know it was rude to stare, but you just could not stop. It made your eyes instantly move on him when he opens his mouth, because it was something about the way his lips moves, and that shit eating grin. He was bad and he knows it, that's perhaps what made you afraid of him.

"Y/N, what happened?" it was a rainy night when the white haired man opened his door, revealing you who was soaked from head to toes, still in pijamas and a bag with what he could only guess were the essentials in your arms.

"I got in a fight with my roommates. Can I come in?" you said like you didn't just ran from home.

"What happened this time?" he knew your situation wasn't really bright but he didn't thought it was that bad.

"I don't know. Just woke up with them screaming at me. Women, what can I say." you shrugged, not understanding what got into them either. "Anyway, can I sleep here tonight?"

"Of course. Go take a bath, we'll talk about this after." you didn't thought much when you opened the front door, just running to the closest person that lives near to you. It was moments like these where you're glad you didn't blocked Gojo the first time he tried to get in your dms.

"So, what happened?" Shoko asked, looking at you who just got out the shower. Satoru was exaggerating, he shouldn't have called the whole group there.

"My roommates wants me out the house." not really surprising from the way they kept acting for the past few weeks.

"You should move out. Those girls are out of control." the blonde said, looking like he was dragged out of bed to be there, still in pijamas. But it wasn't surprising that he rushed there when he heard your name being involved.

"I agree. This is going nowhere." Suguru was right, your situation only escalated with each day that passed.

"Want me to get rid of them?" omg, Sukuna shut up.

"So, again. What happened this time?" at least Shoko was the normal one in there.

"They want to get their boyfriends in or something. But there's not enough space because of me apparently." maybe it was your fault too for not trying to get to know your roommates. But you can't blame yourself since they're attitudes turned you off.

"We'll find a new place, don't worry." you hoped so too.

"Daddy will pay for it. I'll get you an apartment in the same building as me." the white haired man said, making you shake your head instantly. You'll never be able to financially recover from this if he does that.

"I want a small place, just a room is alright if I can sleep in peace." it wasn't just about you here. I mean, sure, your opinion counts, but how can a room be enough for everybody? If you get a place it wasn't just yours, it belonged to the whole group somehow. Because what does privacy even means when you have such a big group of friends.

And so, from the moment the sun came out the next day, everybody started looking for a place cozy enough to fit your imagine, a home that you could call your own with a smile on your face. And big enough to not look like a doll house.

Everybody was on their own, because why working together when you can work individually and get the thing done even faster? However, you didn't expected Toji to approach you when you were at school, hands in his pocket and looking just as nonchalantly as ever. Does he ever get bored of wearing just black clothes?

"Heard you're looking for a place." not a hi, how are you. He just got straight to the subject. Well, he wasn't good at small talk to begin with, and because of that he often comes out as rude.

"Oh, yeah. I am." you nodded, looking at the big man who seems to have been working out more lately.

"Me too." really? You had no idea. "Looking for a roommate or something? We could share the rent." i mean, it didn't sounded bad. That way you had more options to chose from, since you won't be living alone.

"Sure. Why not." that was surprisingly easy. He thought you would say no or something about how you'll think about it. But if you're being honest, you don't think you could live alone. You're always surrounded by people. At home and here, you're never alone, and you have no idea what to if you're by yourself.

And now, you had to let others know about it. But if you're thinking about this, you don't think you can do it. I mean, you know that they'll exaggerate. How could you accepted someone's else help when they're trying so hard. But to your surprise, this wasn't as hard as you thought.

Everybody accepted your choice without a single complain. So what if you're moving in with a guy, they knew him. After all, Toji was one of their idiots, and everybody knew how he was so busy that he's rarely home to begin with. There's nothing to be afraid because they all knew where he lived if he dared to get too close to you. After all, you were such a sweetheart, how could they let anyone harm you in any way possible?

And now they had a new task. Find a better place for you to stay at, and make Toji pay more than 70% of the rent, because how dare he ask for you to move with him and make you pay 50/50. But the dark haired man was quicker than the rest, texting you before anyone else could about this place that he found near your college, and if you wanna go and see it.

Hell yeah. You spend no time and went there as soon as you could, now being in front of a nicely looking building. Somehow, you were surprised by how good it was looking, sure, it wasn't anything fancy, it didn't look expensive and over your budget, you're just surprised to see that it's well taken care of. You're standards were already low, plus he managed to find this place in such a short time. It was normal to be surprised.

How can you forget that Toji was part of the group too. Everybody had connections, you wouldn't be surprised if they're actually in some kind of underground organization and they took you in just to look more innocent.

But man, he knew what he was doing. The whole place looked so nice.

The apartment was on the second floor, being welcomed by a small hallway with a built in closet where you could store jackets and shoes. And after opening one more door, you were now in the living room that was shared with an open kitchen, a not so big couch in the middle of the room and two doors next to each other somewhere behind it. Those must be the bedrooms. But now that you're looking around, there were actually three doors, a small bathroom in the corner that had a pretty big bathtub. You're surprised it even fits in there.

And there even was a balcony, you couldn't fit more than two chairs in total but still. You now had a balcony.

"What do you think?" he asked, looking at you as he was waiting for your answer. He had to make a few phone calls to get this place, but it was better than to wait for those fuckers to do something.

"When can we move in?" by the end of the week you were already in there.

But you couldn't just spend the first day in there all alone, after all, it was an important date. The whole group had to be there, now inspecting the place like they're about to buy it.

"I don't like it. The bathroom it's too small." Sukuna said, trying to convince you to move to the place he chose.

"It's not too late to move in the same building as me. I found a three bedroom, two bathroom apartment on the third floor. I couldn't fine anything smaller than that." Satoru too was trying to convince you.

"I talked to my old landlady and she said you can move in whenever you want." even Nanami was trying to convince you to move out.

"Is this your bedroom?" everybody's eyes were on Choso.

"Me first." the white haired man ran there, jumping in your bed and being welcomed with a loud bang.

He broke your bed, he really just broke your bed.

"I was gonna sleep there." Shoko looked at the bed that was half on the floor and half still standing.

"Damn." nobody expected this to happen. "You're paying for this." your roommate said, not wanting to pay a single buck for something he didn't do.

Well, guess that now the plan changed. Originally everybody wanted to sleep over in case you didn't adjusted to the new place, but now they went home. Leaving you alone with your new roommate.

"Where are you sleeping tonight?" you asked, looking at him getting out the kitchen with a bottle of water in his hand.

"In my room." then what about you? "Do I look like I fit on the couch?" and who's fault was it that he was so buffed?

"Good night.." you looked at him walking towards a door, opening it and leaving as wide as it could.

"This place is pretty bring even at night." you could see that.

Did he left the door open so you won't feel alone? He was surprisingly considerate. Well, you can't say that you're sacred of the dark or of the loneliness the night gives. You were surrounded by people who cared for you, it's not like you could simply just be afraid.

The next day you woke up with your back hurting, and someone at your door. Apparently, Gojo just got you a new bed so you won't be mad at him for what he did. A hard wood bed a lot bigger than the last one, taking more space of your room, but comfortable.

"At least he's good at something." your roommate said after the men that brought the furniture left.

"I'm surprised the bed broke from that much." the furniture was old and it needed to be changed at some points, but he wasn't going to tell you that. He might bring Gojo there more often, and who knows, he might as well refurnish whole house.

"Who knows." he shrugged.

"Are you free later?"

"Why?"

"I was going to buy a few things, just the essentials since we don't really have much." he shouldn't get more involved or he'll wake up with a hit man aiming for his head.

"I'm busy." he noticed the pout on your face right away. "Buy whatever you want." it's not like he haves a saying in this anyway.

"What if you won't like it?" he will like it or he won't be able to see the light of tomorrow.

"I'm fine with whatever." he said, but you still couldn't help but overthink a little.

"So he's giving you an attitude?" Shoko raised an eyebrow, walking around the store with you since you didn't wanted to go alone.

"I wouldn't call it an attitude since that's how he usually is." you said, looking at towels to buy.

"Put a hand here, behind his head, and one under his chin, move them in whatever direction you want and he'll be gone in the blink of an eye." you invited Suguru thinking that he'd be useful with caring your stuff for you. But he wasn't being useful at all.

"I'm not planning on killing anybody. Just needed your opinion on stuff. Is this bland enough or should I look for something even simpler?" you can't fill the house with everything you want, you have to think of other's opinions too.

"I like this one." Geto picked something with the brightest pink ever known to man. "Give this to Toji, I'm sure he'll like it." it hurts you own eyes, how are you supposed to give it to him.

"Go to the car. I'll call you when were done." Shoko tried to get him to leave. This was going nowhere. "If you're not sure about this then move in with me. I'm tired being around these clowns anyway."

"Clowns are the ones who aren't here with us." said Suguru.

"You still haven't left?" they're not going to fight in the middle of the store, are they?

You should have picked someone else for this task. It's impossible to get anything done with them here.

Well, maybe they're right. Think about yourself too. It's hard sharing a house, but that's how it is. You'll learn each other's tastes somewhere in the future, and then you can buy better stuff. You're not here to fill the house anyway, you're here to buy a few cups and towels, maybe get something on the side for yourself but that's pretty much it.

After a lot longer time than you expected, you finally got home.

How could you forget that you're not the only one living here, your friends also think of this place as their own. Of course they had to get a few stuff for themselves, to leave it in here so they could mark their territory.

Shoko reserved the balcony, smoking in there every time she gets the chance, and Suguru even chose his place on the couch, marking it with a heart shaped pillow just to piss the others off.

And the fridge, it wasn't just the things you like, there was all kind of alcohol and sweets bought by Satoru alongside other stuff that everybody enjoyed.

You were a bit concerned at first, but maybe this place wasn't that bad, especially since everybody seems to like it. I mean, you also liked it, but your friends opinions were also important. And your roommate it's somehow so considerate that you feel like you need to be doing more.

He looks and acts like a brute, but he's actually walking on thin ice. All the things he's doing at home are because your friends are making him to, and he's complying because it's not like he haves anything better to do.

Why he's acting like this is a mystery to him too. It's just.. you're you. The way everyone is all over you overwhelm him. He'd be lying if he says he's not curious, but again, he doesn't dare to do anything that out his power.

You do talk, I mean, it would be weird not to, since you live together. But it's always just the usual small talk. A hello here and there, did you eat, how was your day. And you're comfortable with your current relationship.

But soon everything was about to change.

It was a friday night, where you happened to be at home. Because why going out when you can relax in your bed for once?

You went into the kitchen, looking for some snacks, or something to drink during your movie. But while you were looking around you heard the front door, making you turn your head, waiting for who ever came.

It was your roommate, with a plastic bag in his hand, who somehow looked surprised to see you there. The others were all busy with something, so he thought you'd be out.

"Welcome back." you said, going back to your previous activity, back to your hunting.

"Yeah." he came into the kitchen, leaving the bag on the dining table along with his phone, now looking in his pockets for other stuff he's supposed to get out. "Heard Gojo is throwing another party tonight."

"He told me he's going to a party." you said, suddenly remember what the white haired man told you. "But it's always turning into his party, so I guess you're correct." every party that he attends it's suddenly his party, like he organized it.

"Same thing." he took some car keys out his pocket, making you raise an eyebrow. Since when does Toji haves a car?

"Ah." he looked at the metal piece with an expressionless face. "I was supposed to give this to Gojo before I left." no wander the keys looks familiar. "Whatever, he'll find someone to drive him home. No big deal." you let out a laugh, shaking your head and taking a bag of chips in your hands.

"You drink tea?" you asked, looking at the cans of ice tea he got out the bag.

"This is Suguru's." the dark haired man put them in the fridge. "I'm not dying to drink tea." you could recognize that brand anywhere, it was that bitter tea Suguru recently started drinking. Mostly to make Satoru stop drinking his stuff. "I like this instead." your roommate got a beer out. "Tea is for pussies."

"I like tea." you followed him with your eyes as he sat down at the small table that seemed like it was especially made for that kitchen. He didn't said anything for a moment, looking at you and then at the beer in his hand.

"Water, tea, the same thing." he clicked his tongue. "It's better than this." he raised his beer for a moment, shaking his head like he's disappointed with his choice of words.

"I want some too. Beer, I mean." you couldn't really pass his strange attitude as a joke.

"Do whatever you want." he sighed, taking a sip of his drink and trying to forget what he just said.

You sat down next to him, opening the bottle and taking a sip of it. "It taste as strange as I remember."

"You don't have to like it to just do it." he took another sip, turning his head towards the window and looking out of it.

"You're right." it went silent after that. Well, usually your conversations don't last this long. This was just one of those days where you're testing the boundaries, get a new record on the amount of words you said to each other. It's normal to be awkward, so it was alright. It was some improvement, so you can't say that this was a failure.

Suddenly, his phone started ringing, making both of you to turn your heads at it. He took the small metal box in his hand, looking at the screen with an annoyed face and then to respond.

"Yeah." he said nonchalantly, loud music could be heard from the other side of the phone, making your roommate move it away from his ear. "Your keys are with me." you couldn't help but laugh, suddenly remember about who's keys were on the table next to your hand. "No." he said and hanged up.

"Was it Satoru?" you asked, but you already knew the answer from the way he rolled his eyes, his shoulders dropping like some weight was lifted from them.

"Why would he leave his keys with me to begin with." your voice filled the room as you laughed. This is the first time you laughed to anything he said, and it took him by surprise because he wasn't expecting this.

"He does that." it went quiet again. But then, again, it didn't lasted for long. Because somehow, you wanted to talk more. Maybe it was the beer in your hand, or the atmosphere that gave you confidence to talk more. "Actually, I want to ask you something." his eyes was on you. "If you don't mind me asking."

"What is it?" he took a sip of his beer again, letting his back rest against the chair he's on.

"How did you ended friends with the others? I've been thinking about it for a while. It's a really strange group, so I can't help but be curious." you tried to come up with an explanation for your question, but you're not sure if you're sure of your own words.

"I was one time at this party." he said, trying to remember how it went. "Gojo was hosting it at his house, and somehow I got there. Don't really remember if I was trying to break in or was invited." he payed attention to your face, and at how you seemed so focused on him. "I stole a few stuff and I tried to sell it to this girl, at the same party. But turns out that she was doing the same thing as me, so perhaps I did, or perhaps not, threatened her, so she snitched on me."

"What happened after?" he thought you'd say that what he did was wrong, or try to lecture him about it. But no, you actually seemed invested.

