#you can spot him in the last screenshot

[of-fear-and-love]

The only good part of Fighter Squadron (1948): the cats

[f1girliefics]

What the Cameras Didn’t See

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: When jealousy blinds Lando and headlines twist the truth, your relationship ends in heartbreak.

You always knew the media could be cruel, but you never expected it to destroy your relationship.

It started with a night out.

Music pulsed through the air, drinks flowed, and laughter came easy in the company of friends who knew every piece of you. You'd grown up surrounded by the LGBTQ+ community, your chosen family.

They were your heart, your home, your people.

That night, you'd hugged Matteo, who was covered in glitter and eyeliner, and wrapped your arm around Eli, who never went anywhere without his boyfriend, Andre.

It was harmless, joyful. Beautiful.

Until the flash of a camera caught the wrong angle.

The headline hit the next morning: Lando Norris’s Girlfriend Seen Cuddling Up to Mystery Men During Club Night Out.

You laughed at first, thinking it was ridiculous. Until you saw Lando.

He didn’t laugh. He didn’t even ask.

"So that’s what you do when I’m gone?" Lando's voice was low, tight, coiled with something ugly.

You blinked, caught off guard. "What are you talking about?"

He threw his phone on the counter. The headline stared up at you.

You looked at it, then at him. "Lando… they’re gay. That’s Matteo. He introduced me to his fiancé last week. Eli and Andre have been together for five years."

"Don’t lie to me."

Your stomach dropped.

"I’m not lying," you whispered. "Why would I lie about something so stupid?"

"Because I was stupid to think you were different."

His words were sharp.

Quick. Hurtful.

You stepped back like he had hit you. "If you’d just listened to me-"

"I saw what I saw."

"No," you said coldly, hurt burning into fury. "You saw what they wanted you to see. And you didn’t trust me enough to ask first."

He didn’t speak. Just stood there, jaw clenched.

You turned, swallowing the tears clawing up your throat. "Then maybe it’s for the best."

You hadn’t spoken since.

Not when he left. Not when he flew to Miami.

The pain was still fresh, but it no longer cut deep.

It dulled into a bitter ache. You knew who you were. You knew your friends and their love.

So when a friend texted you a screenshot of the latest headline, you didn’t expect it to break something inside you.

"Lando Norris’s Ex Spotted at LGBTQ+ Fundraiser Outside Miami Gay Bar - Turns Out, She Was Never Cheating After All."

It was all there: Eli and Andre, smiling for the camera, arms around you. A quote from Matteo, calling you "a sister in the fight."

The truth laid bare, too little too late.

You didn’t expect the knock at your hotel door that night.

Lando stood there, hoodie up, cap low, looking like the ghost of the man you once loved.

"Can I talk to you? Please."

You stared at him for a long moment. Then stepped aside.

He didn’t sit. Just paced. Hands through his hair.

"I was wrong. I was so, so wrong."

You said nothing.

"I saw that article today and I wanted to throw up. Not because of what it said… but because I didn’t believe you."

His voice cracked. "You deserved better than that. Better than me."

You swallowed hard, arms crossed tightly.

"I was scared," he continued. "Scared you didn’t need me the way I needed you. And instead of asking, I just… I hurt you. I betrayed the trust you gave me."

You looked at him then, really looked. And saw the regret, the remorse, the boy beneath the fame, standing on shaky legs.

"I loved you," you said softly.

"I still do."

Tears welled in his eyes. "Please. I want to make this right. I don’t care how long it takes. Just tell me there’s still a chance."

You paused.

Then stepped forward.

"This is the last time I let you break my heart, Lando."

He nodded, lips trembling.

"But yes. There’s still a chance."

When he pulled you into his arms, it was with the reverence of someone who'd nearly lost everything and would never take it for granted again.

[wttcsms]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ you know i got a soft spot for you !!

ᝰ.ᐟ peak romance is when you realize that he's got a soft spot for you. alternatively: a headcanon post about the specific things he only does for you or the specific things you do to him that only you can get away with. ( fem!reader & sfw )

featuring osamu miya, tobio kageyama, kiyoomi sakusa author's notes damn, y'all just let hq win every poll, don't you?? haha jk, im happy to write whatever u guys wanna see. keshi's song has been stuck in my head all day (is this my socal abg transformation?? [guys im 100% viet, im allowed to make that joke]) i definitely still want to make a bllk version + if you guys like this, i'm always open to more characters <3

౨ৎ OSAMU MIYA — gives you the first and last bite of his food why it's special: osamu takes being a foodie to the next level. the man can eat, and he loves to do so. ever since elementary, his classmates and friends learned better than to ask osamu to share any of his snacks. he's not rude about it, per se, but you can tell that he packed his food with the intention of him and only him consuming it. him and atsumu even get into verbal altercations over who ate the last snack in the pantry. osamu just loves food — so it's pretty obvious that he must really love you a lot to always offer you the first bite of a meal at the restaurant he's spent weeks waiting to open.

"and anyway, that's when— hey, what the hell!" bits of rice fly out of atsumu's mouth whenever he watches osamu give you the first serving of grilled meat. you and osamu invited atsumu out to eat, to celebrate him joining the msby black jackals, and because everyone was craving bbq, you all agreed on the same restaurant (for once). osamu is naturally in charge of grilling the meats. what throws his twin off guard, though, is the fact that osamu is serving you first. "what's the matter? and finish chewing before you speak, damn." osamu huffs, before beginning to assemble portions of the side dishes on your plate as well. atsumu looks at his own empty plate before looking at osamu's empty plate. "geez, [name], how'd you do it?" you look up from your food to answer atsumu. "do what?" "this selfish, gluttonous bastard never lets anyone else eat first!" atsumu tells you, and you just laugh as osamu starts swearing at his brother. "well," you tell atsumu brightly, once his argument with osamu is settling down. "osamu's always lets me eat first. he insists, really." osamu has to tell atsumu to shut the hell up and stop whining before he doesn't get any food at all.

౨ৎ TOBIO KAGEYAMA — takes pictures of you why it's special: tobio kageyama's camera roll before you consists of screenshots (some are accidental, such as the ones of his lock screen, or it's usually different athletic gear he wants to check out), photos of maps (because he is directionally challenged everywhere except for the court), and sometimes of virtual tickets (for when he actually does attend an event, usually for sports). tobio kageyama's camera roll after you consists of the same stuff, pretty much... except for the fact that there are now hundreds of photos he takes of you. he's not one to take pictures; he's a bit awkward around a camera, really, but he realizes soon after getting with you that he doesn't mind being in front of a camera as long as you're posing with him. he takes so many candids of you, like when you're washing the dishes or drifting off to sleep on the couch after bingewatching a tv show. if pictures are worth a thousand words, he's said "i love you" over a million times.

"oh my gosh, delete that!" you shriek, trying to make a mad grab for your boyfriend's phone. his reflexes are quicker, though, and he holds it out of your reach. "why would i delete it?" he asks innocently. "you look cute." the photo in question is the one he just took. the two of you ordered ramen for takeout, and yours was made spicier than usual. your lips feel swollen, and they're kind of stained red from the spices used, and the image captures that, but also highlights the tears welling up in the corner of your eyes as you're in the middle of a massive bite of noodles. "i look like i'm the thumbnail for a 'mukbangers who took it too far and died' video!" you wail. "delete it, tobio!" "but you look cute." he stands his ground, pouting a bit. "that's not fair. do not make that face." you groan, turning to look away from your boyfriend. honestly, with a face like that, it's no wonder why you couldn't force him to delete any pics of you. he's just too damn good at whittling away your resolve. "i think i'm gonna make it my lockscreen." he muses.

౨ৎ KIYOOMI SAKUSA — lets you make a mess of his things why it's special: kiyoomi is very particular about his personal belongings. he doesn't let his teammates borrow any of his training equipment. he refuses to wash his jersey with the rest of the team's, and instead, gets it professionally cleaned elsewhere. in the beginning of your relationship, kiyoomi always offered to wash the dishes, purely because he would only trust that it was truly cleaned if he could confirm that they were well scrubbed. the closer you two get, though, the more the boundaries blur. soon, his stuff gets mixed in with yours. you're doing the laundry together. he gives you his pillow when yours gets too warm. there's intimacy in that, even more so when you consider how prickly kiyoomi gets with these things.

"kiyoomi! you're home early!" fuck fuck fuck, is what's going on in your internal dialogue. you're baking a cake for dessert, only the mixer had a mind of its own, and you ended up covered in sugar, spice, and everything nice. which isn't that big of a deal. you already wiped down the counters, mopped the floors, and got started on the dishes. the only issue is that when you're at home, you have a habit of stealing kiyoomi's clothes. right now, you've still got on his sweatshirt. his nice, pristine, fresh from the laundry sweatshirt... that is now covered in nothing but flour and cake mix. you were going to wash it, honest! it's just... cleaning the kitchen took more time than you anticipated, and kiyoomi was supposed to stay at the gym for the whole day. he knows that that sweatshirt is his. you expect your boyfriend's eye to twitch, or for him to frown, or to even complain that you just ruined his very nice and outrageously priced hoodie. instead, he walks over to you, and places a kiss on your forehead. you've got flour all over you, including your hair, and surely he's got some flour on his lips now. he doesn't complain or say anything about the ruined sweatshirt. he just says, "thanks for baking. i'm going to go shower."

[giuliannna]

PICTURE PERFECT

— hamzah makes it known that he’s taken by you ᥫ᭡ requested by this ask

the room is quiet, lit only by the soft glow of his laptop screen, casting shadows across the walls and your sleeping face.

you’re curled against him, your cheek resting upon the soft blue fabric of the crewneck covering his chest. you’re completely enveloped in a deep sleep, your breathing slow and even.

hamzah is halfway propped up against the headboard. his laptop is perched on his thighs, a single airpod placed loosely his ear. he has an editing program opened up, but he hasn’t clicked anything in a while.

because now.. he’s just staring at you.

you look peaceful. way too pretty for it to be fair. the kind of pretty that makes his chest ache a little. your lashes are resting against your cheeks, your lips slightly parted. one of your arms is draped across his torso, neatly manicured nails resting limply just below his collarbone.

his arm is wrapped around you, palm flat on your back beneath the blanket - holding you against him without even realizing it, like second nature.

he glances over to the corner of his screen, spotting the icon for the camera application. without thinking, he opens it up right away, hovering his cursor over the photo button.

click.

the picture is stupidly cute. him, curls a little messy, his expression soft and tired. you, asleep and delicately draped over him. the lighting is bad, the quality is grainy, and still - it’s perfect.

he stares at it for a second. he then picks up his phone and opens instagram, tapping on the ‘edit profile’ button.

change profile picture?

he grins to himself as he selects the photo and saves the new alteration to his account’s appearance.

satisfied, he puts his electronics to the side and focuses in on you. his hand finds your waist under the blanket again, thumb tracing little patterns as he presses a small kiss to your hair.

the next morning, you wake to the sound of birds outside the window and the soft vibration of your phone on the bedside table. you squint, reach for it, and tap on the text notification you received.

the message was from a friend you weren’t very close with, and attached to it - a screenshot of an instagram profile.

hamzah’s profile.

you freeze. you narrow your eyes at your phone.

“lol. the girl in this youtube guy’s pfp looks like you.” the message read.

of course she didn’t know it actually is you - only your closest friends and family knew about your and hamzah’s relationship. it was better that way. easy, peaceful. out of the public eye.

but apparently, hamzah wasn’t being so private about it anymore.

you don’t reply. you close out of the conversation and open instagram instead to check for yourself.

sure enough, there it is. a photo of you and him, plastered on his account for everyone to see. your sleepy face pressed into his chest, his lazy grin. as his literal profile picture.

you turn your head slowly.

hamzah’s still asleep, one arm slung over your waist, mouth parted slightly against the pillow, blissfully unaware. you stare at him, then at your phone again.

you should be mad. or at least fake-annoyed. but all you can do is bite your lip to keep from smiling like an idiot.

as if his unconscious mind felt your heart swell, he groggily pulls you closer in his sleep, holding you just a bit tighter.

you lie there for a minute longer, letting the sun warm your back, letting the moment exist.

eventually, you snuggle closer and nudge his arm as sunlight slips through the blinds, bright beams falling across the bed and his face.

“hamzah,” you mumble, lifting your phone and turning the screen toward him. “what’s this?” you ask teasingly.

he squints, blinking himself awake. your phone is right in front of his face, still displaying his instagram profile. the macbook photo he sneakily took last night - now his profile picture for the world to see.

“oh,” he says, voice scratchy from sleep. his lips tug into a cheeky smile. “you noticed.”

“you didn’t even ask me!”

“you were sleeping. and looking really pretty. so, i just did it anyways. couldn’t disrupt you.”

you stare at him. “hamzah.”

“what?” he laughs breathlessly, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer until your phone slips out of your hand and drops somewhere between your bodies. “i know we’re not public - but just let me have this. please, just this one thing? to let people know?”

you groan, hiding your face in his chest.

he kisses the top of your head. “c’mon, i like showing you off.”

“you’re annoying.”

“just admit we look good together and be done with it,” he teases.

you mumble something into his chest that sounds suspiciously like “we do,” and he just beams, arms tightening around you like he’s never letting go.

“uh-huh. and everyone else will know it now, too.”

xoxo giulia

taglist: @gulicore @thevoicelikesmartydoes @slushedup @arroganceisherfavoritecolor @layzerzlovesu46 @babysitter19 @marixoa @starjely @viennawaiits @a1exaaaa @freakzah444 @anginluv @gabwilliams @sturniyolo @screamertannie @brlwla @yourstrulykiya @thefantastickid @hamzaholic @isathefantastic @divinesturn @forestlv4r @mayapuma20 @ottakugirl @hamzahsbestone @pulcen @rustnroll

[makkir0ll]

being spotted in public by the paparazzi with costar!oikawa while the two of you are getting a coffee on a sunday morning. it drives the fans crazy and the rumors of the two of you bring together just heighten with the way you're wearing his sweatshirt, and his arm is wrapped around your body with his hand settled into the back pocket of your jeans, holding you close to him.

and of course the fans are hyper analyzing the picture taken and now there are screenshots of one particular angle where you can see a dark hickey that you sucked into his skin from last nights activities that's peeking through the collar of his shirt. you're just glad that they can't see the scratches on his back and the bite marks that you also left behind.

the fans go crazy, saying things like "there's no way they aren't dating." and "it's so obvious" as well as the usual "that was supposed to be me."

your pr team is blowing up both of your phones telling you to atleast have some deceny and put some makeup on to cover up the hickey, and to also post on social media that the two of you are dating instead of breaking the internet everytime the two of you are seen in public.

but where's the fun in that?

[honey-tongued-devil]

↠The last drop tour

| Part 1 | | Part 2 | | Part 3 |

This tour is designed to provide those who need it with a complete map of the Last Drop, as well as to help me (and anyone reading my fanfiction, Everytime it Rains) clearly envision the spaces while reading. This tour is incredibly detailed, and I’ll explain both the location and what you’re looking at. Let’s just say I’ll be your personal tour guide! Enjoy!

↠FIRST PART, THE BAR

Let’s start with the entrance! The door is massive, asymmetrical in true Zaun style, made of stained glass and steel. To the right of the door is the Last Drop’s electric meter, while on the left stands the iconic, battered jukebox. In these photos, it looks especially worse for wear because they were taken after the fight between Vi and Sevika.

And we can finally turn around to take in the Last Drop in its entirety! For accuracy, I’ve included both a screenshot from “Jinx Fixes Everything” and an image from Nikolai Lebedev’s ArtStation portfolio.

There are about four fairly large round tables scattered across the central area of the room. The floor is herringbone wood, and the lighting is spread out. While I didn’t take the photos myself, the LED lights are dispersed across the ceiling. On the second floor, you can still spot a yellowish-greenish sign featuring the Last Drop’s symbol, and the “columns” are adorned with blue lights.

If you’re looking for warm lighting, the yellow neon lights and the ones behind the bar are switched on; the cooler lights are positioned along the side walls of the venue.

Before moving on to show you what’s around the main rectangle, I’d like to point out that the staircase to the left of the bar leads to the upper floor. Next to it is a small corridor that takes you to arcade machines and the pool table seen in several scenes.

"What’s on the sides of the rectangle? What do you mean?"

Yeah, I wasn’t sure how else to describe it, but while the public and chaotic section where people dance is the central rectangle, to the right and left of that area are two booths on each side. These booths have fixed tables and heavy curtains that can be closed to ensure maximum privacy.

This is where customers strike deals—we see it in Act 1 when the two Bilgewater pirates threaten Huck. Since the Last Drop came under Silco’s control, the first booth now displays pictures of him (and two other chembarons, though theirs are small and insignificant), commemorating the venue’s inauguration.

So, if you’re looking for privacy, this is the perfect spot.

But follow me—before I take you to Silco’s office, I’ll bring you to another place I’m sure none of you expected to see. Through the door to the right of the bar, there’s a small flat area, perfect for storing spare drinks, followed by a long staircase leading down. But first, we need to grab the key. Silco cared deeply about keeping this place intact, so it’s been locked up the entire time. In the meantime, take a look at the bar!

The key is nailed to one of the planks of the bar—it was necessary to stop here to retrieve it. But let’s not dawdle, down we go!

I know you’d never have guessed, but Silco was an extremely sentimental person. He decided not to touch the little room where Vander and his kids used to live. Instead, he locked it up and let it remain "sacred" in its own way. The room is very small and packed with stuff, so it’s hard to move around. You’ll have to settle for a quick glimpse. Let me jog your memory by reminding you that when Vander talks to Vi and sends Mylo and Claggor out of the room, the staircase Claggor sits on is the same one we just came down.

What do you say—shall we head back up? Taking the staircase on the left side of the bar, we arrive at the upper floor! At first glance, it’s just a mezzanine, as it aligns with the "public" rectangle of the bar below. To the left of the stairs, we have Silco’s office, which I’ll show you in detail another time. Over there, where you now see the barrels, is where, in my story, there’s a door leading to the upstairs area—currently Vander and the kids’ home. That door gets covered during event nights to prevent any troublemakers from wandering into their house. On the right, we have the DJ’s console and more tables for those who’d rather enjoy their drinks in peace than join the dance floor.

The reason I suggest you take a break and grab a drink before entering Silco's office is that there's really a lot to see. Here you’ll find my Masterlist, which includes both Part 1 and Part 2 of the tour.

[hxiiraeth]

❝Fool for you❞ — M!Rover x Reader

(is it criminal to use this specific screenshot of him? probably.)

It was harmless at first, just an ordinary conversation shared between two friends beneath the soft orange glow of the setting sun. The view was spectacular from up the hill, with the two of you lingering a little too long after finishing a job together, neither wanting to break the fragile peace the evening had to offer.

You laughed at something he said, head ducking instinctively as a familiar warmth rose to your cheeks. His voice, steady and low, had a way of curling around you, making the world softer, quieter. You felt a familiar ache settling in your chest, one that you'd been trying to ignore for quite a while now since it's made its first appearance — the first time you'd realized you were falling for the man in front of you. It made you feel foolish, like a lovestruck fool, catching feelings for a man whose gaze could undo you so quickly.

And then.. you felt it. Warm fingertips brushing against your hair, tucking a stray lock behind your ear. His touch lingered, just for a second too long. The pad of his thumb ghosting along your cheekbone, his eyes never leaving yours. That gaze — so gentle and steady — like you were something worth looking at, the only thing worth his gaze in the world.

"Your hair was in your eyes," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper as he pulled his hand away.

You felt it then — the remnants of his touch searing into your skin, the warmth pooling in your stomach as your heart hammered against your ribcage. He offered you a small smile, and you managed a shy, breathless one in return.

When he walked you home and left, you stood at your doorstep for a while, fingers caressing the spot where he'd touched you. The air still seemed thick with him — his scent, his warmth and the echo of his presence were clinging to you like a memory you weren't ready to let go of. And gods, you were feeling like a fool for the way that your heart skipped at every stolen glance, for the way his closeness made your pulse race and how you'd be caught smiling at nothing, just remembering the way he looked at you as if you mattered.

Sleep didn't come easy that night. Woken up by the memories of him, haunted by the ghost of his touch. Every time you close your eyes, you see him and the way his hand holds yours — firm, steady, protective. The way his voice softened when he spoke your name.

You were falling, and you didn't even know when it started. It was too late for you to run away, to back out now. You were a fool for him, hopelessly and helplessly, and you didn't mind one bit. Albeit it being a little overwhelming and scary.

...

Rover wasn't oblivious, no. He's noticed the way your laughter lingered a little longer around him, the way your eyes darted away when he caught you staring, and the way you shivered, not from the cold, but from his touch on your skin.

He wasn't proud of the way he reached out for you without reason — a hand steadying you by your elbow when the ground is uneven, his palm warm against yours as you move through the crowded streets, and tucking a stray strand of hair that got in your eyes (simply to admire you a little longer). He can lie to himself, saying that it was on instinct, a reflex, habit even, but it wasn't. He knew it goes deeper than that.

He saw the way your lashes fluttered, how your cheeks would flush so prettily over something so simple, how your breath would hitch when he gets even a step closer, a touch on your skin.

When he had left you by your doorstep, he couldn't help but turn around to have one last look at you for the night, until he caught you still standing there with your head down, fingers brushing your own cheek as if you were chasing the memory of his touch.

He found himself lying awake at night, tracing the phantom memory of your hand in his, wondering if you could feel it too. And it hit him.

He's watched the way you'd been absentmindedly tucking your hair behind your ear in the same motion he'd used on you before. Seeing the faint gesture made his chest ache in a way that startled him.

And he realized. It's you. It's always been you — the reason his world felt a little less heavy, the reason he felt that restless ache in his chest whenever you looked at him like he'd hung the stars, like you didn't quite know what to do with yourself, like you were feeling something.

He smiled then — soft, pained too as he realized how much of a fool he was becoming.

A fool for the way you made him feel like something gentle in a world that had long since stopped being kind. For every time he made excuses just to be near you, for the way your smile always made his heart stutter and the familiar warmth creeping up his cheeks.

And when your eyes met his across the room with that shy smile of yours like you were afraid of your own heart — he knew. He was already yours.

[shy-writer-999]

Summary: On tonight’s menu is Sanji, pillow humping, instruction, and praise. Enjoy! ~3.2k words.

CW: Afab reader w/gendered pet names (‘pretty girl’), dirty talk, pillow humping, masturbation, praise, instruction, edging, tiny bit of crying, sloppy head and deep throating.

MINORS DNI. NSFW CONTENT.

Sanji will never forget the day he walked in on you humping your pillow. The concentration on your face, your warm cheeks, your ruffled hair—all of it was seared in his brain indefinitely.

That day, you let out a squeak (or was it a screech?) of embarrassment and toppled over, bright red and frozen. He took in the sight with ravenous eyes, saving a mental screenshot. “Fuck. Sorry to barge in, princess. Just wanted to let you know that dinner’s ready.”