"I snitched on her too, obviously." you laughed, again and again tonight. Surprisingly, he was a lot funnier than he looks like. But he too was taken by surprise at how easy going you seemed to be around him.

"I wish I had a cool story like that. I just bumped into them at school and well, I'm here now, so I guess you know what happens after."

"If I bumped into them at school they would beat my ass." you took it as a joke, even if you knew it was true.

"I wouldn't." probably. "But I'm glad nothing happened."

"Yeah, nothing happened." he looked away, avoiding your eyes as he drank more.

"No way?" you gasped. "What happened? Did you got in a fight?" believe it or not, most of the people in your group are here because of a fight, but if you don't know he won't tell you.

"It's getting late." he said, taking your beer away. "I'll take this, you go sleep."

"I want to know what happened next."

"Not now." he's really going to leave you hanging after letting such a bomb on you?

He pushed you to your room, closing the door after and leaving you all alone in there.

Guess you can say that was the start of a great friendship. Because after that night you became so much more open, perhaps a bit too open. But that's just how you guys were. At least in private, when nobody else was there.

When there were more people in there, you go back to your awkward self, keeping some distance so nobody would say a thing. It's not like you're hiding anything, so who were you like this? It was a mystery.

But then again, how you two got close was an even bigger anomaly. And it was about to become even stranger than before.

It was a beautiful morning when you woke up, the sun was up and shining like it was payed to do so. And somehow, it was annoying. The past few days have been so annoying in fact, and you can't really tell anybody about it.

But even so, you went into the living room, looking to see if anybody was there. And of course there was.

Your roommate sitting at the dining table, in the kitchen, scrolling through his phone and looking like he'd rather do something else. You get it, you would rather be productive in that moment, or do something with your life that would get your mind away from whatever you're going through at the moment.

You went into the kitchen, opening the cabinets and looking for any bottle of alcohol brought over by your friends.

"Drinking this early?" he moved his eyes awya from his phone, looking at you looking some a glass to drink from.

"I'm going through an existential crisis." your mind was all over the place, and so was your pussy, but again, you would rather not talking about it.

"It's that bad, huh?" he would make fun of you, but you were clearly having it bad. "You're sure you wanna drink?" he'd rather have you be the sweet thing that moved in with him, drinking wasn't your thing, even if you do it from time to time. "Want me to take care of it?" he thought you're having trouble with someone. I mean, why else would you be like this?

"Huh?" you placed the bottle down. "I heard it hurts? So I'm not really sure about it."

"I mean, depends? How bad is it?" he was going to beat who ever did you wrong.

You stood there for a moment, thinking about what he just said. Does he know? Is it that obviously? "It's ovulation week, you know how it is. Same old, same old." oh, well, he'll sit down on this one, you got it. "How did you know?" you two were on two different lines, completely parallel to one another.

"Ah.. that." there was something changed about you, more than just your grumpy attitude. You had a sweet smell, but he thought it was your perfume or something. "Just knew, I guess." he doesn't know what to tell you, leave it aside.

"I mean.." please brush it aside, he thought you were having problems would a dude, like a boy problem or whatever it's called. He haves no idea what is actually going on. "I never did it before so dunno what to tell you. I'm a bit scared, if I'm being honest." perhaps he needs the alcohol.

He too shouldn't had pushed it, but he's a fucker, and he loves pushing things around, poking and provoking people. And perhaps he wants a few answers out of you.

"Never?" you shook your head, blinking a few times and tilting your head to the side, waiting for what he'll say next. "Then I can't help you." he wasn't going to do that to begin with. "Gotta find someone else." it was obvious he was joking, you knew him and his shit ass humor. So why were you looking at him like that? With big eyes, curious, and a bit of mischief in them.

"I wasn't planning on doing anything to begin with." you got him sweating for a moment. He thought you'd ask him to do something. "You did it tho, didn't you?" does he looks like a virgin to you? "Can't I ask a few questions? I'm curious about it."

"Aren't you supposed to ask a girl or something?"

"I like getting informations about it from both sides." you sat down on the other side of the table, opposite of him. "How is it?"

"Same as always?" he haves no idea what to tell you. He should have let you drink some alcohol, because he haves no idea what to tell you. "How is it for you?" this haves to embarrass you, make you all shy and run away.

"Wet." he haves to admit, you keep hitting him when he's least expecting. You should stop playing with him like this. "I'm either like this all day or get triggered easily." triggered? Is that how you wanna call it? "I can't look at anything for too long without feeling a pool in my pants." you sighed.

"You can get someone to help you." you could. But then again, do you want to?

"Dick comes with problems. So I'd rather not." those were some words he never expected to hear from you. But at the same time, it responds to a lot of his questions.

You're always home, avoiding people outside your group of friends, not getting too close or friendly to people. No wander he never heard about you having any dates, like, ever.

"Get care of it yourself." what other options you have? You're giving him that look again, come on, stop playing with him and his feelings. Your eyes, sad, and a bit disappointed. Like you didn't want to hear that, especially from him. But what else do you want him to say? There's a line between joking and getting serious, and you know he'll never cross it. Unless you're clearly asking him for it, because he personally won't do shit. "Have you ever been eaten out?" he realized what he said only after he opened his mouth.

His words hit both of you, like a third person said it, not him. You both looked surprised at each other, now waiting for an explanation.

"I mean." did he really wanted to know, was he actually asking you or was this one of his other plays? In the end, you shook your head, not really knowing what to say. "Did you?" did he now?

"A few times while drunk." you were always all ears when he's telling a story, and you have no idea what it does to him. No one else reacts the way you do, and now he's always left disappointed when he's telling a story and the reactions are mediocre. "I was told I did a pretty good job." but now he's actually trying to figure out, remember, if he actually did a good job or the girls were all dumb from his dick.

"Then you must be good at it?" is that an invitation? Are you trying to provoke him? Are you telling him that you don't believe it and he should show you? Because if you feed his ego a little more he might actually show you.

"Got them screaming my name and shit." he was trying hard, like, so hard to play nonchalantly. But he's really not fine at all inside. You seem to only want answers for your dumb questions, not to actually want to know how he feels.

"I see." was that it?

"It doesn't hurt if it's not sex." now, here's where's when he's pushing the buttons. But he's trying to let you know, if you want it, it doesn't have to be his cock necessarily. It can be other stuff too, like let him have a little taste, show you that he's true to his words and his stories are no joke. He's real, the things he said are real, and he can make you feel something more real than anything you experience.

He can answer your questions, no, show you. You want to know about intimacy, right? He can make you feel it. But that all is going to cost you.

Dick comes with problems, and your not horny enough to beg for those problems yet.

"I know." you said, getting up from the table and going back to your bottle of alcohol. "Sometimes I like pain, you know? It feels good in it's own way." he needs a better answer than that. He won't take some vaguely words as a green light. "Anyway, this is mine now. Hope it will put me out to sleep." you said before going back to your room.

So this was it? You really are going to ask him all that and leave him alone? What is he supposed to do now? He made a fool of himself, you must think that he's some kind of clown. He can't believe he threw himself at what he thought was an opportunity.

But to his surprise, you really treated as a joke. Like you do this all the time, talk, provoke one another, or at least try.

No, it's alright. As long as you're not mad at him everything is fine. Or he thought.

Because the next day you came back to him, asking questions again.

"So like, oral right? How is it?" you might as well ask him to show it to you. You seemed to interested in knowing, but you don't dare to actually practice it. "Does it hurt? I mean, it might not, but still."

"It doesn't." that was reassuring, it lifted something off your chest.

"How long does it last?"

"Depends from person to person, it's like sex. It's different for everybody." for a thug like him, he was surprisingly indulging. Answering your questions, with care, and a calm voice. Like we knew one wrong move and he'll scare you away. "You're really that curious about it?" you nodded. It was normal to be curious of the unknown, no? "Why don't I should you?"

You bite your lip, looking at your hands, playing with your fingers a little and then looking back at him. "Sure."

You ended up on the couch in no time, pants on the floor, and tshirt all the way up, revealing your tiddies to the cool air. His eyes were on your panties, who had a visible wet spot on them.

It was embarrassing, the way he was eyeing you, up and down, looking at everything he wouldn't usually see.

He'll spare you this once, because it was the first time you done this. But he'll also pay extra extra attention to you, just in case if you're planning on asking for more in the future to know who to go to.

Your panties now on the floor alongside your pants, and Toji positioning better between your legs. Placing them over his shoulders so he knows he's secured there, close to your wet dripping pussy.

Call him a bit delusional, or even crazy, but he loved it there. How your juices were all over the place, waiting for him to do something, wanting him to calm the aching between your legs, calling his name. And he won't let you wait.

Dragging you closer to him, he wrapped his hands around your legs, placing soft kisses on your burning skin. And that alone was making you squirm around. But somehow this feels new to him too, because he never fucks around with people like you. So, him being in this position was as foreign as it felt for you.

He's never this attentive, careful with his touches. Caressing your thighs, and softly lapping at your sweet nectar. He's letting you breath, not just fucking your brains out. And it was weirder because this was so out of character. But it didn't matter, at the moment he couldn't care less of how he's acting.

He was circling your clit, licking it and kissing it all over. Looking up at you to see how you're doing, it only make him laugh at your reactions. If you asked him what he'll think of this situation a few weeks ago he'd say it was absurd, but noe he's loving it.

"Don't hide your voice, let me hear it." he placed a kiss on your clit before inserting one of his fingers into you with ease. It was so warm inside, and slippery, he had no other choice but add another finger. This time a little harder but it was alright, because you seem to take him so well.

You really got him overthinking this, and it was annoying because he feels like his confidence is evaporating. You got him sucking on your pearl while slowly curling his fingers inside you, way too slowly because he's afraid he might hurt you. And if he does that, he'll throw himself out the window.

He should laugh at himself, because this was stupid. He should ask you how you're feeling, but he's too prideful after all that talk earlier.

He said he's the best, he promised to give you an unforgeable experience, to make you come back to him. He can't show any signs of weakness. What if you'd think he's less of an man after that?

So, now he's stuck on sucking the life out of you, moving his fingers faster, his touch a lot rougher without even realizing. But you didn't said anything about it, only going with your hands through his hair and tugging at it lightly.

His eyes had something dark in them, like he couldn't even realize what he's doing anymore, lost in his own world as he tried to prove to you he's no pussy. He can make you cum like never before, you'll even beg him for more. So just wait a little longer, he'll show you.

He came back to his senses the moment you said his name, making him freeze for a second as he looked up at you. You're lucky he's not going all the way in today, he would have fucked you up for that look you're giving him. "Too much?" he's indulging today, he haves to remind himself that. He can't let his control slip for even a moment.

"A bit." you had a few tears in your eyes, and all he's wandering is what are you going to do if you're going to take things further? Crying from this much? You won't even be able to cockwarm him.

Believe it or not, he haves full control over himself. He's all about control, he always knows what he wants and what to do. But you, you little unpredictable thing, you make him rethink his life's decisions. Did he actually knew what he wanted? Because now his brain is upsidedown, not being able to think rationally.

Even in moments like these, jumping from bed to bed, he was always the one who decides everything. And yet, right now he's doing everything to your heart's desire.

Is he too rough? Do you want it softer? He'll do it however the fuck you want. Because who is he to begin with when it comes to you?

And instead of making fun of him, or ordering him around, you give him those puppy eyes. Careful with your touch as your hands brush against his skin, making him lean in for more, like he's some kind of pet waiting for his reward.

He's going crazy, he's absolutely going insane.

"That's.." you sighed, not even being able to finish your sentence. But he understood it perfectly. You don't have to tell him anything, he gets it. He'd be too stupid not to.

You want to come? Do it. He'll claim everything all for himself. He'll take it, and he'll even try to pull out more from you if you allow him to.

You let out some soft sounds, moans barely audible, too shy to let anything out loud. But he liked it, even if he was talking about making others scream, he didn't expected that from you. Especially when he's not even trying to.

Right now it was all about seeing how far you can take it. What you'll give him. And about making you trust him more. He won't push you, so give him everything you want.

You're so cute when you cum, and you have no idea. He might seriously be in love right now, and even he doesn't know it.

This haves to be ridiculous, like a thing you'd only see in circus, a type of charade especially made for movies for idiots. He doesn't think he can let you go just yet. He want to see something more, feel more. See something you haven't showed him yet. And the ridiculous part is that even he doesn't know why exactly he's doing this, why he feels like this.

"One more?" he asked, getting up from between your legs, and placing them on either sides of his body. He was waiting for your answer, an affirmation that gives him even more control over what he's about to do next.

"One more?" wasn't once enough? You don't think you ever managed to orgasm this hard in your life. He must be a wizard, because his hands are magical.

"You're still so wet, don't you want more?" well, you did feel like something was missing, but your body feels so heavy. And he already did so much, you feel bad to let him do everything.

"I do, but-" he didn't even let you finish.

"Then do you not trust me?"

"It's not that."

"Did it not feel good?" he leaned down, caging you between him and the couch, his face against yours as he looked down to where your private parts were.

"You did. It's just.. I want to do something for you too." you're just so cute. He was going to bite those cheeks of yours.

"And I want to do you. Let me do it and we'll figure it out after." he was going to sweet talk you until you give him a more acceptable answer.

"Alright." you give up so fast. But you did good, so he might as well give you something to think about.

One of his hands went back between your legs, slowly pushing two fingers inside your warm core, purposely positioning over you in a way that it makes you feel more of him. In a way that would play with your mind that his cock is actually going in, that's he's fucking you in that moment even if he wasn't.

He's playing with you, he's guilty of it. But he realized that if he's not giving you a little push then you'll never do anything on your own. So, he's giving you a little preview, to show you that it's not that different from what he's doing now. Even if it was, how would you know?

"How is it?" he asked, moving some of your hair away from your face.

"It feels different from before." because last time he didn't even tried going all the way in, mostly focusing on the outside, on your clit that seems desperate for his attention.

"Does it hurt?" you shook your head, leaning more into the couch, letting your body weight drop.

You were squirming around a little, feeling s bit too full of him. It was weird, the way you feel like he's deep into your guts, deeper than he actually is.

And he seems to enjoy this, seeing you struggle as you try to adjust to him. He was bigger than anything you took before, and those were only your fingers.

You shouldn't have been curious, because now look at this, you're stuck with this maniac who seems to take pleasure from seeing you struggle.

Then he started to curl his fingers, hitting a place where it got you gasping. Looking at him with a pout on your face, begging him to stop playing around.