He closed the door almost as quickly as he opened it and stalked away to the bathroom. The food could wait for another three minutes. That’s all the time he would need to cum on his fist.

A couple weeks later, he broached the subject.

“I want to see you do it again, my love.” He was initially nervous making a raunchy request like this. He has a general proclivity to making love or letting you use him however you like. But he had been ruminating on this idea for a while and he was insatiable.

“You want me to hump my pillow while you watch?” Puzzled, you weren’t sure you had heard him correctly.

“Mhm. Please? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

“Okay, you can watch.” You smiled and his heart thumped. He was painfully infatuated with you.

Not long thereafter, you hovered over a pillow, poised at the end of your bed. Sanji sat on a chair in front of you. His thighs were spread wide and he had no cigarette—he needed to be as focused as possible.

You looked at him, hesitant and embarrassed. This didn’t need to be awkward, but… he was fully clothed, and you were completely naked. It added to the effect. It’s like you were about to put on a show.

You and Sanji had been seeing each other for a couple months at this point, but it was taking some time to get fully adjusted to Sanji being more than just a crewmate. This added to that feeling of hesitation.

“Don’t be shy, my love. Just do it like you did before.” His voice was soothing and gentle.

“I will but… it’s a little hard to just hump my pillow and get off immediately.”

“Could I talk you through it? Give you instructions?” You weren’t expecting him to say that. Heat creeping up your neck, threatening to take over your face, and you nodded.

“What were you thinking about when I walked in on you last time?”

“You.” You had no idea why you felt so shy and timid right now. Usually, it was you who took the lead in the bedroom. But now you were on full display, vulnerable and on the verge of getting performance anxiety.

“You were thinking about me?” The hint of smugness in his voice accompanied some tenderness as well. “What about me, exactly?”

“That one time when you fucked me really hard a few weeks ago and then came on my face.”

“After you squirted?”

“Mhm.” You nodded again, cheeks smarting with heat.

Another soft smile from the handsome chef. “Do you remember how I started to finger you through your panties first? Think about that and start to move your hips slowly.”

You did as he said, albeit apprehensively. You delicately rolled on the smooth fabric while Sanji continued to jog your memory.

“I ran my fingers up and down, then I rubbed little circles on your clit, right? And you started moaning so sweetly. It felt good, didn’t it?”

“Y-yeah,” you answered and maintained Sanji’s blistering eye contact. He broke it every few seconds to stare down at the place where your flesh moved on the pillow.

“What did I do after that?” He prompted.

“You ate me out.” As you gingerly shifted back and forth, pressure built on your clit. It didn’t feel good yet, but something was certainly building.

Sanji continued. “What was the best part of me eating you out?”

With one particularly well-placed grind on your sensitive spot, your hips bucked.

“The best part was when you fucked me with your tongue… and rubbed my clit with your fingers at the same time.”

“Mmmm.” Sanji paused as he savored the memory. “I remember that. You got worked up so fast, it was cute. Keep moving your hips, okay? Just increase the pace a little for me.”

You did as he said, undulating slightly faster. The friction on your clit was turning into small zaps of electricity.

“Does it feel good yet, baby?” He was laser-focused on you. Your bashfulness had subsided by now as you got distracted with mounting pleasure from your tingling core.

You nodded soundlessly. Faint rustling noises of your skin on the fabric filled in the room, barely audible. Sanji was hard and the tent in his pants was showing, large and impressive.

“Keep going like that, sweetheart. You look so pretty right now.”

You smiled at him in between thrusts and his cock twitched.

He prompted you again. He wanted you to narrate the encounter for him, to relive the sex that you had initially masturbated to when he walked in on you. “What happened next?”

“You put your cock in me—fuck—and told me how good I was being for you.” Your voice strained.

“Did you like it when I said that to you, darling?” Sanji’s tone was warm. He could tell by your facial expression that you were starting to buzz with pleasure and fuck, it got him off.

“Yeah, I did—fuck—Sanji.” Hearing his name tumble from your lips made his cock jumped again. He stared intently at the place where you pressed yourself on the pillow.

“Well, if that’s the case, you’re being so good for me right now. Following my instructions so well. Why don’t you go move a little faster?”

Your breath hitched at his suggestion, and you started to rock your hips faster. Arousal seeped out of you and heat simmered in your stomach.

“Are you getting wet yet, baby?” Sanji’s voice was positively oozing with lust. He crept a hand to his aching erection and started palm it.

“Yes, Sanji.” You answered, breathless, becoming aware of just how wet you were. You were soaking the fabric and it allowed you to hump smoother, with more fluidity and ease.

“Look at me, sweetheart.” When you met his eyes, he grazed his palm harder over his cock and groaned softly. “Fuck, you look so good.”

His praise went straight between your thighs and you whimpered. He had to bite his lip to keep in another groan. He didn’t want to get too riled up yet.

Sanji was determined to talk you through the whole tryst. He noticed how your expression was starting to change. As your groove quickened, he observed that your eyes were getting dazed and glossier, your mouth hung open in concentration, and your cheeks were still pink… it was making him feel feral and rabid.

You brushed your clit at the perfect angle and your hips bucked again. That was his cue. Sanji unzipped his pants and tugged the waistband down along with his underwear. His long cock sprang out, red and inflamed around the head, smeared with precum and twitching. He didn’t touch himself yet, though.

“What else did you like about us having sex?” He asked, trying to keep you as present and cognizant as possible. It was far too early for you to get lost in a haze of pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck, it feels good Sanji. I—I liked when you played with my clit, fuck, and made me squirt. And when you said those things to me.”

He hummed, content with his progress so far. You sure looked like you were enjoying it. Each thrust looked more desperate than the last.

“How do you feel, gorgeous? Are you making a mess of yourself yet?”

Your back arched at one ecstatic roll. “Feels so good Sanji—’m so wet, fuck, feels even better when you watch.”

He groaned at your last words and brought a hand to his hard length. As he dragged pearls of precum down his shaft, his hips jerked upwards. He pulled his shirt up to run a hand over his abs and happy trail as he lazily started to move his fist up and down.

“Press down harder, my love.” His instructions, once followed, elicited a full-fledged moan from your lips. You dug your hips down forcefully. He could see a sizable stain on the fabric any time you pulled your hips back.

“Fuck Sanji, fuck, fuck.” As you keened his name, he tightened his grip around his cock.

“You look so beautiful. Don’t you want to go faster?” He purred and continued to stare at you rhythmically ride the pillow.

You nodded and whimpered. “Wanna go faster.”

“Mmmm. Needy little thing. Lean forward and brace yourself on your forearms. Now hump faster and look at me.”

As you collapsed forward to rest on your forearms, the angle of your eyes upwards and your position in general made you realize how pathetic and horny you must look, like an animal, rutting away for Sanji to instruct.

“Ah—ah fuck, Sanji, fuck ‘m gonna cum soon,” you keened, feverishly grinding down onto the sopping-wet mound. He was stoking his cock faster now, hips pressing up every few seconds to fuck his fist better. When he heard you say you were about to cum, his tone dropped all warmth. He responded immediately.

“Stay still.” He frowned, tone stern and harsh. “Don’t cum yet. We just started. Be patient for me, okay?”

You whined in protest, ceasing movement, while he continued to fuck his fist. Milky precum leaked out of his slit, smudging with each pass of his fingers.

“Tell me what happened after I made you squirt. Walk me through it.” Sanji held your orgasm at bay while he made you recite.

“Y-you kept fucking me.” Now you were frowning, too. You were fully worked up. It wasn’t very nice of him to tease you.

“In what position, dearest?” He loved to hear you get bratty. It made his heart warm and his cock throb.

“Doggy style with your chest pressed on my back…”

“I was humping you like you’re doing to your pillow, right?” Sanji cooed and you nodded, pouting.

The blonde squeezed the base of his cock and held it there for a second while he looked at you—your cheeks were ruddy, you were panting, a faint sheen of sweat glowed on your skin. His heart skipped a beat as he took in the view.

“Then what?” He prodded. “Keep talking, baby. I want to hear you say it.”

You were getting frustrated. You craved friction. You were about to shamelessly start pleading and begging for it. “Sanji,” you whined. “You rubbed my clit again and then you—fuck, Sanji, can I keep going? I need it, please.”

“Finish your sentence, pretty girl.”

“You rubbed my clit again and then you made me cum.” You choked the words out. You were on the verge of crying. You’d never been teased like this before, let alone from Sanji. Your core was pulsing, screaming for attention.

“C’mon, sweetheart. What else? That’s not all that happened.” His tone was one of pity, with traces of playfulness and admiration.

“Sanji, fuck. I gave you head, and you came on my face while you talked down to me. There, that’s all.” You huffed, extremely put out. The agony of being held at bay like this was infuriating.

“Did you like it?”

“Yes, I loved it, Sanji. Now please, please let me keep moving.”

“One more question, darling. What did you like about it?”

Your thighs tensed, readying to keep fucking your pillow at his command. “It—it felt dirty when you talked down to me. Fuck. Felt dirty when you told me what to do.”

Finally. That was the answer that he was looking for. “There you go. Move your hips for me, baby. Back and forth.”

You practically jumped into action, returning to your previous speed rapidly. Every push downwards was greedy and hurried. Sanji stroked his cock faster and precum spilled over his fingers as he praised you—the clacking sounds of his lubricated fist down echoed in the room, along with the muted, lewd sounds falling from your parted lips.

“You’re doing so well for me. Go a little faster.”

The pleasure that was flooding your body in ripples was about to raise to a final crescendo. You moaned his name and rocked erratically over the fabric, chasing the wave of euphoria that beckoned.

“S-sanji, Sanji, fuck ‘m close, so close, fuck, fuck.”

When he responded, his voice was gravelly, sinful and sugar-coated. “You did such a good job being patient, gorgeous. Now cum all over your pillow for me. But look at me when you cum, okay? I want to see it in your eyes.”

You mewled his name as you pushed down harder, humped faster, and clawed fistfuls of the covers below you. Sanji twisted his hand around the head of his cock, hissing in air between his teeth at the sensation, taking in the view.

He couldn’t wait to watch you squirm for him over the mound of fabric, nasty and desperate, all from his instruction. He wanted to cum on your face, mark you as his, use your throat and treat you with love after.

His pace quickened. He needed you to know how beautiful you were and how good you were being for him. “You look so, so hot, fuck. Do you feel good? Tell me, baby.”

“I—fuck—fuck Sanji, feels so good, I’m c-cumming I’m cumming, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

As you finally reached your breaking point, you spasmed and locked eyes with him, per his request. You basically screamed his name, writhing on shaking thighs. The euphoric wave of pleasure made you see stars.

“Just like that. Keep rocking your hips through your orgasm. It’ll feel good.”

You fell forward onto your face with a sob, jerking uncontrollably as last sparks of climax hit you like a train. It was truly the most dramatic, mind-bending orgasm you’d ever experienced. Absolutely crazy considering it was all from humping a pillow while Sanji watched.

You got a few spare seconds of reprieve before you had to get back to work.

“Look up, honey. You’re not done yet.” The chef smiled and stood up, cock erect and dripping. Bending down to lift you by your chin, he pressed his lips on yours, gently exploring your mouth with his tongue as you let out warm puffs of air in his. You tried to catch your breath but having his tongue swirl around yours made it difficult.

When he spoke again, his voice was husky and low. He was using every shred of self-control to get out his next words.

“Milk my cock with your throat now, sweetheart. I wanna cum all over your gorgeous little face again. That sound ok?”