You picked the wrong person, you definitely picked the wrong person. Because he was way too happy about this. Curling his fingers, again and again, giving you no time to think as he kept bullying your insides at a constant pace.

Your hands were tugging at his shirt, shaking when his palm started to move right into your clit. He knew what he was doing, and he didn't seemed to stop until he shows you all of his tricks.

"You're squeezing my fingers." he said, feeling the way your insides tightens around him. "You're cumming already? But it's just getting started." he was talking like he didn't enjoyed this.

"It's too much." you sobbed, making him lean more in, his hand moving at a meaner pace. He was trying to snatch that orgasm out of you, pull it like it was his life's mission.

But then again, if you can't handle this much will you ever be able to handle him? "It's alright, I'm here." not him talking like he wasn't the cause of your current state.

He can't get enough of this, he was going to go insane if you let him play with you more.

The way you're shaking, letting out broken cries as you cum around his fingers. Your hands gripping at him, dragging him closer, like you were trying to use him to shield yourself from the world.

One more, he haves to do it one more time. He doesn't know what he'll do if he doesn't do it one more time.

He was licking your tears away, making you sob as he seemed to press his body into yours. He's all yours, at least for the moment. So do whatever you want, eat him alive, rip those clothes off him and comand him as you please, because he's not going anywhere.

"No more." you shook your head, grabbing his arm in yours to stop him from doing anything more. "I can't take another more."

"Alright." he still stayed on top of you, keeping you trapped as he let some of his body weight fall into yours. Taking some time to calm himself, because he also need it.

He can't believe what he just did. If you didn't said anything he would have fucked up millions. This was the first time something like this happened to him, so he doesn't know how to react.

What even is this feeling? It was madness, it was driving him insane and he haves no idea what to do. You smell sweet, tasty, delicious even, and he only wanders how sweeter you can get.

He can't let this go any further. Picking your clothes from the floor, he dressed you up, now slowly guiding you back to your room.

He should have went out today, because he doesn't know if he can recover from this. Stupid him for being curious. And stupid you for falling right into his arms.

What is he going to tell the others? I mean, he won't say shit, but what if you do? He'll take responsibility if you want, even if he haves no actual idea how. But to his surprise, nothing changed.

You laugh at his dumb jokes, you greet him like always. You were clearly still in friendly terms, that same old distance between the two of you was still there. Everything was exactly the same of how it was before. This plus a bit more touches.

Your hands would touch, and it made both of you freeze. Sometimes you'd sit way too close next to each other and when you realize what's happening you both are staring into the void. Your eyes wanders around too, tracing along your bodies and trying to figure out if there's something new that you haven't seen yet.

You try to play it cool around other people, of course. But sometimes you can't help but wander.

To others, you're still awkward, your relationship haven't changed yet. In a matter of fact, it looked more like you're trying to talk and you don't have the courage yet. It was somehow true, but not in the way people would expect.

You both want to talk, but you don't seem to have the words yet.

That of course was until you happened to be home alone one time. Coming back earlier than usually, and having the whole house to yourself.

You never thought you'll see this place empty, without a single soul in there besides you. It was calming. Like you could finally breathe, sit on the couch and enjoy your time in peace. You even managed to take a nap, stretching your arms and legs as you tried to occupie as much space as possible. There was no one there after all, so you had the sofa all for yourself.

Soft light illuminating the room, even the sounds that are coming from outside are relaxing, like everything decided to be in harmony for you to be able to sleep.

You were tired, these days have been so tiring, it was normal to fall into a deep slumber the first chance you got. You were so gone into the dream world that you didn't even heard the front door, or the guy that got inside who was surprisingly quiet.

He didn't even knew you were home to begin with, he thought you'd probably be out, doing whatever you're usually doing. But then he saw you, laying on the couch, drooling as you didn't seemed to care even a little about anything else than to rest.

He was tired too, his body was aching, but he kept lying to himself that he's good. He kept telling himself that he doesn't need to rest, just yet. That he can go a few more days without some good sleep.

"You're back?" your words got him back to reality, he doesn't even remember since when he kept staring at you. You looked so peaceful, sleeping without a worry, and for some reasons he was jealous.

"Yeah." he took a step backwards, not daring to get any closer than that. He was still giving you so much space especially after what happened between you two.

"Are you tired?" you were still half asleep, you had no idea what you were saying. But he looked tired to you, like he needs to rest for a few minutes.

"A little." he couldn't even think of excuses in that moment, this warm atmosphere you created around you was suffocating. It was playing with his mind, making him feel relaxed.

"Why don't you take a nap?" he's a busy man, he doesn't have the time to do that. "Here." you pointed to the little space that was available on the couch. You must still be asleep because he doubts you would say that to him when you're wide awake.

"I'm good." he haves to go out again anyway, so it's not like he haves the time for that.

"Toji." you said his name softly, a hint of amusement in your voice as you looked at him with a smile on your face. Finally looking at him as you're not avoiding eye contact anymore. "Come here." you didn't sounded demanding or asking for it. And for a little he was tempted, like he was going to allow himself to let himself slide again.

"I have to go back in an hour." he actually doesn't even know what time it is. He was trying to give you an opening to back out.

"That's more than enough time." you pat the place next to you. "Come." you lay down, getting yourself comfortable as you moved to make more space for him to fit. You closed your eyes again, falling back asleep with your arms open, like you knew he'd come.

He doesn't really know what got into him for actually accepting your offer. It's just.. you as a whole. You're so welcoming, so warm, and your scent so confusing. He could practically taste you, and it made his head blurry every single time.

He wrapped his hands around you, his face buried in your neck as he fell asleep way too fast that he would like.

It was supposed to be a quick nap, but both of you woke up in the middle of the night, the sun being long gone as the whole room was filled with darkness.

No one said a thing, just staying in place and trying to remember what exactly happened to get in this situation.

Your arm was sore since his head been on it the whole time, and your body was stiff from the way you stayed in a single position, not having enough space to turn around and do something.

"You're awake?" his voice scared you for a moment, but somehow it calmed you knowing that he was the one next to you.

"Yeah." you're thankful that's it's dark at the moment, not being able to see much. "Are you going back to sleep?"

"Probably." no one moved, you were both in the same position as when you woke up.

You couldn't sleep, and neither could he. You were wide awake, your brain working way to hard on this situation and failing to process a single thought.

"You told me to come." he said. "Take a quick nap."

"I did." at least you remember that much. Don't blame him for anything he didn't do. "What time is it?" he doesn't even know at what time he came home.

"Dunno." and he doesn't want to know.

This is playing with both of your heads, all kind of thoughts filling you. Thinking of the possibilities, of what will happen if someone moves at least a little.

Your heart was beating so hard it might jump out your chest, and he seemed to be in the same situation.

"You know, what happened.." he said, clearing his throat. "Before." how could you not remember? Your pussy took you places you wouldn't go on gunpoint. Being horny wasn't for the weak. "Shit happens sometimes." you're aware of it. You know fully well it's on both of you, it's not only his fault of yours alone.

"I know." but you still can't help but feel a bit.. off. How can you put it in better terms? You're thinking about it every time before going to sleep, the feeling of another person on you, not really skin to skin but closer than you ever been to someone else.

"Don't mind it." he can't tell you not to when it can't leave your mind. Now you want more, as scary as it was, you're craving for more.

"Is it usually like this?" so you weren't going to give him a break after all? He thought he could talk you out, but you're only bringing him problems.

"Like what?" fine, he'll entertain you. He doesn't want to get up to begin with, so ge might as well answer a few more of your questions.

"Awkward? Strange? It left a bitter taste in my mouth and I don't why." he doesn't know why either.

"It's not." at least for him. "I don't feel anything afterwards." he could feel your eyes on him. "Usually." he continued, feeling like he had to explain himself.

"How do you feel now, then?" you're too curious for your own good.

"Like I left something unfinished." so he gets it then. "Empty." it was more like he overdid it, but still not quite enough. "I could have done more."

"More?" you sounded offended. "I thought I saw the light for a moment. What do you mean you could have done more? You're trying to kill me?" he laughed. It's alright if you don't understand.

"I didn't show you how I usually do it, so perhaps that's why I feel like this."

"Why don't you show me then?" you're trying to provoke him? He's trying not to fuck up again like he did last time, not do more.

"Now?" he can't never back down. And who is he to say no to begin with?

"Whenever you want."

"I got the time now." he had no idea what to do. He's usually more than just talk, but he was really not prepared for anything now.

"Now?" you weren't prepared either. "What should I do then?" but you trust him. So you'll follow his lead.

"Hop on." you got on top of him, your ass pressed against his cock who seems to get harder with each second passes. He can't do much, he can't free himself from his pants, he also can't let you bounce on it. He's not even sure if he's allowed to touch you to begin with. "What do you want to do?" he can't believe he's asking you this.

"I don't know." you're not being helpful at all.

"Move a little backwards." his hands were on yours sides, moving your hips on his hard cock. He was half hard, and yet he was so big already.

The room was bright, but not enough. The light from outside wasn't enough to see your expressions clearly. And at the moment that's all he wanted to see. What faces you're making, how did you react when you felt him? Stupid light, can't even help a man out.

"Grind on it." you figured out that much.

Placing your hands on the couch, right next to his body, you positioned better on top of him. You hoped for something more, but that's alright. You're learning something new everyday, and you're happy with it.

"Like this?" you moved your hips back and forth, your clothed pussy right onto him, feeling his cock jump around whenever you let out a whimper.

"Do it how you want it." that's not really what you wanted to hear.

You're unsure of what to do when he'll leaving everything to you. A bit of guidance would have been helpful, or some feedback. But he's not saying anything, only staring at you, like he suddenly got night vision. Or like he's trying to get one.

"How do you feel?" you asked, too lost in your thoughts to even realize how you're feeling.

"It's good, keep going." that lifted something off your chest, now focusing on how you're moving.

You never thought of how it would feel, doing this on another person. One who's surprisingly hardheaded, not saying much and making you overthinking about your actions.

Good thing your body was on autopilot, moving desperately on him and trying to cum. The darkness had it's own benefits, like the fact that he couldn't see you. So coming would be less embarrassing, especially in front of another person.

He wished he could get in your head, or at least have some kind of superpower that allows him to hear people's thoughts. Your soft sounds makes his mouth water, and yet it wasn't enough. He was a visual learner, he needed more than just your voice. And the fact that you seem to get so closer to your release didn't helped him. He needed to see it. "You're close?" he needed a confirmation. He can't make accusations based on his intuition, or better said, delusion.

"Yeah." you said out of breath. He's taking it from here.

With a quick move, now your positions changed. You were the one underneath him, and he was on top of you. Pressing his hard on you, grinding a lot faster than you did, harder. Taking you by surprise from the way everything turned around in just a moment.

You said you're close, didn't you? He's just helping you. After all, how will you come back to ask for more if he's giving you a mediocre orgasm?

His lips on yours, being way too lost in this competition only he's participating in. Kissing you like there's no tomorrow, and giving you once again the illusion of him fucking you.

See? There's nothing scary in it? It's just him and you, and your bodies. He's giving you pleasure you're asking for, the one you kept craving after. And he's going to give it to you every time you come to him.

Your mind went blank, not being able to think of anything as you're shaking in his arms.

He's not stopping moving, letting you ride your high out as he slows down. One of his hands went between your bodies, trying to tug at his pants to free his cock before freezing in place.

He's going insane, he's officially a mad man. He can't believe he really was ready to fuck you right there and then. He said this was about you and yet he couldn't even keep his dick in his pants.

Why are you giving him attention? Why did you chose to fuck around with him out of all people? Was it because he's always around? You're seeing him and something convenient to use when you're feeling horny? Then use him properly, don't talk nicely to him or he'll get the wrong idea.

"You're going to kill me sooner or later." you said, trying to catch your breath. "What about you, don't you need help?" how long until he finally snaps? Who knows.

"I'm alright." if you keep putting your hands on him he will not be able to take it lightly.

"You're sure?" seriously, let him be. He won't die from a boner.

"Yeah." he pushed his body up, giving you space so he won't do something stupid again. "I'm going to take a shower." and take care of the thing between his legs.

"Without me?" you giggled, like you were waiting to say that for a while now.

"Come and you might not be a virgin by the time we get out." oh, that made you shut up. Nope, you're not ready for it yet.

"I was joking." of course you were.

"It will take a while, don't wait for me." he said before finally getting into the bathroom.

You too need to change, your underwear might as well become part of your body from how sticky it was.

The next day? Surprisingly, you were pretty alright. You didn't seemed to walk on shells anymore. But that alone made him feel like it was alright to keep going. Because, believe it or not. Every time you touch he becomes more and more delusional. And perhaps you do so too.

It seems like your still craving for more, purposely sitting next to him, and trying to make as much body contact as possible. It was small touches, but it was still something.

He's down whenever you're down. Just say the word and he's ready to bend you over whenever.

You're shy, like you're waiting to see what he'd say. Does he wants you around, or does he not? You're trying to see what exactly he'll do.

You're giving him looks, biting your lip and fluttering those eyelashes at him like you're all innocent. When in reality you're far from that.

You told him your secrets, asked him embarrassing stuff you never dared saying before. Heck, you even let him do things you didn't even dreamed of doing. What more do you have to do to prove him that you trust him?

"You got pretty big hands." you said the thing. "Mine are so small compared to yours." if this doesn't prove that you want him, then you don't know what. "See?" it's like you're asking him to get in your bed.

But he's not satisfied with just this much. Because he knows you can say the right things when you're desperate enough. So how dare you think he'd take the bait just now?

"You'll grow." he's doing in intentionally. But now he wished he said something else. Your disappointed look got him rethinking his decision. Maybe he shouldn't make you try that hard. It was your first time doing something like this after all, so he should keep it easy.

"I won't grow more than this." well, it was true.

"You're alright the way you are." he tried to fix his mistake. "Or something." he had to play cool, so you won't think he's all soft.

You wanted to say something more until you heard the front door. You didn't expected anyone to come over today.

"Get your ass here already." Sukuna, of course. "Can't believe I came all the way here to pick your dumb face." you looked at your roommate, confused if the pink haired man was talking about you or him. "You're not ready yet?"

"Me?" you asked, not remembering having any plans for today.

"Not you. Him."

"What was today again?" the dark haired man asked, not being able to remember anything. He thought he'd be able to stay home tonight, but apparently that wasn't an option.

"Boy, get moving already."

"Bye." you waved your hand. "I'll miss you." you didn't mean to say that.