Still in bliss, you nodded and opened your mouth wide. He quickly shoved his shaft so far into your mouth that you gagged on the first pass.

Sanji’s hands ran through your hair and he let out a deep, satisfied groan. “Mmmm. Fuck that’s good, angel.”

He pushed your head down and controlled the depth and speed of his cock as slid it over your tongue. The pillow below you was wet and damp on your still-pulsing core.

“God, your mouth feels good. Slippery and—ah—hot, just like your pussy, so wet, fuck.”

He pressed his tip on the back of your throat, eliciting another gag. Precum trickled out of the corners of your mouth, messy and creamy. The whole bottom half of your face was wet and shiny.

“Do you want my cum, lovely? Want it all over that pretty face of yours? Look at me.”

You craned your neck upwards with trouble and he when you met his eyes, he grunted and shoved his cock deep in your mouth again. You choked on it, letting out a muffled moan, a plead for air that he ignored.

“Fuuuhhhhccckkk. Suck harder, my love.”

Hollowing your cheeks like he told you, Sanji admired how obedient you were being for him, how your lips wrapped around his shaft, the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, and your blown out pupils. He was grunting so loud it could be heard on the other side of the ship.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, fuck, fuck.” His grip on your head tightened. You hummed on his cock one last time, knowing that would push him over the precipice of orgasm. His deep groans turned into whimpers as he bent over, grabbing your head while he grinded his length on your tongue.

“Ahhhhh, th-there you go, fuck you’re so good for me baby, fuck, ‘m cumming.”

Sanji convulsed and shoved his cock in your throat one last time, relishing how you squeezed around his shaft, before he ripped it away from your lips and exploded all over your face.

You caught as much of his sticky cum with your tongue as you could, but rogue stripes graced your cheeks and forehead. There was literally so much cum. The whole time he drained his balls over your face, he groaned the most obscene, filthy noises you’d ever heard.

Standing over you, he panted as his cock dribbled last hot pearls on your tongue. From this angle, with your face covered in his seed and your legs numb, he looked better than usual. He always looked good, but damn, right now he looked good.

You licked your lips, drinking up the slightly salty, mild taste of his orgasm. When he was done stroking himself, Sanji kissed you and petted your hair for a moment before he wiped your face down and slid the pillow out from under you.

Peeling the pillowcase off, he had the gall to suck on the saturated wet spot from your juices. He palmed his cock just a tad, still sensitive from his orgasm, then folded the case and pocketed it. Later, he would inevitably suck on it some more and then wrap it around his hard cock, replaying the evening in his mind.

You couldn’t walk afterwards. Well, you technically could walk, but not well. Your legs were like jello and sore. You didn’t need to walk, though. Sanji carried you around and brought you food anywhere you wanted. He was extremely satisfied with the evening, to say the least.

that’s all for this one~~ i hope you enjoyed it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

here’s my masterlist and here’s my october posting schedule.

i’m posting every day from now until halloween!

finally, trick or treat?

[daechwitatamic]

You Think You Might | csc {teaser}

banner by @itaeewon 

You Think You Might masterpost Seungcheol x fem!reader

angst smut fluff fake dating!au, kind of sort of exes to lovers? Fake exes to lovers? I guess?

NSFW - minors DNI

Summary: Seungcheol agrees to be your fake boyfriend at your sister’s destination wedding, under the condition that it “stays there”. You didn’t expect it to hurt when he holds you to that promise.

WC: around 50k total - five chapters. See the posting schedule here! Teaser wc: 500

Teaser Warnings: none except hoshi is reader's little brother

Series warnings will include language, drinking, smut, angst, fighting/arguments/hurt feelings, some toxicity (but not between reader and seungcheol) - a more specific warning list will go on the official masterpost

A/N: many thank yous! Firstly to @sailorsoons and @eoieopda for beta-ing and putting up with three (???) rewrites and many many screenshots along the way. I will, again, have more thank you's on the official masterpost but i'll keep it short for the teaser!

Teaser:

“Just one final time - you don’t have to deal with breakfast with my mom if you don’t want to. You and I could meet up later.”

Seungcheol tilts his head a little. “I’m here to sell the idea that we’re a serious couple, right?” he asks, unnecessarily. You both know the answer. “It would be weird for you to go to breakfast without your boyfriend.”

“I guess,” you admit.

He pushes himself to standing, slipping his phone into his pocket. “I agreed to do this,” he points out. “I’m here, so let me do it right.”

“Okay,” you say quietly. “Just… I appreciate you. And I know some of this won’t be fun for you, and I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, takes one small step closer. “Don’t be. It’s all part of the job, right?”

Something had been simmering in you, unnamed, since you’d kissed last night with sand between your toes and the stars’ reflections on ocean waves. At these words from Seungcheol, you feel it jerk to a halt behind your navel.

He’s right. You’d agreed, explicitly, on what this would be. You don’t want a mess - neither of you does. You need to be better than this - you need to be able to handle some muscley arms and kissing. 

“Yes,” you say belatedly, when you realize you hadn’t replied. “Yes, part of the job. Okay, well, if you’re ready… we can walk down?”

“I’m ready,” he says.

You check your hair and makeup in the mirror as you pass and head for the elevators, your fake boyfriend trailing just a step behind you.

“That dress is nice,” he tells you in the elevator, his voice innocent and even. You flush anyway, murmuring a thank you.

You spot your family right away when you pause at the dining hall’s entrance. They’re seated near a large window overlooking the beach. Behind them, the sun streams down, bright and unrelenting. Your stomach clenches when you see your mother’s profile, but loosens when you hear Soonyoung laughing.

You reach behind you blindly, fumbling for your fake boyfriend’s hand. He slips his fingers between yours and gives your hand a squeeze.

“Ready, babe?” he asks, one side of his mouth twitching, an eyebrow raised playfully.

Whatever shut down inside you when you were upstairs gives a tiny sign of life at the endearment.

“I am if you are,” you say, and then lead him through the dining hall, weaving around other tables until you reach your own.

Your mother has risen to hug you, so you drop Seungcheol’s hand to return it.

“Um,” you say, stepping back when she releases you, “Mom, this is my boyfriend, Seungcheol.”

Her face tightens, but she covers it with a quick smile, reaching out a hand to shake Seungcheol’s. “Nice to meet you, boyfriend Seungcheol,” she says, voice dripping with sarcasm. She doesn’t even try to make it subtle. Then, she turns back to your little brother, who is still seated - eternally unbothered. “Did you know your sister was dating someone?”

once the betas are done I'll make a masterpost with a concrete posting schedule for the 5 chapters! i imagine that will be sometime over the next few days barring any unexpected events!

masterpost here!

i've been working on this for over a year and i am soo excited to finally post!! i hope you love it <3

[greensagephase]

"Made by Spider-Man himself"

Pairings: Spider-Man!Miguel O'Hara x Female!Reader Summary: After failing to find spider webs for Halloween decorations at the store, your husband surprises you. Word Count: 2.4k Warnings: fluff; established relationship, marriage; Spanish spoken, but translations are provided within text; suggestive comments, so MDNI; terms of endearment; I think that's all; this was just an idea I had the other day and needed to write it🥺 Masterlist

You sigh heavily next to Miguel, your eyes scanning every single spot on the shelves in front of you, hoping to find at least one box.

Next to you, Miguel glances at you. “Why the heavy sigh, mi vida [my life]? What are we looking for?” he asks, turning to the shelves again.

“Some spider webs for Halloween decoration to put on our front windows, but I’m too late.”

“Too late? Baby, it’s still about two weeks before Halloween.”

“I know, but people start buying as soon as the stores put things out, and the norm now is that stores start putting a holiday’s decorations like two months in advance.”

“Which is insane, by the way,” Miguel murmurs, eyes scanning for spider webs. “Are they normal spider-webs, or…?”

You sigh again and pull out your phone to show him a screenshot from some short video that seems to have come up on your feed. The video displays the LED spider webs, attached to the creator’s windows. He nods, realizing there’s nothing like that on the shelves.

“Maybe we can go to another location?” your husband offers.

You smile softly at him but shake your head. “No, mi corazón [my heart]. It would be pointless. I’m certain we won’t find them anywhere. It’s too late at this point. The video popped up last night on my feed, and again, most stores put everything out two months before the holiday, so… I’m sure every single box has been sold at this point.” You shrug and put your phone away. “Maybe next year I’ll have better luck. Do you want to go somewhere else?” you ask, already deciding that next year will be your best bet.

“No, I don’t need to go anywhere else, mi vida [my life]. I just wanted to come with you,” Miguel says as you both begin to head out of the store. He frowns, not failing to notice your little pout. “Are you sure, preciosa [precious]? We can make the drive to another location. It’s no problem.”

You smile again and take your husband’s hand, which has been brushing against yours this entire time, as you head to your car. “I’m sure, mi corazón [my heart]. Let’s just go home, okay? I’m going to make some delicious, cozy, and warm food for us.”

With a smile, Miguel pulls you closer to his side, still walking. “Alright, preciosa [precious]. Let’s go home,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head before he opens the car door for you, always the gentleman.

A few hours later, you’re on the couch with a blanket over you while re-watching one of your favorite autumn shows in the living room. You glance towards Miguel’s workroom, wondering what he’s working on. Earlier, after having dinner and cleaning the kitchen together, Miguel told you he needed to work on something regarding the Spider Society, so you decided to settle in the living room by yourself.

Fixing your position on the couch while the intro of a new episode starts playing, you hear Miguel’s footsteps, signaling that he’s left his workroom.

“Mi vida [my life]?” Miguel says, his footsteps growing closer.

You lift yourself up, smiling just at the sound of your husband’s voice, thinking that maybe he’ll join you now and you can cuddle.

“Baby,” you start, your eyes landing on him, but freezing when you see what’s on his hands. You stare in awe. “Wait…”

Miguel grins as he walks closer to show you, displaying the item in front of you for a better view. “Are these okay, preciosa [precious]?” Miguel asks, still wondering if the amazing and sweet gesture he’s made for you is ‘okay.’

“Miggy, you made spider webs out of your own for me?” you ask softly, in awe. You look up at him as he gently hands the spider net over to you, your heart filled with so much love for Miguel, your sweet husband.

“Cualquier cosa para ti, preciosa [anything for you, precious]. I know it’s not the sam -” Miguel starts while you accept the spider web and carefully place it on the couch before lunging yourself at him, catching him by complete surprise.

“I love you!” you say, throwing your arms around him. “You’re the sweetest! What did I do to deserve you?” you ask, hugging him tightly.

Despite being caught off guard, Miguel’s arms instantly wrap around your body, pulling you closer. He smiles and lifts you up easily, he’s Spider-Man after all. Smiling, he presses his forehead to yours. “I couldn’t stand seeing mi hermosa esposa being disappointed [my gorgeous wife]. That little pout pulled at my heart strings. It always does,” he whispers, leaning in to nuzzle his nose against yours. “When we were having dinner, I remembered I’m Spider-Man and I build things. So, I figured, why not build some spider webs out of my own for my lovely wife?”

Slipping your fingers into Miguel’s dark locks, you nuzzle your own nose against him. “Eres el esposo mas dulce [you’re the sweetest husband]. So kind and loving to me — so much that you entertain my silly shenanigans,” you whisper.

Miguel hums and lift his face just to press a gentle kiss on your forehead. “It’s not silly shenanigans. You have no idea how much I love seeing you getting excited about decorating our home for the holidays.” Miguel pulls you closer before settling on the couch with you attached to him. He smiles and positions you so you’re sitting on his lap comfortably before cupping your face with his large hand. “For so many years, I went on without celebrating anything. It brings me so much joy to see you excited over the decorations and being able to decorate with you. It was a great joy to make these for you, too,” Miguel gently states, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

“You made more than one?” you whisper.