"I'll miss you too." Sukuna looked at you, not minding your strange words at all. "You though it was for you?" the tattooed man looked at your roommate, raising an eyebrow and waiting to see if he'd say something. But nothing, the dark haired man didn't said a thing, as he was getting into the entrance hallway.

Well, here you go, I guess. Now you're all alone when you thought you wouldn't.

But to your luck Shoko was calling you, checking to see how you're doing since she haven't been able to come over recently.

"Life have been boring lately." she sighed, walking towards the window and open it so she could smoke.

"That's not good." you couldn't say you relate.

"Anything good on your side." well, now that she said that, you have a few questions for her.

"Actually." should you ask her? What if she tells the others? "I need someone to talk to, like, a girl talk." you got her attention.

"Did something happen?"

"So.. I'm talking to this guy." you paused, waiting for her reaction to know if you should continue or find someone else to talk to.

"Do I know him?" that was a trick question. She knew everybody you talk to, your friends were her friends.

"Maybe. But that's not important. It's just need some advice."

"Go ahead then?" she lit a cigar.

"But like, don't tell anybody." who knows what they're going to do if they hear about you and a guy getting involved.

"I won't." she better.

So, you started telling her what happened to you recently. Letting out a lot of the things that happened, and names, and places. All she needs to know is how you want to move forward but he seems not to.

"He likes you." she said before you could even finish speaking.

"You're sure?" this happens if you let out more than you would like.

"It's either this or he wants to get in your pants." you sighed, not even wanting to this about it.

"I wish." she didn't expect you to say that.

"Oh?" now she needed the actual tea. "What happened?"

"I want to but he keeps holding back." he keeps dodging every time you try to flirt and it was annoying. Maybe he was actually doing all that because he took a pitty on you. Seeing you all sad and depressing.

"If you don't want him give him to me." you doubt she'll say this if she knows who you're actually talking about.

"Anyway, I don't know what to do."

"I still think that he likes you. Why don't you call him?" that wasn't a bad idea at all. Since he's not home you have all the time in the world to pack your stuff and leave in case things go south.

You waited, perhaps a bit too much than you would like. But you did texted him in the end. It was almost midnight when you did.

You're up? if he wasn't, that was your sign that you shouldn't try anything and sit down.

Yea. Wassup. he replied almost instantly, and for a moment Shoko's words were all over the place once again. Does he actually likes you?

Nothing, just wanna hear your voice. you became a bit too open with him than you would like. Who else would you text in the middle of the night that you're missing them if not him?

Want me to call?

Yeah. he didn't anything more than that, because in the next second he called you.

"Can't even go a day without missing me?" unfortunately.

"Wanted to see how you're doing." you don't even know what to say now that you're hearing him. "How are the others?"

"Left a while ago and they didn't even noticed." that sounds like your friends. "I could come home and they won't say shit."

"Everybody been busy lately. Why don't you go and have some fun?" you're supposed to ask him what he thinks about you, not make him hang up. Stupid you.

"Nahh. Don't want to." lucky you. "What are you doing now?"

"Talking to you." that's true. "Don't gave anything better to do."

"Missing me that much, huh?" he tried to joke around, but you weren't really in the mood for it.

"Yeah. Kinda." he get it now. This wasn't time for shits and giggles.

"Want me to do something?" what can he even do from over there? "I wanted to take a look at your pussy before I left, unfortunately didn't got the chance to." can he really say stuff like that? What if somebody hears him?

"Really? Because I remember it different." but you can't back down when he clearly started it.

"Believe it or not, I'm an idiot. I say things without a meaning all the time." he does that a lot. "Wished I could make it up for it now." you were bad at expressing your feelings, but you got more open about it when you're horny.

"I want to hear your voice more." he bet you do.

"Don't rile me up now." he let out a heavy breath. "Can't make it out past those idiots without being caught."

"Where are you now?" right, you had no idea where he even was to begin with.

"Some random room in Gojo's house. Might take home a souvenir while I'm at it." some things never change.

"Can't you come up with an excuse to come back?" you're doing that again, talking in a way that makes him say yes to whatever you're asking.

"Need me that bad?" there was a hint of amusement in his voice, but there was nothing funny the way his pants starts to feel uncomfortable.

"Maybe. Can't say for sure if you're not here." he'd jump out the window to come home right this moment if he wasn't on the eight floor. He shouldn't have left, he could have come up with something the moment those idiots texted him.

"I'll be back tomorrow, probably."

"Probably?" he loved the way you whine and the way you're so needy for him. Ugh, he's not alright at all.

"If I try to leave now they'll tie me up."

"I want to tie you up too." big words for someone who never experienced a dick before.

"Maybe not now. But we can do something different." his mind is working pretty fast.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Turn on the camera, let me see you. Bet your pussy is missing me." that's too much for a beginner like you.

"Can't we talk like this?" you were embarrassed, and man he wished he could see your face.

"Alright then." he'll be back tomorrow anyway, so it didn't matter. "Take your panties off, play with yourself for me. Let me hear it if you won't show me."

"I'm a bit embarrassed." he knows.

"I'll do it too. So you won't be alone." oh, well, that could help. But now you're more interested in hearing him than do something yourself. "Wanna see how hard my cock is? I'll send you a picture."

"I'd rather see it in real life than in a photo." the room was filled with his laugh. You were so bold out of a sudden. Wait until he gets back, you won't be that confident anymore.

"You're sure you won't cry from it? What if it's too big for that little pussy of yours?"

"If it's you, I'll handle it." you could hear him moving around, and for a moment you went quoet trying to understand what he's doing.

"Why did you stop talking? Say something, let me hear your voice." his voice was so low for some reasons, and you could only imagine why.

"What do you want me to say?"

"What are you doing now?"

"Talking to you?" you could hear him clicking his tongue.

"Not that." what else then? "Touch your clit for me, tell me how you feel." oh, he was really going to do it?

"Give me a moment." you won't say no when he also wanted it. You took your pants off with a quick move, alongside your panties, and throwing them somewhere around the room.

"You had all this time to get ready." it's like you're not even listening to him.

"I'm kinda wet." kinda? He wanted to hear about you having a pool in your pants just from thinking about him.

"Kinda isn't enough." you weren't prepared for this. You thought you'd have a little chat, not this. "Get it ready for me."

"You won't be back until tomorrow tho?"

"And? That doesn't mean that I won't be back. Get it ready so you won't say that I bullied you." did you ever said he did? Perhaps you did, but that wasn't important. "Can you push two fingers in? Doubt you can take more."

"I can."

"Yeah? I don't believe in empty words, I want proof." this fucker.

"On a second thought, two it's alright." he laughed again, running his hand down his hard cock and letting out a sigh.

"Then do it. Try to go as deep as possible." you followed his instructions, pushing two fingers inside your wet core and trying to do as he previously did.

You remember you used to do it yourself without a problem, so why were you struggling now? Are your fingers that little? You didn't feel like your even halfway through.

"How are you doing it?" you must be struggling, huh? He can't help but smile at the thought if you not being able to please yourself without his help.

"Something's wrong?" he could only guess.

"I can go all the way in." he bet you don't.

"Aww, poor baby. You must miss me even more now, huh?" he was way too happy at your misfortune.

"I can do it without your help." if he thought he was being funny, then you too can play. You started to let out any kind of sounds you made without any restrain. And all he could do is hear them through a phone.

Wasn't it funny? You're louder alone than you're with him. But don't worry, he'll take revenge on it later. At the moment he'll enjoy your voice since that's the only thing he can have.

He was paying more attention to you than him. To the way your voice would break a little when you do something your body likes it, like when you touch a place that feels too good for it's good. And how you'd move your hand away, afraid of giving into the feeling.

That's why you need him, he doesn't hold back unlike you. With him you can rest assured you'd be crying and shaking, while when you're alone you take so many breaks, not daring to push yourself at all.

He can't believe you avoid touching yourself in the places that you should. At this point this will take forever with you. No wander you're so obsessed with him. He does the things you don't dare to.

"Rub your clit faster, don't stop till I say so." now he was waiting. All ears on the wet sounds your body produce, and your voice.

You're listening to him so good, doing as he said without a single thought behind your head.

He can't get enough of you, and your dumb naive self. What will you even do without him? At this point you might need him more than he needs you, and he'd rather die than admin that.

He's practically chocking his cock as he was listening to you, his phone pressed against his ear as his head went backwards.

He wants to go home, he can't even cum knowing that you're there, in the darkness of the night, waiting for him all sad and alone.

"Just wait until I get home, alright?" that's all he said before hanging up.

You went to sleep, thinking you'd see him tomorrow morning. But he wasn't there, not a few hours later or even at noon.

Did he forgot where his house was, or did he perhaps didn't want to have anything to do with you anymore? You'd rather chose the first option than even think of him not wanting you anymore.

But he came back, late at night when you least expect.

He was breathing heavily, standing in the middle of the living room as he looked at you who was in the kitchen. "Sorry I'm late." that's all he said before getting closer, cupping your face with his hands and kissing you like it's been years since you last seen each other.

"Thought you forgot about me." you got the chance to say when he started to take off your clothes.

"Those fuckers. Had to run away or they would have dragged me to fuck knows where." his lips were back on yours, trying to lead the way to his room while kissing you.

"Your clothes." you said when you got to his bed.

"Fuck it." he took his clothes off so fast you're surprised he didn't ripped them.

He's not going out again any time soon. He's staying home, or at least he'll go wherever you're going. He's not leaving you alone ever again.

He got with his head between your legs, starting to eat you out, to ease you so it won't be hard for any of you later. Two of his fingers quickly slipped in, moving and making sure to stretch you out. But he's too impatient to do something for too long.

"Look at me." he said, getting up to be at the same eye level as you. Holding his cock with a hand and slowly pushing his head past your folds. You'd only get scared if you look down, and he'll try to distract you however he can.

He kept pushing himself in more and more, not stopping until he got all the way in. And staying there until you tell him to do something.

"Does it hurts?" he had to ask, to know if you were alright or if he went like an idiot right ahead.

"A little." you wrapped your legs around him. "But it's alright. You can move." here he was again, kissing you like he was trying to eat you while his hips were moving at a complete another pace.

He was careful, moving in and out slowly, painfully slow and letting you accommodate to him and his zise. But at the same time he tried to get your head away from him, or the fact that yes, indeed he was inside you.

You didn't complained, you seemed to be just as greedy as him, dragging him closer, wrapping your arms around him and securing him in your arms. In case he doesn't want this anymore and decides to leave.

But how can he leave? Especially when he came home all in a hurry, having to run away when no one was looking so he could be there with you. In fact, he's even more paranoid than you. What if you suddenly see him for what he is and leave? What if you don't want him anymore and go for someone else who can treat you better?

Just that thought alone was making him go crazy.

You can't leave him, not when he wasted so much time trying to get close to you. Not when you fit perfectly in his hands. Look, your body likes him, it craves for him. Your pussy is sucking him in and it doesn't seem to want to let go.

"Harder." you said, wanting to feel him even deeper. He needed to touch places no one else did before, to go as deep as he can and to practically become one with you. Because you needed him to. How else can you claim him as yours if not like this?

"No." he said, kissing the side of your face.

"Do it." and then you'll cry that he was rough. He won't give you a reason to look for somebody else. Instead, he'll fuck you nice and slow, show you that there was more to this that you think.

Sneaking a hand down your body, his thumb started circling your clit, his hips slowly hitting yours, filling the room with sounds barely audible.

This was good the way it was. Body against body, intimate touches and you craving for each other. What more do you need? Because he, personally, doesn't need anything more than this.

He wish he could keep you in this moment forever. In an empty house where only the two of you were. Where it was forever night, so no one else would disturb you.

"Stay with me. It's not done yet." his forehead pressed against yours, pushing more of him onto you so he could feel you more. He didn't want to come, and he didn't want to see you do it either. Because it means this moment had to end at some points.

"Don't leave me." silly girl. He won't leave your side even if you kill him.

"I'm here. I won't leave. I'm all yours." he better not be lying, or you won't forgive him.

[sleepyxzn]

that nicotine.

─ -ˋ °. • ⚘ •. ° ˊ- ─

the night smelled like rain. not the heavy, storm-laden kind that left streets drowning in water, but the gentle drizzle that barely touched the ground, leaving the air damp and cool. the balcony was your shared retreat, a small world carved out from the rest of existence—a place where city noise became a distant hum, where time slowed, where you and megumi existed in your own quiet way.

you’d spent the last hour constructing a makeshift tent with blankets and pillows, draping them over the wooden chairs to create a soft, enclosed space. the fairy lights overhead cast a golden glow, flickering like dying stars, and the night wrapped around you both in its embrace.

megumi sat across from you, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he watched you set up. he had that look again—the quiet, enamored stare that he probably didn’t even realize he had. the kind that made your heart ache a little, because love shouldn’t look so reverent, so utterly worshipful. but megumi, for all his stubbornness, had always loved in a way that was soft, weightless, and absolute.

you settled down with your guitar in your lap, your fingers brushing over the familiar strings. a cigarette burned lazily between your fingers, tendrils of smoke curling upward, disappearing into the night.

megumi’s gaze followed the movement, the faintest furrow between his brows. he didn’t like your smoking habit—not because he lectured you about it, but because every time he watched you take a drag, he looked like he wanted to pull it from your lips and replace it with something else.

he didn’t say anything, though. he never did.

instead, he leaned back against the pillows, stretching out his long legs until his knee brushed against yours. he exhaled softly, settling deeper into the warmth of the blankets. “you said you had something to play for me.”

you nodded, adjusting the guitar on your lap. “yeah. it’s called that nicotine.”

he tilted his head slightly, intrigued but waiting.

the first strum broke the silence, a soft, melancholic note that hummed through the air. then your voice followed, weaving through the quiet like a confession meant for him alone.

"i'm overwhelmed, but i'm not giving up now, i don't know what to do right now,

I just wanna be in your arms right now… baby."

megumi’s expression shifted. his lips parted just slightly, breath catching as if the words had reached inside him and curled around something tender.

"i'm breaking down before your eyes, i need you more than you need,

that nicotine, between your teeth, my lips, stuck between your teeth…"

the cigarette in your hand felt heavier, almost ironic in your grasp, but you kept singing. the way he was looking at you—like you were something holy, something sacred—made it impossible to stop.

"that nicotine, between your teeth,

my lips, stuck between your teeth…"

your voice was steady, but something about the way he was watching you made your fingers tremble slightly against the strings. his eyes, dark and endless, held something raw. something that made you feel like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting to fall.

the song ended in a whisper, the final note fading into the night air. smoke curled between you, twisting in the space left by the music. for a moment, silence settled between you both—not uncomfortable, not awkward, but something quieter. something deeper.

you let the guitar rest beside you, shifting forward, until you were close enough that your knees pressed together. megumi hadn’t moved, but his breath had changed—slower, deeper. his hands twitched at his sides, like he was holding himself back from reaching for you.

and then, without a word, he leaned in and rested his forehead against yours.

a breath hitched in your throat.

the world outside blurred, the city, the lights, the endless stretch of night sky—it all faded into nothing. there was only him, the warmth of his skin against yours, the soft exhale that ghosted over your lips.

you closed your eyes, letting the silence wrap around you both.

after a few heartbeats, you broke it.

"did you like it?"

his fingers, hesitant but certain, found their way to your jaw, tilting your chin slightly so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. his voice, when he finally spoke, was barely above a whisper.

"you already know the answer to that."

your lips parted, but before you could say anything, his mouth was on yours.

it wasn’t hurried, wasn’t desperate. it was slow, drawn out—like he was memorizing the shape of you, the way you tasted. like he was answering every unspoken question between you with the warmth of his lips.

the cigarette slipped from your fingers, forgotten.

megumi exhaled against your mouth, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your neck. he kissed you like he was trying to replace every inhale of smoke you had ever taken, like he could breathe you in instead.

and maybe, just maybe, you’d let him.

[t1ts-4-donaldson]

Hii <3 what about camboy!Art realizing he developed feelings for shy!reader because for the first time in his life - he is feeling jealous

Jealous Camboy!Art x Shy!Reader

Art felt pathetic staring at you from across the room hanging around the sleazebag that’s been attached to your hip all night as if he hadn’t peraided a girl or two in front of you before. It’s not in his nature to care at all, his love life was equivalent  to a revolving door. He liked some women more than others, the ones that stuck around were nice but they never mattered. Sometimes he’d feel guilty about it especially when most of them were left crying on his doorstep deplorable explanations thrown their way ‘listen it was just for fun, I don’t see you like that’ rightfully faced with heated curses.

It was his idea to bring you to a house party Patrick was hosting, all of his get-togethers were raunchy he knew that but regretted stepping foot when everyone's eyes landed on you. You didn’t notice it of course, you were so sweet and happy you actually had something to do on a Friday night. Patrick bound over to the both of you draping an arm over your shoulder. “So you’re Art’s pretty girlfriend” He teases, completely wasted. The statement making butterflies rise in your chest, your eyes shimmering at the thought, “Ye-” 

“No” Art interrupts, you flinch at his callousness snapping you out of your giddy daze. Silence surrounds the three of you. Art evading your bewildered stare, “so you guys are fuck buddies?” He asked glancing between the both of you, failing to tamper down how awkward things had become. “Something like that” Art laughs patting Patricks back, his rejection making your insides crawl.

“Well actually” you began to explain yourself but shut up when you met his stony gaze that screamed ‘drop it’

“Have fun guys, alcohol is in the kitchen” he squeezes you tight against his side and pinches the nape of Art’s neck narrowing his eyes, a signal to not be a dick before walking off.

He swore to himself it would never come to this, developing an inkling of feelings towards you was impossible especially with his roster of never ending women that honestly he never fell for but Art Donaldson didn’t get jealous until now. He didn’t notice how bad it was until the asshole kissed you on the cheek but watching you laugh and fawn over him was the final straw. 

“Hey” he grimaced “we’re leaving.” He tugs on your arm before you can protest “but this guy he’s so sweet-” you stammer gazing back at the poor guy left alone in the kitchen. He seethes ‘sweet’ as fucking if “No he’s trying to fuck you and dump you” Art frowns angrily pulling you past the sea of people, what does that loser have that he doesn’t? He makes you happy, you love the cuddles and the orgasms are great Art spirals 

“you’re wrong, he was going to take me on a date, actually to a place I’ve been wanting to visit” He stiffens up, “date?” spinning back in disbelief “what do you mean?” He squints, yanking you close against his chest.

“I-” what does it matter to him, you shake your head confused “we were going to the arcade I’ve been talking to you about, I wanted to go with you but you’re never interested” his face drops at your saddened expression guilt quickly surging through him, the palpable distress made him uncomfortable. “Look I can take you” he shrugs away your complaints. 

“But you don’t mean it.”

“I’m just someone you make porn with.. I like it and it’s nice, it’s not the same.” you stutter and take a minute to think chest bubbling in anger when the wave of realization hits you. Art's the hypocrite using you for sex. He’d invite you over, get you off, post the clips and send you away. You were a whore, it was just glamorous because he had the following, gave you a share of whatever he made and pretended to desire you, if he did it was only for your body. What you gave him.

“you’re making this a big deal” he whined but he paused his patronizing when your eyes began to water, “hey” the man grabs your shoulders moving fallen strands of hair away from your face 

“stop” he winces as you shove him away, body trembling anxiously. This was bigger than just the two of you, everyone knew you were just a body to him, no one saw your face but it was obvious, “fuck you Art.”

a lump in his throat grew at the sight, understanding why you were so upset, you felt used. 

“I care..” he whispers cupping your face wishing he could take back the lies “I swear I do” the look of doubt on your features saying other wise, ”I’ll take you” he caves aware you’re unconvinced “fuck him we can go together” he pleaded 

“Fine.. but you have to actually try.” 

“I will” he promises, enveloping you in a tight hug nuzzling his face against your cheek

[dioslesbianwife]

hiii Can i request a headcanon on the phantom troupe (including hisoka) if you asked them to cuddle :3 pls and thank u (u dont have to do this if u dont want to!)

yess totally! hope you enjoy and thank you for requesting!

Phantom Troupe cuddle HCs

Chrollo

He’d give you a knowing little smile, clearly amused by the request.

If he agrees, he’d pull you into his arms in a way that makes it feel like you belong to him.

He enjoys resting his chin on top of your head or tracing patterns on your back absentmindedly while he reads.

Chrollo doesn’t outright refuse requests like this, but he does make them feel like they’re on his terms.

Hisoka

Hisoka’s reaction? A slow, lazy grin as he hums, “Oh~? Feeling needy, are we?”

He would make the whole thing suggestive before actually settling down, drawing it out just to see you squirm.

But once he’s in the mood, he’s surprisingly comfortable- leaning back and wrapping his arms around you like he’s got all the time in the world.

Loves running his fingers up and down your spine, enjoying any little reactions he can get out of you.

Feitan

Stares at you like you just said the weirdest thing in the world. “…Huh?”

Initially resists because he’s not exactly the cuddly type, but if you’re persistent enough (and he likes you), he’ll begrudgingly let you lean against him.

The kind of person to pretend he’s not cuddling you, even when he very much is.

His body is small but warm, and if you catch him in a tired mood, he won’t push you away.

Machi

She acts indifferent, but she doesn’t reject you. Just gives a small shrug and says, “Do whatever you want.”

If she’s busy, she’ll let you lay on her lap while she works on something with her threads.

Machi is naturally warm, so she’s very comfortable to cuddle with, even if she pretends not to care.

Will absentmindedly run her fingers through your hair if you fall asleep on her.

Shalnark

“Oh? You wanna cuddle? Sure!”

Out of everyone, he’s probably the most relaxed and open about it. He’ll pull you in with a big grin and get comfortable instantly.

He enjoys being the big spoon but doesn’t mind switching if you ask.

Will talk to you casually while you cuddle, completely unfazed by the intimacy of it.

Shizuku

Blinks at you a few times before tilting her head. “…Okay.”

She doesn’t see a reason to deny you, so she just goes along with it.

Completely content lying there in silence with you, not overthinking it.

Might fall asleep mid cuddle without warning, completely relaxed against you.

Franklin

Just gives you a soft smile and opens his arms without question.

Franklin is like a giant, warm pillow, he makes you feel safe just by existing.

You can lay on him, and he won’t budge, just letting you get comfortable however you like.

Probably pats your back occasionally in a slow, comforting rhythm.

Bonolenov

Raises an eyebrow at the request but ultimately shrugs and obliges.

Surprisingly chill about it, though he prefers looser cuddles rather than anything tight or restricting.

Hums quietly while holding you- his body has a natural rhythm to it, like a heartbeat.

You can feel the vibrations from his body, it’s oddly soothing.

Kortopi

Blinks at you like a confused cat. “Cuddle?”

He’s not opposed to it, but he’s kind of awkward about it at first.

Will let you lean against him, though, and eventually relaxes into it.

Very still and quiet, but somehow the silence is comfortable.

Phinks

Scoffs and acts like it’s dumb, but his ears turn a little red.

“Tch, fine. But don’t get used to it.”

Despite his gruff attitude, he’s actually really warm and solid- probably one of the best cuddlers.

Ends up holding you way longer than intended but pretends it’s no big deal.

Uvogin

Laughs at you. “What, you scared or something?”

Immediately picks you up like you weigh nothing and pulls you into his lap.

His body heat is ridiculous, and his arms feel unbreakable around you.

The kind of guy who falls asleep instantly while holding you, snoring against your hair.

Pakunoda

She gives you a knowing smirk, clearly finding the request endearing.

Doesn’t hesitate. If she likes you, she’ll pull you close without making a big deal about it.

She has a calm, steady presence that makes cuddling with her feel safe.

Likes to idly run her fingers through your hair or trace slow patterns on your back.

If you ask while she’s deep in thought, she’ll just hum in acknowledgment and let you settle against her without stopping what she’s doing.

[p1astr81]

the cove

In which: you and Oscar start your own restaurant, navigating the troubles of the unknown territory and the relationship between you. (au)

pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader

warnings: references to sex, no actual smut, use of y/n (once), lots of time jumps, bit of angst, fluff, more plot than romance lowkey

wc: 5.1k

an: I just rewatched the bear and can’t stop thinking about it so here I am

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧ * ‧₊˚ ‧

Milk crates were flipped upside down, making use of themselves as chairs for you and Oscar to sit on during your break. It was rare you ever saw a break—let alone a collective one—but it was a Wednesday night and the restaurant was seeing few customers.

“God, I smell like oil.” You grimaced.

Oscar laughed, leaving a beat of silence between you before speaking. “We should start our own place.” He suggested, his voice quiet, fearing your reply.

At first, you laughed. A loud, mocking laugh. But his face told you that he was serious. “Come on, Os. Be serious. Where would we get the money? I mean,” you scoffed, “we can hardly get by living off both of our wages.”

Oscar bit his lip, eyeing his polished black shoes. He knew you wouldn’t like his next suggestion. “You could always ask aunt Audrey.”

It was a known fact that your aunt Audrey was loaded with cash. With no kids, a rich husband, and rich herself, how could she not be? But she always offered you money whenever she got the chance. You declined every time. You weren’t going to be her charity work.

You shook your head. “Im not asking her.” You said with finality.

“Why not?! We could make something—be something!” He tried to bargain.

You got to your feet, walking away from him.

“Just think about it. You and me, a brilliant fucking restaurant that we built.”

Head shaking once more, you turned to face him. “I’ll owe her for the rest of my life. Do you realize that?”

He stuttered for an answer.

“I don’t want that.”

Oscar blinked, nodding. “Yeah. It was just a stupid daydream anyway.” He kicked a pile of trash, threw the door open, and disappeared into the kitchen.

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Oscar had found sleep long ago, peacefully wiped out beside you.

You struggled to join him in the state. His ambitions plagued your mind. You felt like you were disappointing him with your rejection.

You turned over in bed, facing Oscar now. Even in sleep, you felt guilty about rejecting his proposal. He was so passionate about it.

Being shackled by the debt you’d owe to aunt Audrey was less than a desire for you. The longer you stared at Oscar, though, the less and less you felt bad about it.

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Before work the next day, you’d told Oscar you were going out to run some errands. A bold faced lie.

Aunt Audrey answered the door after a long few seconds. It gave you plenty of time to run if you wanted, but the image of Oscar’s disappointed expression flashed in your brain, rooting you to the ground.

“Oh my gosh! I wasn’t expecting you!” She gushed upon opening the door. Her arms were around you in an instant, pulling you into her mansion of a house.

“Hey aunt Audrey,” you greeted.

She detected the way your voice wavered, and decided to ignore it for now. The both of you ended up in the garden, sat around a fire pit. “How are you, love? Has that Oscar asked you out yet?”

You laughed. “No, we’re just friends.”

She cocked her head, eyeing you with a suspicious expression. “That’s what Nick”—her husband—“said about us, too. No we’re married.”

You shook your head, an awkward laugh. “No it’s not like that, I promise.”

“Alright…” she trailed off, the tone of her voice indicating that she didn’t really believe you.

You shifted in your seat. “Well, he’s actually kind of why I’m here.”

Audrey perked up in her seat, brows raising.

“He brought up yesterday—last night, while we were on our break, actually—that, uhm…” you fiddled with your hands in your lap. “well he thinks that we should start our own restaurant.”

“Oh that’s exciting!”

You forced a laugh. “Yeah uhm but, well, neither of us have the funds and I hate to ask you but uhm…” you shifted in your seat once more. “Would you be interested in helping… financially? Uhm, we’ll pay you back in full, along with whatever interest you want to add on, and uh, we can give you some of the profit. Twenty five percent, maybe?”

Audrey smiled. “Of course I’ll help you out! Oh, this is so exciting, I’m so happy you decided to ask me!” She beamed, jumping up to hug you.

“Thank you.” You smiled, though it pained you.

She took up her seat again. “So how much are you thinking? Just so I can make sure I don’t buy too many bags.” It was meant to be a joke, but it made you feel more guilty.

“Well, we’ll need to buy a place first, then all the utilities and equipment and the stuff for the dining room and…” you didn’t realize just how much you’d need from her until now. “You know what, forget about it.” You waived a hand through the air. She frowned “it’s a stupid day dream. Not really realistic now that I’m thinking about it.”

You went to leave, but your aunt grasped hold of your hand. “Hon, I have so much money that’s just sitting around. Please I want you to use it.”

She directed you back to your seat. “It’ll probably be close to a million.”

All she did was nod. “As long as I get to be involved, you can have as much as you want.”

A smile was forced on your face. “Okay. I’ll get someone to write up a contract. Just let me know how much interest you want to put on it, and does 25 percent of the profit sound good?”

She looked at you like you had five heads. “Interest? And a fourth of your profit? Honey, as long as you pay it all back, I’m fine. We don’t need a contract.” She shook her head.