“I made you a few so we can place them all over the front of the house,” Miguel whispers back with a grin. “And the best part? We don’t need any extension cords or batteries.”

You chuckle and give Miguel a kiss on the lips, gentle and sweet. “Thank you, mi corazón [my heart]. You’re truly the sweetest.”

More than content with your reaction, Miguel grins. “Want to go ahead and put them out? I’ll get the ladder and hang them for you. I’d do it without the ladder, but…”

“We don’t need our neighbors to know they live next to Spider-Man,” you finish with a smile.

“Right. It’s our little secret,” Miguel responds, leaning forward to press another gentle kiss to your lips before the two of you collect all the spider webs Miguel made and head outside.

It doesn’t take long for Miguel to place them around the front of your shared home with your assistance, and by the end, your home looks amazing with the spider webs and the other decorations you have out. You’re so happy that you take a few pictures just for memory keeping, something you always do, while Miguel watches you fondly.

After finishing taking pictures, the two of you head back inside to warm up by cuddling on the couch, just like you were hoping. The show you were playing earlier is still going, but you don’t even care much about it at this point since you’ve re-watched like a million times anyway, so you focused on caressing Miguel’s face, who looks more than happy with the attention. He leans into your touch, his crimson eyes fluttering in delight due to your soft hands.

“I bet everyone is going to say how wonderful the spider webs look when we host the little party on Halloween,” you whisper, remembering that you both decided to host a small Halloween party for the neighbors. “I’m going to have to pay you back.”

“Mmm, yeah? What do you have in mind?” Miguel asks, his hand moving to your hip, caressing it lightly.

“Hmm, I’ll think about it,” you reply. “I have an idea,” you add, earning yourself a gentle squeeze at your hip and the sweetest, laziest smile from your husband, who you know doesn’t care if you reciprocate the kind gesture in any way since he did it out of love.

Halloween Party

Dressed in matching costumes with Miguel, your Halloween party is a success. You set up age appropriate games for the kids and made sure to have plenty of delicious food and candy, on top of what the neighbors brought over. At the end of the party, Miguel and you stand outside on the front of your home to see the last couple out for the night.

“You two have a great night. Thank you for the good time,” Mrs. García says with a smile. “It was lovely!”

Miguel and you smile, standing next to each other. You feel your husband’s arm around your waist from the back, his warmth seeping into your own body.

“It was a pleasure, Mrs. García. I’m glad you enjoyed it,” you reply, pleased with yourself since the small group of people you invited seemed to have enjoyed themselves.

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you, but those spider webs! They’re so wonderful. I hope you don’t mind me asking, but where did you buy them?” the older woman asks, her husband looking at the spider webs with interest, too.

You grin, recalling that the very next day after Miguel and you hanged them, the spider webs were a point of discussion around the neighborhood. You can only guess why.

“My mom bought them for us, but I’m not sure where she got them from since they don’t have a company logo or something like that,” you lie, finding it easy to do so because it’s not the first time that you’ve been asked where you got them from. Of course, you had to fabricate some lie because you can’t tell them your husband made them.

“That’s a shame. They’re so wonderful. I was thinking,” Mrs. García starts, staring at one of the spider webs. “They look so much like our superhero’s. It’s as if they were made by Spider-Man himself.”

You grin at that, feeling Miguel’s hand squeeze your side. “They do, don’t they?” Miguel says quietly. “But my mother-in-law got them for us. Where from? Solo Dios sabe [only God knows].”

After cleaning up and completing your night routines, you lay next to Miguel on your shared bed. You can’t help but stare at him with full admiration and love. You find yourself doing that often, wondering how everything led to this beautiful life with this beautiful and gentle man. Smiling, your eyes move over that beautiful chiseled face, loving how cute your husband looks with his reading glasses. You watch him flip the page on his current read, seemingly unaware of his wife’s eyes.

You can’t help yourself — he looks so handsome laying on his side of the bed, shirtless with grey sweatpants as bottoms.

“¿No te han dicho que es de mala educación cuando te le quedas mirando a alguien [Haven’t they told you it’s rude to stare?]?” Miguel asks, smirking softly and looking at you.

And God, no matter how long you’ve been together, that smirk and voice does things to you. Your cheeks feel hot and suddenly you turn shy under your husband’s gaze. “I was just admiring the view,” you confess softly. “Can’t help it.”

Still smirking, Migue places his book on the nightstand and removes his reading glasses. In seconds, he has you straddling his lap with ease. He wraps his arms around your waist, his hands caressing your sides. “Mm, I find myself doing that too often with my lovely wife,” Miguel whispers.

You smile and cup Miguel’s face. “Is that so?”

“Mhm, so much. I’d be a trillionaire if I was paid for looking at you,” he replies, making you chuckle.

“Thank you,” you whisper. “For making the lovely spider webs. I love them so much!” You press a soft kiss to his lips. “You have no idea how many compliments they got and how many times I had to lie about my mom buying them for me, so they wouldn’t get any ideas about where they came from.”

Squeezing your sides, Miguel grins. “Anything for you, preciosa [precious]. And it seems our little white lie worked. Hopefully no one thinks too hard about them, like Mrs. García.”

“’Made by Spider-Man himself’ — she got it right on the head,” you whisper, amused before leaning forward again and pecking Miguel’s lips. “I’m gonna have to thank Spider-Man himself for lending me a hand.”

“Hmm, yeah? I’ve heard he loves cookies and sweet tamales [I think everyone knows these; Latin dish],” Miguel replies in a whisper, brushing his lips against yours, still holding you close. “Perhaps you can thank him like that, with something sweet.”

“Ah, ah,” you tease. “I did have a feeling he has a sweet tooth.”

“The worst,” Miguel answers, grinning. “He loves sweet things… Like his sweet wife, who has the sweetest lips, voice, and….” Miguel trails off and begins to pepper your face with gentle kisses.

“Hmm, what were you going to say there, arañita [little spider]?” you ask, amused, while Miguel continues showering you with kisses.

Pulling back, Miguel smiles. “The sweetest soul I know,” he whispers.

“I don’t think that’s what you were going to say.”

Miguel chuckles. “No, but it’s the truth all the same. You’re the sweetest and I’m so thankful to be yours,” he adds, his hands moving to your ass, squeezing gently, before leaning forward to kiss you slowly, tenderly, and lovingly on the lips.

You kiss him back, still cupping his face. “I love you,” you whisper against his lips when you pause the kiss just to tell him that.

“Y yo a ti, mi vida [and I you, my life],” Miguel replies in a whisper. “Te amo [I love you].”

You kiss again before you pull back, feeling something poking you. You grin. “Spider-Man really does love sweet things, hm?”

“Mhm, he has a craving for something sweet right now,” Miguel answers.

“Did you know Spider-Man's wife loves it when her husband wears grey sweatpants?”

“I may or may not know that,” Miguel murmurs, using a hand to caress your cheek with a mischievous grin.

“Something tells me you do know,” you only manage to say before your husband rolls over on top of you to get his sweet tooth satisfied.

A/N: Thank you for reading!!

Alondra❤️

[rafescherie]

✮⋆˙ rafe cameron getting himself off...

warnings — MDNI 18+. male masturbation, mentions of drug-use, & mentions of sexual desires with unspecified relationships.

cherie's note — this was written with season one rafe in mind because i would absolutely gobble him down if i could (i’m lowkey a pervert).

he gets turned on so easily — this boy gets absolutely no play, no attention from women & is lowk a porn freak. wearing a low cut shirt around him? boner. in a bathing suit? boner. touchy with him? boner. talk to him in the softest most innocent voice you can and he’s gonna cum in his shorts on the fucking spot, like i don’t know what to tell you.

i think he lowk be jorking it more than a few times a week — his favourite thing to do after a stress filled day is angrily fist his slick cock within his warm palm, works wonders to get the edge off for him, especially after dealing with the stress of his father. can we take a moment to imagine just how much he’s panting afterwards? like omg… poor boy can’t even catch his own breath, greasy bangs stuck to his sweaty forehead while his thick cock continued to twitch in his palm.

i feel like he’s lowkey a whimperer? like obviously because everyone else still lives in the house at this time, but imagining the little whimpers and grunts that fall from his lips every time he’s touching himself oh my god.

help this is so raunchy but i can imagine him with his polo shirt caught between his teeth as he stares at himself in the mirror, the way he’s so damn focused on getting himself off only further helping to reach him to his climax. it’s kind of egotistical but i can just feel it that he gets off watching himself stroke his shit in the mirror wow.(me next)

absolutely will be jerking off to your pictures. no doubt about it, every picture of you in a bikini, or tight forming shirt, posted on your instagram will have him screenshotting and putting it in his ‘hidden’ folder in case you go through his phone one day. finds he can make himself cum so much faster while looking at you, at the same time imagining it was your tits he was spurting on.

i can sooo see topper buying rafe a pocket pussy as a joke for their secret santa gifts or some stupid shit. rafe obviously finds it funny but won’t fucking use it, it was a gag joke and just boys being boys. until he does use it, slicking his cock with his own spit and fucking himself into the toy over and over again, totally imagining it was sweet little pogue/kook he had a thing for, wishing it was your tight warm cunt he could just fill with his sperm instead of that stupid silicone pussy.

also, first thing he’s doing after sniffing a line is pumping his cock between his palms, cocaine gets you so stupidly horny that he can’t contain himself when he’s all alone.

so manipulatable !!!!!! so fucking brain dead when he’s horny, like his pretty head has just turned to complete mush while he desperately pumps his cock for some sort of relief from the tension.

last one i swear. i can totally see him grunting and whimpering, and talking to himself while he does it. dirty talking with half open heavy lidded eyes, hand working against himself while he’s mutter shit like, ‘just like that’ and ‘feels so fuckin good’ and he’s whiningggg. HELLO?? he’s so obviously thinking about you too, letting your pretty name slip past his lips, praising how good of a job you’re doing even though you aren’t there, like this guy is sooo fucking pussy whipped for you and you haven’t even let him hit. he’s so obsessed.

[reverieblondie]

I already sent this thought to someone, but I think you might like it, too!

Tiefling bachelors accidentally scratching up the surfaces they were bracing their hands on while engaged in a moment of carnal passion with his partner, like not small superficial scratches, I mean his claws left gouge marks. Imagine he is all nervous/embarrassed about it only for his partner to inform him that is actually incredibly hot.

I look forward to seeing your thoughts (if you desire to share them).

A/N: This took me forever! But I loved every second it was so fun! these scenario ones are always my favorites! I love love the Tiefling bachelors but I wanted to add some of my moots OCs that I love. We have Kieran from @dark-and-kawaii wonderful mind (thank you for the screenshot and thank you for making this man I am obsessed!) We also have Syvaris who I instantly fell for when I saw him on the discord server made by @tealfling (He is so dreamy and I am so happy for @faerunsbest oc Dwylla for snatching up that tall man, also thank you for the photo to use!) Hope you enjoy its all 18+! MDNI!