Damn her and her generosity. The guilt weighed heavier on your shoulders with every word she spoke. But who were you to argue with her and risk her withdrawing from the deal.

So you nodded, “okay,” you agreed.

You cant recall a time you ever saw Audrey smile quite so large. “How about some lunch?”

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

That very same night, Oscar and yourself sat around your coffee table—a dining table wasn’t in your budget—eating the left over food that customers didn’t bother to pick up from the restaurant.

Oscar seemed especially down today. You didn’t doubt that it was due to you shutting down his idea the day prior.

You called his name softly and he looked to you with his brown eyes blown wide in interest. “I went to talk to aunt Audrey today.”

He dropped his fork. “What do you mean?” He urged.

“She’s agreed to help us with the restaurant.” You didn’t meet his eyes.

Oscar gave a quiet gasp. “But you said…” he shook his head.

“I know.”

“Well, I mean, are you sure about this?” He was hesitant to ask the question.

You took a shaky deep breath. “Yeah. She agreed to give us as much as we need.”

“This is amazing.” Oscar beamed, rounding the table to hug you.

Your nod put him off. Not quite convinced you were happy about this. “This is amazing, right?” He asked, a nervous laugh.

“Yeah, ‘course.” Your strained smile did little to ease him, but he didn’t push it any further.

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Your free time disappeared, dropping to nothing. The hours not spent at work, we’re spent shopping around for a place that fit both of your visions. Most were either too small or not in an ideal location.

That was, until after a week and a half of searching, you found it.

The realtor stood at the door, allowing Oscar and yourself to enter before her. You stepped in first, glancing around the space, stunned at what your eyes laid on. You gasped, gaze finding Oscar’s after having done a 360 of the space. “Oh, Oscar, it’s perfect.” You smile was infectious.

He hadn’t seen you this happy in months. “Yeah?” He asked, slowly moving to join you at the center of the room.

You nodded profusely. “Yeah.” You confirmed. “How much did you say this one was?” You turned to the realtor.

“200k.” She answered simply. Your smile dropped, and following up quickly by saying, “but we could try and negotiate with the buyer to lower it.”

You nodded slowly.

Oscar didn’t have to ask you to know what you were thinking. The value of aunt Audrey’s money captivated your mind once more, as it had many times since beginning this journey.

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

While the carpenters built a new wall to separate the kitchen from the dining room, you and Oscar got to painting. Most of the walls were coated in a light blueish-white. Except the back wall where the bar would sit against, which was being painted in a deep blue color.

Oscar dipped the paint brush back into the paint. He swiped it along the baseboards, careful to not paint them. The light wooden shade would go well with their plans for the dining room furniture.

The brush was dipped back into the bucket of paint. Too much paint. Oscar tried to shake it off. Good thing you set plastic down to protect the floors. The paint went everywhere, including on your face. A pale blue streak across your cheek.

“Oscar.” You called his name. Your tone questioned his audacity.

He looked up at you in curiosity. He tried, and failed, to hold back his chuckles.

“Oh you think this is funny do you?”

He broke out in uncontrollable laughter.

The pads of your fingers swiped across your cheek, collecting the paint. Your fingertips met his face, painting his face in a smear of the blue-white color.

He was no longer laughing, staring at you with his jaw dropped.

“Not so funny now, huh?” You replied, smug as ever, a smile of vengeance playing on your lips.

Blue paint from the can met Oscar’s finger, a purposeful gesture. The look he gave you was devious.

He stood, drawing closer towards you like a lion hunting down his pray. You held up a hand. “Don’t you dare.” His advances didn’t stop at your warning.

Cautiously, you backed away, careful of the paint cans that littered the floor. “Oscar don’t!” He chuckled, finger missing your face by mere inches. You ran for it, but he was faster.

His unpainted hand wrapped around your arm, pulling you into his chest. You tried to squirm away, but his arm around your waist held you in place. He laughed at your objections while he drew a tiny heart on your cheek. It tickled, drawing a giggle out of you.

With the proximity, you could see every detail of Oscar’s eyes; the streaks of gold that threaded through the brown and green. Mesmerized, lost in the way they shined when the rays of sunlight hit them just right.

He cleared his throat, reluctant to release you from his hold. “We should probably clean up. Gotta be at work in less than an hour.”

You nodded, tucking your hair behind your ears and stepping away.

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

It had been a month since Oscar and yourself began flipping the barren building into your own restaurant. It was coming together. The bar was built, walls put in place. The furnishings were all that was left.

As you were preparing a dish, you overheard two of your coworkers.

“Did you hear about that new place that’s opening soon over on everlake street?”

“Yeah, lucky bastards. Probably rich fucks who couldn’t care less about the food.”

You met Oscar’s eyes across the preparation table. He could tell you were uncomfortable. It wasn’t hard to pick up from the way you shifted on your feet, and the way your eyes flicked around the room.

“I feel like I’m a shit person.” You confessed in a hushed voice later that night, sitting next to him in bed.

Oscar sighed, taking your hand in his and squeezing it. “If this is about what we heard earlier-“

“Not just them.” You interrupted. “But with aunt Audrey, too.” Your fingertips drew shapes on the back of his hand.

“Audrey is so happy for you. Why would she make you feel like a shit person?” Oscar leaned forward, observing your face fully.

You bowed your head. “You know how my parents put me through culinary school?”

Oscar nodded.

“Well, they resented me for it. Told me I was a waste of their hard earned money.” You shook your head, scoffing a laugh. “I don’t want the same to happen with aunt Audrey.”

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

“Hey Aunt Audrey!” You greeted her with a hug.

Another month had passed. The dining room was all put together. Boxes of alcohol sat at the bar. The kitchen was still coming together. The preparation table was really the only thing that was done back there.

“Wow it’s looking fantastic, honey.” She beamed, glancing around the room. It was the first time she came in.

You followed her journey to the kitchen. “You think?” You asked as she pushed open the door.

“Absolutely, love. Best investment ever.”

The sound of Audrey’s voice alerted Oscar, who had been overseeing the installation of the ovens. “Aunt Audrey,” he smiled, greeting her with a hug just as you had. When he pulled away, he went and stood beside you, an arm coming up to rest around your shoulders.

“What are you going to name the place?” She questioned.

You and Oscar exchanged a look. You shrugged. “We’re not sure yet.”

Audrey waved a hand through the air. “No matter. I’m sure whatever it is will be excellent.”

“Hey, there’s a guy out front who needs your signature.” One of the maintenance guys informed.

You nodded and excused yourself from Oscar and Audrey.

Oscar’s eyes lingered on you until you were no longer in his view.

“I’m so happy you guys are doing something good with all of that money. I was worried I would just carry it all to the grave.” Audrey laughed.

Oscar sighed. “Yeah. She feels guilty about borrowing it all.” His gaze drifted to the door you exited from moments ago.

A frown replaced Audrey’s soft smile. “Is that why she was insisting paying me interest? And giving me a fourth of the profit?”

The new information caused Oscar’s eyes to blow wide in shock. “I suppose so, yes.”

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Oscar and yourself put in your two weeks. The restaurant was near done. The only thing left was to get all of your food for a test run with family and close friends.

Well that, and deciding on a name.

“How about we name it something fancy? Y’know maybe it’ll make people want to come in then?” Oscar suggested. You’d been lying side by side on your living room floor for the past hour, throwing name ideas out there.

You hummed, an idea sparking in your brain. “Maybe we name it after aunt Audrey.” You suggested. You twisted your head to face him.

He did the same.

Your faces were so close. Each time one of you exhaled, the other could feel the heat of their breath. You could see every little detail of his face. How deep his dimples were. And that same golden glow of his eyes.

It wasn’t a conscious decision, but Oscar’s eyes had trailed down to your lips. The plush pinkness of them enticed him. It was like a magnet, drawing him closer to you without his knowledge.

He froze when he realized his advancements, and receded back to a safe distance. He gazed at the ceiling once more. “You’re my best friend, you know that?” His quiet words weighed heavy with the burden of his heart.

You laughed. A sweet noise to his ears. Like a liquid sugar. “I don’t think that’s what we were talking about.”

“No, yeah, duh.” Oscar breathed out a laugh. “Naming it after Audrey would be nice.”

The silence stretched, both of your thoughts being the reason for the lack of communication.

Though, your minds were on different topics. Yours—on topic of conversation—was focused on creating a name that would reference your aunt. Audrey’s? No, it doesn’t sound right. Too basic. What about using her last name?

Oscar’s thoughts were far from on topic. Instead of Audrey coursing through his mind, it was you.

“The cove.” You spoke, breaking Oscar from his daydreams.

“Her last name. Audrey Cove. The cove.” You explained.

Oscar smiled and nodded.

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Opening night. The first display of your restaurant, serving your families and close friends.

You stayed in the kitchen, calling plates and managing the rest of the cooks. The best you could find.

Oscar was on the host stand, greeting your families and taking in all the praise for starting his own place. He was the more hospitable one.

The response was overwhelmingly positive from all those who came. You got in your head about it, though, insisting it was only because they were family. They were just being polite.

You didn’t see their faces when they tasted the food, though. Oscar did. He could tell their positive feedback was genuine. After all, visual reactions were always more reliable than verbal ones.

Audrey stayed longer than everyone else, tears welling in her eyes as she congratulated the both of you.

You and Oscar remained long after everyone had left. The dining room was dark. Only half the kitchen lights remained illuminated. You were both sat on the preparation table. Your topic of conversation was dependent on the future of the restaurant.

“So, Audrey told me something.” He began. You raised a brow at him, enticing him to continue. “She said you were pushing for interest on the loan, and that you offered a fourth of the restaurant’s profits.” The information was factual, but he spoke like it was a question.

You hung your head. “Yeah.” You confirmed.

“Why would you do that?” His tone indicated stupidity on your behalf. “We don’t have the funds for that. And even when we get started, we won’t have those funds for at least a year out!” He raised his voice in frustration. He couldn’t wrap his head around why you would want to plunge the both of you into a large gaping hole of debt.

“Don’t yell at me! You know exactly why I did what I did.” You shook your head. “I only went to her for you anyway. Just so I could help you make your stupid dream a reality.” You spit the words out at him, jumping from the counter and storming out to the dining room.

He called after you. You didn’t answer. He followed you out of the kitchen. “Don’t make this my fault. I didn’t force you to go to her.”

“Of course you didn’t! But I did this for you because I figured…” your breaths were erratic. “Y’know I figured…” you shook your head. “Forget it.” You blinked away the tears forming on your waterline.

You tried to leave, but Oscar caught hold of your arm. His grip wasn’t letting up any time soon, keeping you in place. “Figured what?” He asked, tentative and gentle.

Facing the ceiling, you tried to will this situation away, silently praying to the heavens to get you out of his.

Oscar’s hand slid down your arm, holding your hand in his. He gave it a squeeze. “You can tell me anything, you know that.” He paused. “I’m your best friend.”

A shaky breath was sucked into your lungs. “That’s exactly the point.” You confessed in a mere whisper.

“What?” Oscar asked. He heard you, but didn’t understand.

You built up the courage to meet his gaze. “I figured if I did all of this for you, that you would…” you took a deep breath. He was patient. “You would see me as more than a friend.”

The streetlights outside bathed his face in an orange glow, allowing you to see the shift in his expression. Eyebrows lifted, mouth agape, eyes widened. You knew you messed up when he dropped his hand from yours.

He cursed under his breath, taking a step back.

A nasty feeling brewed in your stomach. Bile threatened to inch it’s way up your throat. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” You repeated, shaking your head, trying your best to hold back tears. It’s like you could physically see him slipping through your fingers.

Oscar’s head was in his hands, refusing to meet your eyes. The further he withdrew into the restaurant, the more the orange glow faded from his figure. Like a visual representation of him fading away from you.

“Just forget I said anything, please.” You begged.

He looked at you like you were crazy.

“How long? How long have you felt like that and not told me?” His tone demanded an answer.

You shook your head, trying desperately to recall a time. You couldn’t. “I don’t know. Awhile.”

He cursed again.

“Look, I don’t want to ruin our friendship and everything we’ve built, please just forget about it.” The tears began to roll in silent streams. Your fear of losing him becoming too close to reality.

Oscar didn’t say anything. You were drowning in his silence. “I don’t want to be friends.” He shook his head. His words was the water filling your lungs.

You choked on your sobs. The sound seemed to flip a switch in Oscar. Suddenly, through the blurry tears, you could see him standing right in front of you. “Fuck, don’t cry.” He wiped away your tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He started. “I meant,” he squeezed his eyes shut. “God, I fell for you the first time I laid eyes on you. Stupid cliche, but I never believed in love at first sight until them.” Finally confessing his truth, Oscar felt lighter.

You gasped a laugh.

“I never told you because I couldn’t bare the thought of rejection. Of losing you. It’s driven me crazy for years.” Oscar’s palms were warm against your cheeks.

“Years.” You sighed out.

He nodded, a stupid grin on his face.

Your hands pushed his hair out of his face, settling at the base of his neck.

Oscar went for it, dipping his head to finally feel your plush pink lips against his. And it was as close to heaven on earth as he’d ever get. It was inexplicably wonderful.

Years of built up tension snapped in that moment. You pulled him closer, heavy breaths exchanged through open mouths as the kiss became heated. He backed you up into a table, lifting you up to sit you on the surface.

His hands dug into your thighs while yours dipped underneath his button-up. He sighed into your mouth at the feeling of your fingers tracing the grooves of his toned body.

You pulled back; Oscar’s lips chased yours. “Probably shouldn’t have sex where our customers are going to eat.” You laughed, breathless.

Oscar nodded, chest heaving. “Yeah. Let’s get home.” He grinned.

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Three months after your official opening, you’d wracked in a good amount of customers. The dining room was packed each night. The reviews were excellent.

Oscar burst into the kitchen one night, during rush. You knew it was important. “Jean Flavia is here.” He whispered in your ear.

Jean Flavia. An esteemed critic. In your restaurant. Your breaths came sporadically. Eyes darting around the kitchen. Blinking a million times in a minute.

Oscar placed his hand on the small of your back, rubbing tiny circles there. “It’ll be alright.”

You nodded, though the movement wasn’t done out of a conscious effort. “Okay. Get his order. I’ll cook it personally.” You scribbled his name down on a post it, all caps and a few exclamation points. You placed the little blue paper on one of the tables displayed on your whiteboard with the guidance of Oscar’s finger.

“Sadie,” you called one of your other chefs. She’d just sent out a dish. She was the only one who wasn’t currently occupied.

She was at your side in an instant. “Yes, chef?”

“Take over, will you?” You asked, already drawing away from the stand.

“Yes, chef.”

Oscar came back through the kitchen, making a direct line to you to deliver the order to you. Your heart was beating out of your chest. Oscar could tell. He squeezed your shoulder. “You’re an incredible cook. Just pretend it’s for any old customer.” His encouraging smile settled your nerves a little.

His presence was gone from the kitchen as soon as it came.

You took a deep breath, gathering yourself before you began.

The dish was simple enough. Beef tenderloin, grilled asparagus and roasted potatoes. It wasn’t anything wildly outside your comfort zone.

But as you started on the asparagus, fear of failure crept up on you. If you messed up, it wouldn’t only hurt you, but also Oscar. You didn’t want to hurt Oscar.

The tenderloin was tossed on a skillet beside the asparagus.

“How’s it going?” Oscars voice in your ear startled you.

“Please help me.” You weren’t ashamed to ask. Not when the establishment itself was at risk.

He jumped in as soon as you asked him, taking the reigns on the tenderloin. He was always better at cooking the meats compared to you.

All three components of the dish were completed at the same time. You shooed Oscar back to the floor, leaving you to plate the dish.

It was the most perfect dish you’d ever plated.

You handed it off to one of the waiters, following the young boy out to the floor. You found Oscar quickly, stood by the host stand. You went to join him.

The concern radiated off of you in overwhelming amounts. It was starting to infect Oscar.

His warm hand found the small of your back, thumb brushing in soothing circles.

You tried your best not to look like a stalker, but you couldn’t afford to miss Jean’s reaction. You watched intently as he cut into the beef, and as he brought the fork to his lips.

And after all that, he had no visible reaction. He simply scribbled some words down on a notepad and continued to go about eating his meal.

“What do you think that means?” You asked Oscar, hushed whispers.

“I guess we’ll have to wait to find out.” He sighed.

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

It was before hours, ten in the morning. Oscar was sat in the office when you returned with mail, shouting his name as soon as you set foot in the building.

He greeted you with a small, nervous smile. “Is that it?” He asked, glancing down at the newsletter in your hand. You nodded eagerly. “Well, let’s read it.”

The title of it was put simply. The name of your restaurant.

The Cove

While the name may lead customers to believe this is another bland seafood restaurant, it is much more than that.

The menu features a wide variety of flavors and options—something for everyone.

What is certainly more interesting, though, is the food itself.

I had the pleasure of receiving a meal cooked by the founders themselves, a young y/n l/n and Oscar Piastri, and I must say they have talent in the field.

The tenderloin lived up to its name, tender from the very first bite. The beef was mouthwatering, a perfect blend of seasoning to complement its natural flavors.

The vegetables were just as good. I don’t think I’ve ever had such delectable grilled asparagus and roasted spring potatoes.

Every bite of the meal was as good as it’s predecessors. It never fell flat for me, and I find that very hard to come by.

It would be foolish of me to call the food anything except for excellent. These two young chefs really know the art of the trade.

You gasped upon finishing reading, looking up at Oscar with a glimmer in your eye. “We’re excellent!” You cheered, jumping into his arms. You laughed as he twirled you around.

“I’m gonna bake a cake.” You declared when he put you down. You landed a peck on his lips, and he watched with a smile as you skipped off to the fridge.

While you baked, Oscar stood close, clingy as ever. He always had a hand on you in some way. Whether it was overtop one of yours, on the small of your back, or hugging you from behind. He was simply too happy to distance himself.

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

It’d been a month since the review was published. Reservations were booked out for months. You cried when Oscar told you, too happy to contain it.

You laid in his arms one night, watching ratatouille for the eighteenth time. “I miss cooking.” You confessed. Since the opening of the restaurant, you’d been in a manager position. The last time you cooked a dish was for Flavia.

Oscar’s arms tightened around you. “I’ve been thinking… desserts would be a good addition to the menu.”

Inclining your head to look up at him, Oscar could see the sparkle of passion in your eyes. “Are you saying…?” The smile stretched across your face made the muscles ache. You didn’t care.

“I can’t think of a better baker around.” He replied.

Twisting around him, you straddled his hips, dipping to slot your lips together. Oscar laughed into the kiss.

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Two years since opening.

Aunt Audrey refused to take any more money after you paid a fourth of it back. The only thing she wanted was a guaranteed table whatever night she wanted. Her meals were always on the house.

But you did pay back your parents, matching every dollar they put into culinary school.

You and Oscar moved out of your one bedroom apartment, buying a big three bed, three bath house.

There was a shiny rock on your finger, too. A wedding in the planning.

“What do you think? Dark blue? Or the lighter more sky blue?” Squares of fabric were shuffled around the dining room table. You were trying to decide on a color scheme. What color dresses your bridesmaids would wear, and the color of the groomsmen’s suits or ties.

“Why not both? Maybe the bridesmaids can wear the lighter blue and the groomsmen the darker blue?” Oscar suggested.

You tilted your head, thinking it over. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I like that.” You nodded, beaming up a him.

“Perfect.” Oscar muttered against your lips before planting a small kiss on them.

[oh-no-its-bird]

I FUCKING FORGOT THE NEW ALIEN STAGE CAME OUT TODAY OH GOD OH FUCK I SAW IT COME UP IN RECCOMENDED AND HAD A FULL BODY REACTION TO IT PLEASEPLEAS PELSAE GO WATCH IT IM GOING TO FUCKING CRY IM GOING TO FUCKING THROW UP IM GONNA .

it was so fucking beautiful actually. I did not expect the bright spots of it, though maybe I should have. Vivinos has always been such a master of balancing fluff in a way that makes it hurt. And then the end . just. fuck. fuck. Oh my god. Fuck.

Spoilers below the cut, I am feeling many things and thinking many thoughts, so let's dissect this together:

I was so entranced by the beautiful visuals I straight up forgot to put captions on to get the lyrics for my first watch. But when it opened to Luka smiling so fucking genuinely, I almost gasped

The way he smiles when he first sees her is CRAZY, I am obsessed with it. Only pausing when a literal gun is held to his head, and even then, not for long

And then he grows so much more almost sweet and fond when she so blatantly ignores him. I felt like he was saying, "yeah, that's my Hyuna."

So like. Super strong opening to us seeing Luka killing off what I've seen others claim are his clones, presumably to make sure he can't be easily killed and replaced

I especially like this post by @kitespark talking about this bit and how Luka may have then ended up killing Hyuna's brother bc they looked so similar, and he assumed they were clones

LUKA'S HANDS !!! AS A KID !!! DID NOT HAVE PURPLE FINGERTIPS!!! We also see his hands when he's older, and he also does not have purple fingertips then! Does this mean he got them later in life, after so many experiments? That's what I'm not placing my bets on

The music itself was. Beautiful. As always, obviously, but especially so.

The slow, gentle singing that can be seen as both darkly comforting or sweetly assuring, the almost bell like chimes in the background, I loved it.

When it first shifted to Luka's voice, singing as Hyuna lay on the ground, I just about screamed. Their voices sound so pretty next to each other, I really like hearing them in contrast

Getting to see all these frames of Hyuna just surrounded by people in the resistance was so nice, actually.

I thought it was so well done, how we get to see her gradually get happier, recovering from her past.

Starting with a scene of her alone, drinking, before someone steps in (presumably to bring her comfort in company) before we start to see clips of her, each one with her a little bit happier, and each one with the lighting just a bit brighter, till we finally see her give a fully animated smile, even as we can see the silhouettes of those in the garden inside of her

She learned to smile !! Even through her grief!! She smiled even though she still kept them in her mind and heart!!!

AND THEN LUKA?? HAVING A (WANTED(?)) POSTER??? OF HYUNA ?? IN HIS ROOM??? AND HIM GIVING IT THE WORLDS JERKIEST MOST AWKWARD LITTLE KISS AFTER STARING AT IT FOR AN AWKWARD AMOUNT OF TIME, OH MY HEART !!!

The kiss is so sudden and jerky and awkward and it kind of looks like it hurt, honestly. Like, at first I wondered if it even was a kiss, but idk what else it would even be. Luka misses his girlfriend yall

There's actually so much to dissect of these short frames, tbh. Is this his room, where he is kept on a concerning amount of medical equipment, or is it just a hospital room he's been in long enough to be allowed to put things up on the wall?

And then we get to just. The happiness of the video. Which, by the way, kicked me in the fucking gut and stole all my lunch money. Like, holy shit you guys, what the actual fuck.

There's so much happening here, but in general I've seen two camps:

a) we are seeing glimpses of the actor au, where they are getting ready and into their roles and having silly fluffy fun times

and b, which is what I originally thought) We are seeing them getting ready for their death matches. Preparing costumes for the stage, hoping for the best. And just the lighter times they've gotten to spend together, in the garden

I'd like to believe it's both, tbh. That at first, we're seeing the lighter times they've spent together, getting their costumes ready, singing, running through grass, being kids while they still can.

A few flashes of other people too, in terrible situations but still smiling, showing that there is still joy to be found in this world

And then, a flash of violence-- Mizi, her face splashed with Sua's blood, and the music takes on this crescendo as it shows us this beautiful what if.

Some of the flashes are definitely some sort of modern au, a true what if.

Sua in a school uniform, giggling with a friend on the way to class, Till in art class, Hyunwoo and someone who's presumably his friend riding bikes through a glowing forest, Mizi laughing as she works on something, Hyuna and Luka dancing together on some sort of date (WITH WEDDING RINGS ON !!! WEDDING !! RINGS !!), a phone taking a photo of food better than anything the alien stage contestants have ever gotten to eat before (especially in contrast to the quiet lunch scene only a few images before, which may have been there to contrast it)

Other portions I read as more mis-remembered, 'if only the garden could have been brighter' moments (particularly the one of them cleaning that one aliens teeth, which we saw Till and Mizi terrified of in round 3) but otherwise I think can be seen as just more beautiful moments.

Running around, playing, having fun, laughing

At some point, towards the middle, I had an abstract thought that it was appropriate, to be posted on valentines day. For all that parts of it felt like a love letter to life. Seeing them all so happy, not only with each other but just being. Doing things they loved, being happy, living

I stg, I started tearing up. I love how well animated and bright this section was, you can tell they really said "guys we have to make this shit COUNT" and spared no expense. Everyone say thank you vivinos and qmeng !!

And then, of course, we hard cut back to reality. A quick glimpse of some remembered Luka angst, and we are on stage with Mizi again. Our last glimpse of happiness being Sua's smile.

What the fuck !!!

Ok so just. Everything about the next bit is so good to me.

Luka having eyes for literally nothing and no one other than Hyuna, even as a gun is literally held to his head.

The cutting back and forth between him stumbling blindly her way as an adult and as a child was so good. He has never had eyes for anyone other than her, and it shows

The way Hyuna runs for him, knowing whats about to happen even as Luka remains blind to everything but her, the way she spins him around to take the shot for him in a hug, which, BY THE WAY, THE FACT THAT LUKA WAS REACHING OUT FOR A HUG. MAKES ME INSANE.

LOOK AT HIM !!!! HE WAS REACHING OUT TO HER !!! HE WAS GOING FOR A HUG !!!! HE SAW HER AND RAN AND LITERALLY THREW HIMSELF INTO HER ARMS HE MISSED HER SO MUCH I DONT KNOW HOW TO HANDLE THIS ACTUALLY !!!!

Also its funny that it was the resistance guy who took the shot, I understand his thought process (Luka probably looked like he was going for his boss lmao) but then he ended up fucking shooting Hyuna instead.

I have to wonder if we'll get to see this guys reaction in the next video, I kind of hope we do. I feel like there's a small chance we might, in some like, corner of the screen we see Dewey grabbing him by his collar to shake him angrily or smthn

It's a small thing also, but I like how we also get to see the guy next to Hyuna react to Luka's blatant idiocy. Like, yeah he's being an idiot, and yeah people are around to see it. Idk, it's small but it just makes it all feel more real to me

^ this guy is all of us watching at home as Luka ignores the gun aimed at his head and runs for hyuna lmao

Also, Luka's hands are now colored in as purple when he's a child here, so that may have just been a coloring error earlier. So throw out what I said about his hands not being purple when he was young into the bin, oops!

So then we're back to seeing more flashes of life, and what we are given is Hyuna's grief, and Hyuna's fear.

A man, presumably some resistance member, dying as they cry and watch him pass. And then Hyuna, in the hospital.

The focus on her leg, and then the abrupt cut to what I think must be the moment that she lost it, then again a cut to the round of alien stage she lost (where she was supposed to have died) and another cut to her crying, scared, makes me think we're seeing a sort of rewind of her joining the resistance

Did she lose her leg in her escape from alien stage maybe? Either way, I like this shift from like, we've seen all these good memories of life, and now we're back to the bleak. Hyuna learned to smile, got to heal, but there were still so many dark moments too

Also: I don't know who this guy is, but he's cute and I want him carnally.

AND THEN JUST THE SHIFT FROM CUTE HYUNA AND LUKA TO HER FUCKING BLEEDING OUT IN HIS FUCKING ARMSMSSSSSS IM GONNA BE FUCKING SICK WHAT THE HELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And also Luka's fingers are back to being not purple, so was it a miscolor, or...?

And then. Hyuna's speech. This is one of the very few times we get to hear an alien stage character just,, talk. Off the top of my head, the only time I can remember us getting that is My Clematis, the very first round of alien stage. And that talk was half exposition.

It's so well done, and just. Ag. Ah. A.

I dont even have the words tbh!!!

"I resented you so. I had to keep moving forward in every moment... But you were always my one and only weakness. (choking up) That's why I resented you so. Luka, live with love. Embrace the pain, the frailty, and live and the moments so unbearably shameful. Forgive yourself... Again and again, endlessly. because everything... begins from there.

I DONT EVEN KNOW MAN !!! WHAT THE FUCK !!! WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK !!!!

Hyuna admitting that even as she's always resented Luka, he has always been and always remained her weakness, and that is why she continued to resent him so much

Hyuna urging Luka to love. To forgive himself. To feel.

Luka, who we've always seen as untouchable, a man who knows how to play this game-- who has won it before and now plays with his opponents in order to win it again. Just, him tearing up. His mask cracking in the face of Hyuna's words, of her blood on her face (on his hands)

THE FACT THAT IT IS LITERALLY LUKA'S FAULT SHE'S THERE!!!! THAT SHE'S NOW DYING !!!!