Rolan

"Your... A- Ah~ Annoying,  you know that?" Rolan growls in your ear as his claws dig into the sides of your thighs. All you can manage is a breathy giggle that turns into a whine as he pushes into your wet core deeper. The ridges stretch you as he sinks deeper, Rolan's brows are furrowed, and his eyes shut tight as he feels you clench on his cock like a vise. "So…so… tight… per-perfect," his voice mumbles as he gets lost in the feeling. This is a far cry from how he was acting earlier, you had been bothering him all day with countless pointless questions, touching his arms and hands, then acting oh so innocent about it. The last straw had been when you barged into his office and sat on his desk, hiking up your dress to show just a teasing hint of your thighs, of course, in an effort to interrupt his oh-so-important studies. Rolan was definitely taking out some built up frustrations when he finally broke. Grabbing you by your waist, Rolan pushes you down on the desk and finally kisses you; it is desperate, hungry, and completely perfect. You didn't think Rolan was ever going to stop kissing you, not until he started talking about how you drive him crazy. Now, here you lay back on the desk as Rolan's long nails scratch his oak desk, and he ruts in, bouncing you to take an inch deeper with every thrust. The pleasure of the stretch is overwhelming, and then there's the sight of him over you, his golden eyes shining, and the way his hair hangs down; he is completely enthralling. You should have bothered him to this point months ago... "Rolan... you're perfect." Your sweet praise rings in Rolan's ears, making him scratch his nails deeper down his desk. You feel his tail thrashing around till it's gripping your leg like a vice; all you can keep doing is gripping his tough skin, singing his praises, making his cock throb, and you too keen further. Rolan, fueled by your praise, loses himself in you as he lifts his foot on top of the desk angling his cock to hit against your G-spot in mind-numbing bliss. Rolan's own praise continues to switch from common to infernal as he desperately chases both of your orgasms. He's been pinning for months, and now that he has you, he's desperate to please you. When he finally pushes you to that edge, it's intense. Once you have both come down from your orgasms, Rolan's face is flushed from more than just the 'workout.' He's avoiding eye contact even as you try to ask him what the matter is. "Was it me?" you finally muster as you feel your chest sinking. Rolan turns to you quickly, holding your naked body close to his, "It's me… I was… unhinged… you probably-" you cover his mouth with your fingers, causing him to become quiet, "You were perfect… Rolan, truly perfect." Rolan looks at his sharp nails and ruined desk, "It didn't scare you?" You lean in closer to his lips, "Only excites me…"  

Hours later, Lia brought up Rolan a late dinner (considering he had missed it earlier doing whatever). When she knocked on the door, she could have sworn she had heard hissing whispers and something being shoved. Rolan answers the door out of breath but uncharacteristically cheerful; it was suspicious... Lia looks around and sees large gashes on his desk and on his study walls. "What happened here?" She says, placing the tray down on the ruined desk; Rolan stumbles about clearing his throat till picking up a tome (one of many on the floor), "I was working on a difficult spell." Lia looks around, "I guess it's one hell of a spell…" Before she can further look around, Rolan is thanking her for the food and pushing her out. Must be very eager to get back to his work… 

Zevlor

The first thing he asked you when you came into the storage room was if anyone saw you sneak in after him. The Second question he asked you as he walked towards you from the darkness, his fiery eyes locked on yours, was if you could keep quiet." Of course "was what you promised Zevlor, and of course, at that time, you had meant it… but now that your legs are wrapped around his textured waist and his thick cock is ramming in and out of you, bouncing you against the supply shelf, you're finding it difficult not to scream his name. Zevlor is also finding it equally as difficult not to moan your name as yours as you take him in so well, your tight warmth practically sucking him in deeper as your slick walls flutter around him. Your nails bite into his shoulders with every roll of his hips. Zevlors breath is hot and heavy against your neck, his teeth threatening to bite your delicate skin as he presses sloppy kisses against you. It all just riles you up more, rolling your hips to meet his thrust pushing his hot cock to sink in deeper, nudging that sensitive spot in your cunt, forcing you to see stars. A deep groan rips from Zevlors throat as your cunt quivers on his cock with a rush of your arousal squirting onto his abdomen. In an attempt to keep himself quiet, he bites into your skin while his hands claw up and tear at the supply shelves, even forcing some things to fall and crash to the ground as his hips move erratically to chase his high. Later, he will embarrassingly apologize for acting like an animal, but you just kiss his lips and say you want to see that passion again. 

You're trying not to blush as the rest of the caravan's refugees look at the ruined shelves and materials marked by claws. When Zevlor finally shows up from being called, he gives a simple answer: "Animals must have gotten in and messed around," he says, trying to hide his smile. You promised that your rondeau tonight would happen outside the grove so you could be as loud as you like.

Cal

You could have had anyone you wanted at the party; as the hero of the hour, everyone was trying to catch your attention, but you picked him out, and Cal couldn't be happier. Cal almost feels like he can't breathe as you kiss his neck before running your tongue over his ears. You giggle as his tail twists and sways erratically, his clawed hands holding tightly onto your bedroll, carefully trying not to rip it. Cals is trying so hard not to lose control, but little does he know that's exactly what you're after. Cal has always been so sweet and strong… All you want him to do is to let go and finally release all that built-up tension. So after much soft teasing with sweet whispered desires, you reward when Cal finally snaps, taking you in his arms and kissing you like he's never going to see you again. You, of course, were soft to start… but your want can make you ravenous as Cal's hands ran over your body; of course, it led to you stripping him in a fever, eager to feel his hot hands all over your skin, caressing your sides, teasing your inner thighs, and twisting your breast… You just couldn't help it anymore when you finally pushed him down to sink onto his girth. Cal's clawed hands rip fistfuls of your bedroll apart as you bounce on his cock; he eagerly matches your pace with his hips ramming up into your wet cunt, making your eyes roll in ecstasy. Your sweet Cal looks up at you with half-lidded eyes concentrating on your pleasure, he wants to please you, and when you bring his hand to circle your clit he's in bliss. Your cunt clenches down harder on his thick cock, making a growl rip from his throat as he tries not to cum too quickly.  But then you start begging… begging for him to cum inside and claim you as his. With a moan and a loud tear, you feel him cum in hot spurts that make you desperate for more of him. Later, Cal will be so embarrassed and nervous about ripping up your bedroll; of course, he offers to give you his, but you just smirk, "I don't mind it all ripped up; it's a good reminder of you for the road."  

The next day, as you're packing up your things, still feeling quite melancholy about the tiefling departure, you're about to pack up your ruined bedroll when a clearing of a throat causes you to turn. It's Halsin, and in his hands, he has a bedroll. You look at him confused, and he just smiles. "Heard from a blushing young man that you needed a new one." Of course, Cal wouldn't leave you with a ruined one. During your small reverie of thinking about Cal, Astarion walks past with a smirk, "Hope it's claw proof, that or get that teif some claw covers for next time." 

Dammon

His forked tongue licks at your dripping sweat as it rolls down your throat. Dammon pins you against the back wall as one hand holds your hips as the other keeps him steady leaning you both steady. His weight presses against your body as his thick cock stretches you open. Your hands and legs wrap tightly around him as he fucks you in the back of the forge. You had been so needy and couldn't wait for him to take you upstairs, you needed him now. So thus leading to you two tangled together in the back of the shop. You're both nude and sweating as the forge fire roars. As you chant his name Dammons pace gets rougher, his cock slamming in so deep you begin to see stars. Feeling your tight warmth starting to clench on his cock has his mind going blank. First, you feel his sharp nails on your hip pierce your skin, then you hear the scratching down the stone wall as his hips get faster, the pace getting sloppier but never relenting. Dammon always knows how to give you exactly where you need it every time. His breathing is rough and shallow in your ear before he lets out a dark growl, "Cum on my cock. So I can fucking fill you..." Dammon is rarely so demanding, but you just can't help yourself when he is. Dammon comes to bed later rather quietly… when you ask him about it, he says he's embarrassed for getting so rough, when will he learn that's your favorite…

The customer looks at the back of the forge's wall, tilting his head at the scratches all over the stones. "What happened to your back wall?" Dammon flushes, stammering before you come and place a hand on the small at his back, calming him. "Just your typical late night at the forge. Nothing to worry about."

Kieran

He smiles down at your blissed-out face, "Feels good, doesn't it, bunny?" All you can manage to do is to open your mouth and whine as his cock keeps punching against your cervix, brushing your smooth, slick walls with the hard ridges of his cock. Kieran smirks down at you, so malleable for him; he hicks your legs up further, forcing your knees up to your face, successfully folding you in half. "You're so full you can't even think right now, huh?" You urge yourself to answer, but with the added heat of his body slamming onto you is leaving you in a lustful daze. You end up just grabbing his shoulders, digging your nails further into his flesh, practically threatening to make him bleed, "Please…" Your pleading is music to his ears as he pounds you harder, his nails not only ripping through the wooden headboard but ripping your skin in the process. The sharp feeling is quickly dulling into toe-curling pleasure as Kieran continues to fuck you at a rough pace. "Please… Please!" you continue to breathe as you quench down on his cock, causing him to groan in your ear, "Oh bunny, you don't even know what you're begging for, do you?" Kieran rolls his hips at an agonizingly slow pace making your eyes cross as his tail finds your clit. "What would your boyfriend think of you now? Begging like a whore for another man's cock in his bed nonetheless…" you hardly hear his taunting words as you cling to him, babbling as his nails continue to carve into you; if you didn't know any better, you would think he's carving his initials… "poor bastard just didn't know how to treat you…" Kieran grabs your hips and starts to bounce you in his cock, smiling at how you come undone for him so easily. Honestly, Kieran is not remorseful in the least for scratching everything up. 

Your boyfriend stumbles into your shared bedroom and pauses when he sees the bed broken and everything else he owns ripped to shreds. He looks around, perplexed until he sees a letter waiting on the broken nightstand. "Sorry about the bed. Try finding something more durable. Also, I took the girl." - K.E. 

Syvaris

Syvaris was just expecting to take a nice refreshing dip… but he hadn't expected to be interrupted during his wash in the river. Syvaris had a feeling he was being watched, it was only confirmed when he stopped his meditation to see you peeking at him from behind a tree. You, the same sweet little thing he had helped save earlier that day spying on him…, and he couldn't find it in himself to mind, especially when it's someone so pretty like you acting so naughty. All Syvaris had to do was wave his hand to beckon you closer, "care to join me?" was all he said to get you to strip bare for him and join him in the crisp waters. It was clear you were wanting this just like he was. The coolness of the water made you feel a shiver throughout your body; it was short-lived. However, as you swam closer, he wrapped his warm arms around you, bringing you to his lap. Syvaris chuckled as he let you roam your hands over his wide chest. A passionate make-out followed where he prepped you with his long fingers in your wet cunt. The next thing you knew in the lust-filled blur was him having switched your positions to have your back pushed against a rock as he stretched your cunt taut, and he sunk into your warmth. Syvaris seemed determined to ruin you for any man after him with the way he rammed into you. Syvaris continued to shower you in praise as his lips caressed your sweat-laced skin, and with every kiss, every whisper, every thrust that threatened to go straight to your womb, your pussy fluttered and gripped him like a vise. Such a sweet little thing… he promises to come back for you when his journey is over, but for now he wants to stay in this moment for as long as he can, holding tight to you as he digs his claws into the rock holding you as he fills you with his cum. You won't be able to forget him… especially not when you're going to be leaking him for days…

You are stuck in your reverie as you look out into the cool waters. You were meant to be down here to wash laundry in the stream, but when you look in the distance, you see that same place where you shared your night with your hero. Syvaris had left with a promise to return, and you knew deep down it was true… but you still worried…. "Are those bear scratches?" one of the girls with her own basket says in shock, part of you has half a mind to confess… but you keep Syvaris and your secret tight to your chest. 

[apteryxparvus]

AITA for exposing my pro volleyball player boyfriend's monster addiction on r/fridgedetective?