Luka has always been blind to everything but Hyuna, and going with some interpretations of how we've seen him do dumb shit just to see Hyuna's face before (specifically when we saw him injure (potentially kill(??)) Hyuna's little brother, then smile up at Hyuna like he was just waiting for her reaction) it is. So fitting that this is how it ends

With Luka, once again blind to everything but the girl who can make him feel something, managing to kill that girl in his blindness

Fucking rip!!

I AM HUFFING COPIUM LIKE ITS PAINT I REFUSE TO BELIEVE HYUNA IS DEAD PLEASEEEE !! YEHA OK SURE HER LIGHT WENT OUT BUT WE WERENT SHOWN THE BODY IT DOESNT COUNT OK IT DOESNT COUNT SHUT THE FUCK UP

AND MEANWHILE MIZI DIDNT EVEN SEE HYUNA GET SHOT BECAUSE SHE'S STILL SOBBING OVER TILL'S CORPSE IN HER ARMS, FUCK

Anyways. Final thoughts.

This alien stage was. Wonderful. Beautiful. It may be my new favorite.

Every second of it was so well done, and I need to applause Vivinos for once again showing off that she knows how to make all of us cry by drawing her characters happy.

What the fuck, man!!

Anyways, I watched most of this without subtitles (and when I did watch with titles, I kept getting distracted by the pretty visuals and couldn't focus) So, I possibly misread/misunderstood a thing or two.

I'm gonna go watch it like 10 more times with subtitles on this time, then maybe realize smthn and feel regret, but, whatever

Go watch alien stage.

[writingdevil]

Hiiii!!! Your stp writings are so good!!!! I love, love the way you write opportunist and cold!!! I was wondering if you could maybe write about a ship between them hehe 👀

(Thank you! I always wonder if the way the way I write Oppy and Cold is okay, so I'm glad to hear that! They'd be a really interesting ship, so they'll be fun to write for! Enjoy!)

(Is this the first time I need a warning for one of these? Warning-Blood, injury, knife play I guess)

"I win!"

Opportunist laughed in victory, slamming his final card down onto the deck, before his smile fell at the bored expression Cold wore across the table.

He was resting his chin on his palm, fiddling with one card between his fingers, the rest of his deck laying on the table for Opportunist to see, clear as day.

Opportunist chuckled awkwardly, reaching out to take the deck in his hands, shrugging as he went, "Maybe you'll win next round?"

Cold rolled his eyes. "I don't think so."

Opportunist's shoulders slumped at the empty tone of Cold's voice. He had hoped that Cold would enjoy cards, but it clearly wasn't as stimulating to him as it was to Opportunist, who couldn't get enough of any card game.

"You never know," Opportunist encouraged still, "I'm sure there's a card game out there that you won't be able to get enough of."

Cold snorted at his words, flicking the card in his grasp at him. Opportunist barely blinked before he had snatched it into the deck. Cold shoved the rest of his deck towards him as he said, "You said that card games were full of strategy and bluff. I'm afraid I can't see the appeal that you and Skeptic see."

Opportunist waved him away, pretending not to be offended. "Oh come on, it's fun once you get the hang of it. I promise you'll love it."

"Love staring at shapes and numbers while we sit in awkward silence?"

Opportunist looked at him in surprise, before sighing in defeat, beginning to silent shuffle the deck, if only for something for his hands to do.

Opportunist had been determined to get Cold to enjoy playing cards with him-or, well, just to enjoy being around Opportunist.

It seemed like Cold hopped from one bird to another everyday, from causing chaos with Contrarian, to trailing after Hero or Paranoid, to even pestering Smitten and Stubborn. There just appeared to be some sort of activity that Cold enjoyed doing with each flockmate-everyone except Opportunist.

Something about it left a sour taste in his mouth, and he intended to fix that. Opportunist wasn't even sure why he cared so much. Who cares what Cold does in his spare time? What does it matter if Cold didn't give Opportunist the same time he gave others?

Opportunist told himself it wasn't a big deal, but then he saw the way Cold would rather be anywhere else right now, and his chest felt a pang of pain.

He busied himself with shuffling the cards more intensely, trying to convince himself that what Cold thought of him shouldn't matter that much. Cold was reckless and illogical most of the time, who couldn't try and see the bigger picture and possibilities if his life depended on it.

But at the same time-Opportunist couldn't help but admire Cold's unflinching attitude, how nothing seemed to weigh him down, and how he was unapologetic in his stony demeanor, despite the others frustrations with him.

For that, Opportunist was trying his hardest to get closer to Cold, but that was turning out to be a fruitless task.

He didn't tear his gaze away from the cards in his hands as he said, "If this is truly not enjoyable for you, you're welcome to leave," hoping he hid the disappointment in his voice well.

A few seconds passed, but Cold hadn't moved yet, and when Opportunist looked up, he was surprised to see Cold staring at him with narrowed eyes.

Opportunist found himself unable to look away from his steely eyes, until Cold suddenly shot to his feet, barely glancing at Opportunist as he said, "I have an idea," and then walked off.

Opportunist blinked in confusion, trying to wrap his head around what was happening, until Cold returned, one hand behind his back and an intensity in his eyes.

"I propose we add something to make the game more-interesting," Cold suggested, and although Opportunist was slightly nervous, he just showed Cold nothing but enthusiastic interest, resting his head against his palm as he said, "I'm listening."

Cold's eyes flickered with delight as he pulled his hand out-and Opportunist tried to hide his flinch at the sight of a knife in Cold's hand.

Cold swung the knife side to side as he calmly explained, "Every time we play a trick card, the other person has to toss and catch the blade." To demonstrate, Cold effortlessly tossed the knife up into the air, and caught it without looking at it once, and Opportunist found it was an effort to not stare at the action.

"What does the winner get?"

Cold's eyes shone. "To see the other bleed and keep playing."

This was dumb. This was beyond dumb.

But the thought of disappointing Cold further had him smiling and saying, "I'm in."

Cold's mouth quirked into a smile, and then he sat back down, looking more invested than ever, setting the knife down next to them, and Opportunist tried not to stare at it.

Although they all knew that they would probably nevee see the blade again, some of the others still grew antsy around any of their normal knives. Cold was actually forbidden from roaming the kitchen and cooking, or just handling knives in general, and Opportunist was just flat out not allowed in the area.

Still, he was decent with a knife, and if he stayed calmed, then he might not lose all his fingers today.

He swiftly dealt out the cards, and placed the first card down, before checking his own deck. Two sevens and an ace-not bad, but it all depends on how he plays them, and on whatever cards Cold had.

Cold placed a card down, and Opportunist shivered when it was just a normal one.

Opportunist's eyes flicked between his cards and Cold's weirdly focused gaze, and the heat of those eyes had him going, 'Fuck it,' and he placed a seven down with a sharp smile.

Cold didn't appear shocked-but when does he ever- and he didn't break eye contact with Opportunist as he took the blade, and flipped it in the air.

He caught it by the tip of the metal, the handle bouncing up and down, before he unceremoniously dropped it with a clatter.

Opportunist gave him an impressed look. "Well done."

"Not quite," Cold retorted with, and Opportunist was confused until Cold showed him his hand. It was easy to miss, but then Cold stuck his thumb out, and that was when Opportunist saw a small cut on the finger, a small bead of blood dribbling down it.

It was hardly a serious injury, but the sight of the blood sent Opportunist's mind spinning, and he wonder how much pain Cold could actually endure before he couldn't dull it down anymore.

He gave Cold a pout of fake sympathy, and mockingly said in a childish tone, "Aww, do you want me to kiss it better?"

"Keep playing," Cold just instructed, but his voice was a little too rigid and firm in that moment than normal, but Opportunist didn't comment on it.

He placed a normal card down, and it was smooth sailing for the next few minutes, but Opportunist then heard a 'plop', and he looked up, to see that the blood from Cold's thumb was dripping onto the table.

He stared at it. He didn't know why, but he couldn't stop staring at the blood. Maybe it was because he doesn't often see Cold actually bleed, despite his destructive behavior. Did he do this around others? Or was Opportunist just special right now?

The thought was driving him so mad that he jumped in surprise when Cold put a card down and announced, "Ace, change to hearts."

Opportunist's gaze snapped back to the deck, but sure enough, Cold had placed an ace down.

He chuckled, because he wasn't sure what else to do, other than send Cold a confident smile, stretching his arm out as if getting ready for a workout. Cold didn't speak-just looked at him expectedly.

Opportunist felt his face begin to hurt from how hard he was maintaining his smile, but he ignored it as he picked up the knife, staring directly at Cold, just as the other had when it had been his turn.

"Ready?" Cold asked, a hint of a tease in his voice, and it only egged him further on. He took a deep breath, looked Cold right in the eyes, and tossed the knife up into the air.

He told himself to remain calm, because a clear mind was how you survived dicey situations like this-but then his mind betrayed him, and he glanced at Cold's hand again, only to find him squeezing more blood out of his cut, and it dripped down his wrist, right in front of Opportunist, whose face suddenly flushed.

He choked on a gasp, before the knife came back down.

He smelled the metal before he felt the pain.

But when he did feel it, he hissed loudly as the knife landed right on his frozen palm, slicing it open. His body twitched and convulsed with pain, but Opportunist was determined not to panic and look weak, so he forced himself to remain seated, his hand burning as blood began coating his hand.

He tried to give Cold a big smile, but even he knew it wasn't convincing, but still, he tried. He laughed, blinking back tears and trying not to move his hand too much. "Fun! How fun this is!" he said cheerfully, choking on whimpers that threatened to come up his throat.

He gave Cold a wobbly smile, who actually looked a little surprised at him. Opportunist counted that as a win-that he managed to alter Cold's expectations of him.

Cold stared at him for a few seconds, his gaze also lingering on Opportunist's bleeding palm. He actually looked at a loss for words. The heat of his eyes on his palm was almost enough to soothe the searing pain he was in, but then Cold suddenly shot to his feet, his face unbothered but his eyes wild, attention never leaving his bloody hand as he shakily said, "I'll get bandages, then we're finished."

Horror shot through Opportunist, at the thought of Cold walking away, deeming him as nothing more than a scared little birdie who couldn't manage to be interesting for even a few minutes. Opportunist wasn't ready for Cold to discard him like that.

So he ignored the pain shooting up his arm now, and slammed a card down on the deck. "Ace," he declared, smirking up at Cold, whose feathers bristled at the look, "change to spades."

Cold held his gaze for a moment, before excitement flashed in his eyes.

He sat back down and picked up the knife.

[roxxiies]

Hearts, chocolates, and giggles

synpss: mlbb men and woman matches valentine skins with you. gn!reader, fluff, valentine's day (matching couple) skins

ft: gusion, fredrinn, claude, hayabusa, beatrix, ling, moskov, hanzo

Oh, he’d be smug about it, no doubt.

Gusion brushes his fingers along the hem of your neck, making you flush red. “Sweet Valentine,” he chuckles, stealing a glance at his own outfit then back at your eyes, “A couple's look, huh? Don't mind if we do.”

He's immediately on the battlefield, stepping up his game, and earning kills over kills. All at the same time, flawlessly flexing his skin and going full on carry mode just to make sure the matching outfits don't go to waste.

“I bet our combo would be better due to our outfits. Y’up for practice?”

He’d pretend to be less interested, but if you push a little, Fredrinn would shrug and say, "Fine. But don’t expect me to start acting all sweet and romantic..."

If the skin is elegant and stylish, he might actually enjoy it. If it’s too pink or cutesy, expect him to complain nonstop—but still wear it anyway.

If you get attacked in-game, he’d immediately charge in and tank the damage like it’s personal.

He’d flex it in-game but in a way that seems effortless. "Look at us, turning heads already. Try to keep up, will you?"

Matching with Claude makes you think you have your own child. Because if he has matching outfits with you, then Dexter must have one too.

In the battlefield, Claude will be so giddy the whole game, flexing the skin because he's in love with the effortlessly shining outfit. But will often be ruined by a certain monkey when it notices he's hogging up all your attention again.

“Hey—! Dexter, stop that! They're not matching with you, I am!” But either way, you'd be smiling and giggling about their bickering and he'd be happy he made you smile.

Hayabusa would be so awkward about it. Wearing a matching couple skin would destroy his cool image. If you tease him, expect him to stumble over his words like, "I-It’s just a skin, alright?"

The moment you two appear in-game, he’s so focused on proving himself just so no one thinks he’s getting soft. But really? He kind of likes how it makes you both look like a well-made team almost like a couple. It makes him all warm inside that someone is on par with his skills.

If an enemy assassin rival sees it and taunts him? He’s diving straight into battle just to prove he’s still a menacing threat. He did.

Beatrix is a wild card. But someone to match that wildness needs a lot of work.

She'd be disappointed when you stressed that you wanted to play along with her as well but the enemies would just be afraid to approach you in fear of angering that one raging marksman.

The matching outfits seem like a mark of territory. The enemies just knew who not to mess with. But you'd scold her at the end of the game and she'll sulk before reluctantly letting you play normally the next game. She decides to just cheer you instead of camping in someone–

“Great job, sweets!! S’proud of you!!”

Ling would act indifferent at first but deep down, he's so flustered. Like him? And you? Ah, finally.

If the skins are elegant, he might play along. If they are overly romantic, he'd be so grumpy about it—but until he sees how good you look in it, he'd be often distracted during the game. Although he did carry early to mid game but expect him to disappear mid-game out of embarrassment due to those distractions. NWJS

“Sorry, it was so… uh, laggy. Yeah. But you look good in that…”

He's wearing it with zero emotion but actually, Moskov is really enjoying it.

He'd often stare at you from afar and when he was caught, he'd outright deny it, saying, “Just curious about the outfit.” Curious my ass. He's basically watching you like a hawk.

But if someone says anything about it—especially the enemies, they're getting speared immediately.

The moment you suggest matching Valentine’s skins, Hanzo would scoff. “Tch. Sentimental nonsense.”

But if you somehow convince him (or if you wear yours first and guilt-trip him), he’ll put it on begrudgingly. Expect him to act like he doesn’t care but absolutely refuse to take it off once it’s on. HAHA

His demon self would make it worse. Imagine his shadowy Oni teasing him like, “How romantic~” just to mess with him.

If an enemy assassin comments on it, he might go full rage mode out of embarrassment. Secretly, he enjoys how it makes him feel like someone was eager to match with him—but he’ll never admit it.

P.s. sorry guyss, my schedule yesterday was so packed!! Lolli dividers from @/dollywons