Pairing — Suna Rintarou / Reader

Word count — 2,046

Content warning — none

Summary — When you accidentally expose your boyfriend for hoarding an ungodly amount of Monster energy drinks in his mini fridge, the internet takes it and runs wild.

You don’t think twice when you head to your boyfriend’s mini-fridge. Suna always keeps a stash of snacks and drinks in there for late-night movie marathons, and you’re desperately craving a fizzy hit of Ramune soda. But when you open the fridge…

Monster Energy. 

Monster Energy everywhere.

You don’t even spot the soda you’re looking for. Just rows upon rows of neon cans stacked like Tetris blocks, along with an alarming number of Chuupets squished in the corners. Who needs this much caffeine and sugar?

The fridge hums ominously, as if judging you for your surprise.

Naturally, you take a picture and post it.

For science.

You don’t expect much. Maybe 10 or 20 upvotes, and a couple of comments from bored strangers confirming that, yes, Suna’s energy drink consumption is borderline criminal. After all, it’s just a silly post on a silly subreddit, nothing to lose sleep over.

But when you groggily check your Reddit account the next morning, your notifications are wild. It’s not just a handful of upvotes—it’s thousands. Your post isn’t just trending on r/fridgedetective; it’s made the Reddit front page.

There’s an overwhelming flood of comments, many of them calling out your boyfriend by name. A part of you wants to laugh—because, really, how did they guess so fast?—but another part of you is too scared to even open Twitter or any other social media platform. You just know someone has screenshotted it and blasted it across the internet; probably with a wild caption like: “Suna Rintarou EXPOSED by his own partner”.

The sheer absurdity hits you like a train. Your boyfriend’s unhealthy obsession with energy drinks and frozen treats has gone viral. Your boyfriend has gone viral.

And, at this point, you’re not sure if you should wake him up to warn him, or just quietly pack your things and go into witness protection.

Among the chaos of Reddit notifications, your phone buzzes with a few messages. A quick glance tells you it’s from two very predictable sources.

Kita: Just empty the fridge and restock it with healthy food. He’ll grumble, but it’s for the best.

Atsumu: WOW I CAN’T BELIEVE U TATTLED ON MY BOY LIKE THAT 💀💀💀

You sigh, rubbing your temples. Against your better judgement, you open the Inarizaki High alumni group chat—and immediately regret it.

Atsumu is clearly living for this. You should’ve known better.

He’s on a rampage, flooding the chat with screenshots from Twitter.

"Suna's fridge contents have NO BUSINESS being this cursed."

"Suna Rintarou EXPOSED for his crimes against hydration."

"Monster sponsorship when???"

It’s one caption after another, each one wilder than the last. You groan, burying your face in your pillow, as if that could block out the chaos unfolding on your screen. You can practically hear Atsumu’s wheezy cackles through the text, and his twin brother, Osamu, is doing nothing to help—just spamming the chat with popcorn emojis like he’s front row at the circus.

You sigh, fingers hovering over the keyboard as you prepare to grill Atsumu for being the absolute worst at 7 AM. But before you can type a single word, the bed shifts.

Suna groans softly, stirring beside you. His arm slides over your waist, pulling you closer as he burrows his face into the crook of your neck.

“Mm, what’s with all the buzzing?” he mumbles, his voice heavy with sleep.

“Nothing,” you lie, way too quickly, throwing your phone across the bed like it’s radioactive. You lean in to press a kiss to his forehead. “Don’t worry, just go back to sleep.”

It almost works. Almost. But your phone keeps vibrating obnoxiously—no doubt Atsumu is still spamming the group chat with screenshots and whatever unhinged commentary he’s decided to add. You curse yourself for not muting him earlier, but now it’s far too late.

Suna groans again, this time with the exasperation of someone who just wants five more minutes of peace. He shifts, reaching for the phone you so desperately tried to avoid.

“Why’s Atsumu spamming the group chat so early?” he asks groggily, his thumb already swiping across the screen.

“No reason!” you blurt out, sitting up too quickly. “You don’t need to check—”

But it’s too late. The moment Suna opens the chat, his expression shifts. His sleepy indifference hardens into something sharper. 

Betrayal.

Two days later, you’re settled into your couch, blanket wrapped snug around your shoulders, laptop propped up on your knees. Kodzuken’s stream is set to start in fifteen minutes, and if you’re going to survive whatever chaos the streamer’s chat is inevitably bound to bring, you’re going to need a heavy caffeine boost.

Your eyes slowly drift to the mini fridge in the corner.

You’ve been trying to avoid it ever since the whole incident. But you cannot deny the itch for something cold and fizzy to keep you awake. There’s a moment of hesitation as you chew on your lip, before you finally stand up and pad over.

“Okay… alright,” you mumble to yourself, hand hovering over the handle. “It’s just a fridge. How bad can it be?”

You pull it open.

And the sight nearly makes you drop to your knees.

Gone is the chaotic hoard of neon green Monster Energy cans and suspicious, almost-melted chuupets. Instead, the shelves are pristine, almost squeaky white, gleaming as if the fridge belongs to some sort of soda commercial. And every single slot has been replaced with your favorite soda flavor.

Each glass bottle has a sticky note attached to it, the handwriting unmistakably Suna’s—slightly tilted to the right and a little lazy, like he couldn’t quite be bothered but also cared just enough.

The first note you pick you reads: “I’m doing this for you, even though it hurts 💔💔.”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you pick up another bottle, the condensation slick against your palm. This note reads: “Please don’t post me online again 😔💔.”

A third one in the far back reads: “I hope you’re happy. My dignity is in shambles.”

You choke back a laugh, clutching the bottle to your chest like it’s some sort of love letter.

Everything is just absurd. Dramatic. Completely unnecessary.

But so him.

Kenma’s notification pings from your laptop, reminding you his stream is starting soon. But for a moment, you just stand there, bathed in the soft glow of the fridge light, staring at the ridiculous display of Ramune bottles and heartfelt stickies.

Dinner is a quiet affair, save for the occasional clink of chopsticks against bowls and the soft fizz that Suna’s Ramune soda makes as he takes a long, dramatic sip. You can’t help but glance at him as your phone buzzes with another notification from the group chat.

The #monstersmvp hashtag Atsumu created is still going strong.

You unlock your phone, and cover your mouth trying to stifle a laugh—Atsumu’s latest spamming spree is a trainwreck you cannot look away from.

“What now?” Suna asks, voice flat as he picks at his food.

“‘tsumu keeps sending the eulogies from the hashtag. Ready to hear the best of the best?”

 “No,” your boyfriend deadpans, taking another slow, deliberate sip of the fizzy drink.

Ignoring him, you start reading anyway. “Okay, here goes,” you clear your throat, holding the phone up dramatically. “Rest in power: Gone but never forgotten. Suna’s energy drink hoard was a beacon of poor nutritional choices and excessive caffeine addiction. Taken from us far too soon by the merciless hand of justice (a.k.a. his girlfriend). May its legacy live on in vending machines and gas station coolers everywhere.”

Suna rolls his eyes, but you can see the corners of his mouth subtly twitching, like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Wait, wait,” you say, scrolling further. “It wasn’t Suna’s blocks that made him a true legend. No, it was his fridge full of Monsters. The stash stood as a tall, proud monument to his dedication to caffeine and chaos, but alas, all good things must come to an end. In lieu of flowers, please send Ramune soda.”

He takes another slow sip of his soda, gaze fixed on you over the rim of the bottle. “These people are unhinged.”

“You mean your fans are unhinged,” you correct, waving your phone at him. “You brought this on yourself, you know.”

He sets the bottle down, resting his chin in his hand as he smirks at you, that lazy, infuriating smirk that makes your heart skip a beat even when you’re annoyed with him. “You’re awfully invested in this for someone who caused the whole mess.”

“Excuse me, you’re the one who kept a hoard of energy drinks like some kind of cryptid!”

“And you’re the one who made it go viral.”

Suna shakes his head, clicking his chopsticks. “If I ever get my stash back, I’m putting a padlock on that fridge.”

“Sure,” you tease, scrolling through the wall of text messages. “But you’ll have to bribe me first.”

The morning after starts with the doorbell buzzing like it’s got a personal grudge against your sleep. You groan, burrowing deeper into the blankets as Suna mumbles incoherently beside you.

“Are you gonna get that?” you ask, voice muffled by the pillow.

“Nope,” he replies, eyes still closed.

The buzzing continues, persistent and annoying, until you finally throw the blankets off with a groan. “Fine, I’ll do it. But if it’s Atsumu, I’m kicking him.”

Shuffling to the door in your pajamas, you swing it open, ready to give whoever it is a piece of your mind. Instead, you’re greeted by two delivery people dressed in head-to-toe Monster Energy attire. Hats, shirts, gloves—even their shoes have the Monster logo.

“Delivery for Suna Rintarou?” one of them says, all too chipper for this ungodly hour.

Behind them is a massive, industrial-sized fridge wrapped in black and neon green, the Monster Energy logo glowing ominously on the front.

You blink. “You’re joking.”

“We’re not,” the other delivery person says, already wheeling the monstrosity closer.

You stand frozen as they maneuver the fridge through the door, parking it in the middle of your living room like it belongs there. By the time Suna wanders out from your bedroom, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, the delivery people are gone, and the fridge looms like some sort of otherworldly deity.

“What the hell is that?” he asks, voice rough with sleep.

“Your consequences, clearly,” you grumble.

“You think it comes pre-stocked?”

You stay quiet, keeping your distance from the fridge as if your glare alone might short-circuit the thing. If you got too close, you’d be tempted to whack it with something—like the baseball bat you keep by the door in case of emergencies.

Suna, unbothered by your lack of answer, wanders closer, hand lazily brushing against the neon logo before gripping the handle. He looks back at you with a smirk.

The door creaks open.

Even though the fridge isn’t even on, it’s packed to the brim with dozens upon dozens of Monster cans. Shelves sag under the weight of every imaginable flavor—there are classics, tropical blends, tea-infused hybrids, even some cans with foreign text that scream exclusive import.

“How is this fridge even stocked? It’s not on.” You can’t hold back the groan. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Look at this,” Suna says, picking up a can with a holographic label. He holds it up like it’s some kind of treasure. “I didn’t even know this flavor existed.”

“Put it back,” you say, your voice sharp. “I’m gonna set it on fire, I swear."

He doesn’t listen. Instead, he grabs another can, then another. “They’ve got the white pineapple, the tea blend... oh, and the zero-calorie peach! This is insane.”

“I’m gonna lose my mind.” You bury your face in your hands, trying to process the sheer audacity of the situation. “Who does this?!”

“There, there,” Suna teases, patting your back. “Want a sip?” he asks, cracking open a random can.

You glare at him, contemplating the consequences of slamming the door shut on both the cans and his smug face. Instead, you stomp to the couch, plopping down, and muttering, “I’m calling ‘tsumu. This has his name written all over it.”

Suna’s laughter echoes through the living room, followed by the distinct hiss of him opening yet another can.

Author's note: phew, editing the Reddit posts took ages 🤧 please ignore any discrepancies between the profile pictures of the users pls

i’ll marry whoever buys me a fully stocked redbull fridge, no questions asked

[akkpipitphattana]

alright, we're on the third and FINAL part of me picking the boat scene to bits. you can find part one here and part two here

where we last left off, kant was going towards jumping in the water but he stopped and then we get this question from bison.

and the thing that gives me chills about this moment, aside from the absolute terror and pain on kant's face, is how softly bison asks this. almost like it's a genuine question. like he's offering help because kant is in a tough spot. but it's not a genuine question because he's trying to help - it's a threat. he's telling kant if he doesn't jump, bison will push him.

however, it's also quite an interesting question when you think about it in the context of love and their relationship. i talked a little bit about the setting choice in comparison to the fadel and style confrontation scene already, but lauren @sunsetsover once again had some wonderful additions which you can find here. basically, the difference in locations represents a lot of things, like openness and their intentions, but it also has to do with wants. bison wants love, has always wanted love, and he wants kant to prove to him that it wasn't all fake - even if right now he believes it was. so the question of if you want to jump or fall, it can also go back to how this all started for kant. he fell for bison, against every one of his intentions and instincts, he fell for him anyways. no matter how much he fought it, no matter how much he tried to stop it, he couldn't stop himself from falling for bison. but now, in a way, he's getting a chance to actually choose it. he's getting a chance to jump into love, to let himself die and prove to bison he did love him.

and he's going to, god he wants to do this one final thing for him, but he looks at the water and all he sees is himself, drowning as a child, crying out for his parents. and you can SEE IT in the last screenshot, you can see that kant is not THERE, he's not looking at the water in front of him, he's seeing the water from when he was a child and was drowning and it's HEARTBREAKING. you have to watch the scene yourself again and look at the sheer terror and heartbreak on his face in those few seconds because got it's just. it's so painful.

but bison doesn't know, or he doesn't care, and he wants kant to jump, so he yells at him, he shouts at him to do it. he's so angry and hurt and he needs to see kant do this.

so kant goes again, but he hesitates again and he looks at bison, like he's begging for him to change his mind. but it only takes a second for him to know, to realize he won't. that he will have to do this. that doesn't have any other choice. that this is the only way to prove himself and to try and make it up to bison, if he even can.

there's a moment of silent communication where bison nods his head towards the water to once again force kant to jump in.

so kant braces himself, pulls every ounce of courage he has left in him, and he climbs up, bison still yelling at him, and he jumps.

i'm gonna link you to a giftset the last few moments of the scene here that jay @kantpattanawat made because i think everything with bison in it is MUCH BETTER seen in motion and i also don't wanna run out of image space again sdkjsfdf

but kant jumps. terrified out of his mind, he jumps. for bison, for himself, because he thinks he deserves it, because he doesn't think he can save himself anyways. because at least this way he can show bison he chooses him. that he does love him. because bison threw his heart into the ocean and kant is going to sink to the bottom with it.

but bison didn't actually think he would. you can even see it on his face, right before kant jumps, that he's questioning if he actually will. and when he does, you can see the panic in his body language because holy shit kant actually jumped. and he shouts after him, like he's an idiot for it, and maybe kant is! but he did it for bison didn't he? because bison asked? and isn't that what bison's always wanted? someone that loves him enough to choose him, to listen to him?

so bison will jump in and he'll still make kant prove himself again, but i think this is the moment bison really forgives him. this is the moment he realizes kant was serious back in the hospital. that maybe it wasn't all lies. this is the moment their love story can really start.

[rinkrumours]

What are your thoughts on the sunday chirps podcast video where people think theyre talking about the hughes brothers towards the end of the video?

*posted the unedited version earlier! so if you saw that please disregard it! i've added more information and detail to this one*

VIDEO CLIPS

3 part clip allegedly regarding them: !!!!

full podcast episode: !!!!

you don’t need to believe the rumours or gossip they’re talking about, but based on what i’ve pieced together, there’s no doubt they're talking about the hughes bros.

personally, i don’t think there’s any real reason for these two to lie... especially when their podcast is super small and niche and barely gets views.

plus, their mannerisms don’t give off the vibe of people just pulling stuff out of nowhere, especially not on the spot. most people are bad at lying or improvising made-up stories, so for both of them to somehow deliver a fake story well and in sync like that? kinda unlikely.

i’ll admit i don’t follow the hughes bros that closely, or at all really... so feel free to add or correct anything, but your girl was seriously doing mad research for this lol. it also makes it clear i’m completely biased in this whole situation.

edit: ^ meant to say unbiased!!

PODCAST GIRLS DETAILS

for starters, emma (girl in the podcast) is from birmingham, michigan. she mentioned that her grandma lives on the same lake they do, and they're there all summer and sees them often. she also said that she goes to the same country club as them.

*jack and quinn own a lake house down in orchard lake, in west bloomfield.*

*the have two lake houses. one is in new hampshire (families) and ones now in michigan (bought by the 2 boys)*

link: !!!!

below is a screenshot off emmas ig profile being at the lake at her grandmas. she also has other post being here.

she also does go to same country club as them, there is two main countryclubs in that area... emma a long with her family have posted being at both of them (i wont include her families profiles).

1. bloomfield hills country club. 15 mins away from their lake-house.

2. orchard lake country club. just minutes away from them.

^ i know it's confirmed the boys go to orchard lake country club because jack posted a photo dump with his gf (samantha) last summer, and in the background it's orchard lake's cc.

ALLEGED LUKE DRAMA + V-CARD

emma mentioned that the "younger one" was hitting up her bestfriend for a while, they hooked up and seemed to be talking... she also described how caught up her friend was about him and didn't understand why she liked him so much either.... the friend she's most likely reffering to is @/sashasuper12. she's the only one that adds up in their friendgroup + sasha and luke are mutuals on ig too.

(im sure there is luke girlies aware of her that can back this one up)

allegedly sasha has a couple re-post on her tiktok that people assume is about luke doing her dirty.

^ emma also makes fun of him for looking a certain cartoon but felt too mean to say who lol… i can put $$$$ she thinks he looks like hey arnold.

now onto jarrod (guy in the podcast) mentioning that one of his friends allegedly took "the youngest one's" virginity *cough* luke, after meeting at a bar during spring break... and even claims he has a photo of his friend and luke together too.

he explains his friend met “the 3 of them” at a bar during springbreak back when "only some were in the league." if you pay attention to his wording (and honestly most of the grammar in the pod) he basically confirms it’s three brothers in the league. and the only existing trio of known brothers in the nhl that everyone knows are them...

this ordeal happened about 3–4 years ago he said, which lines up with the timeline: both jack and quinn were in the league then, but luke didn’t debut until 2023. so this story had to be from around 2021/2022ish.

direct quote from the pod: "one of the brothers of the person we are talking about, all of the brothers... like the family went down on vacation during spring break, at the same time as one of the college spring breaks, so our spring break lined up with theres."

^ that part is a bit confusing, not gonna lie... it raises a bunch of questions. jarrod's a new york/long island guy who went to binghamton university in ny. and i believe his friend (the one who allegedly met them and slept with luke) went there too. i even looked at past academic schedules, and binghamton's spring break is usually during the first week of march.

their was also no clarification where this specifically happened either (location wise) which also doesnt help put things together.

if we assume this situation happened in 2021–2022, you also have to consider the covid factor. plus, 2/3 hughes brothers were already in the nhl at that point, and while the league does have breaks, they never land in march. that makes the timing even more questionable.

luke in early march 2021 also suffered a laceration on his foot, this is when he was still with ntdp, and needed surgery. don't think he'd be out and about.

also at this time luke would've been 18/19 and in a bar, even though the legal drinking age in the states is 21... but! you have to understand that some of these nhl guys do get into bars underage, especially if they’re already in the league or are recognized. if he showed up with his brothers and other guys who are well-known, odds are the bar isn’t going to deny a group like that, especially if they know they’re about to spend money. also they can bribe bouncers with $$$. it's not farfetched. this happens.

^ edit: luke would've actually been 17-18yrs old.

^ so i won't lie that certain details are a bit murky with this one, but the way jarrod explains it doesnt sound like he's making it up... i think he may also just be getting some things mixed up due to recalling something that allegedly happened years ago.

PEE??????

emma states she had one of her guy friends, tell her that they knew someone who was a shitty to their well i assume to be ex girlfriend, she described it in past tense. she starts off slightly vague but goes more into detail.

she starts off by saying:

"he's from michi- *stops and corrects herself*… he's not from michigan, but lives in michigan now."

^ this makes sense because all the boys aren't born and raised in michigan, like most people assume... all the boys are born in different places due to their fathers work... but mainly stayed in toronto until 2016... thats when they made the move to michigan for the boys hockey and school, for them to attend usntdp...

then she moves onto explain the incident + has some details regarding this guys background (clearly in the league) + touches up on his physcial apperance...

direct quotes from emma on the pod: "so this guy huge in the nhl, all-star, everyone knows his name. so, he had a girlfriend apparently he treated her like shit. everyone knows the inside scoop around here, cause he comes here a lot. so he was dating a girl... this guy telling me this story he's like yeah this dude treated his girlfriend like shit, hes a fucking weird guy. apparently he pissed on his girlfriend while she was sleeping because she made him mad, and dumped 2 drinks on her head at a bar."

"i never thought he was cute...*jarrod chimes in for a quick second saying girls go crazy for him too* i don't understand why... i don't understand it at all, i swear he has a lazy eye, and he has acne. he's just not the cutest guy you can get in the nhl... apparently they're all weird like that group of guys."

^ now this has led people to speculate which brother it could be. the only 2 of them who have had girlfriends are quinn and jack. we also do not know the timeline in which both of these incidents happened, could've been long ago or even somewhat recent.

my assumptions and observations:

if it's about jack, this could potentially be about him and sienna schmidtz.

if it's about quinn this could be about olivia bonn or kennedi draper, ive been seeing people kind of lean towards kennedi. but i have a bit of doubts with the kennedi one. anythings possible though!

jack and quinn are both all star players. also both are relativley big and known. id consider jack more known all around compared to quinn.

she states this guy "has" a lazy eye, but it seems more that she just thinks his eye shape is weird and it looks like a lazy eye to her. all the boys do have that "odd" certain eyeshape and stare.

both do have acne too, you can argue that quinns more noticable and seems to breakout more frequently compared to jack.

if you didn't catch on she says "apparently they're all weird like that group of guys." it seems like she's referencing the umich and usntdp boys that all hang together, possible reference to guys like trevor and cole etc?

^ but it's obvious the bar incident took place in michigan (hence why she says "people around here know") and i believe all the guys have taken their girlfriends back home at some point and had some gf's that lived in michigan. keep in mind their was no specific timeline mentioned regarding these events, it could be about any of their previous girlfriends, not just the ones i've mentioned or speculated!

BACKTRACKING

so allegedly people were saying the hosts were "backtracking"… on my end, i never saw either of them make a public announcement or post anything on their personal socials, the pod’s media accounts, nothing directly addressing what they said or clearing it up.

the most i've seen was emma commenting on a tiktok that reposted their segment. some consider this backtracking, but to me it doesn’t come off that way, she seems amused that people found a random niche podcast she's on and now it's making news on tiktok while hughes fangirls flip out in the comments lol. she doesn't confirm nor deny anything either.

even if they did backtrack, it'd make sense to avoid conflicting issues regarding the potential parties that everyone assumes its about. and as mentioned i dont think they expected people to find out about this.

all screenshots from a tiktok comment section, that reposted the clip of their pod. emma's in the comments under @/emmascrazylife. the search bar being "quinn hughes lazy eye" is crazy lmfao.

[daisynik7]

I could even learn how to love like you

There’s a certain type of peace you find in the mundanity of the typical morning commute. The soothing whirring of the railway, the chill of metal against your fingers wrapped around the handholds, even the odd comfort of being surrounded by strangers who are equally as half asleep as you are, willing to shuffle the slightest bit to make room for new passengers. Sure, it’s a nuisance for the most part, but it’s your tiny pocket of harmony before the usually stressful workday. A routine you’ve grown accustomed to, something you can rely on to stay the same in this ever-changing society. 

Change is never a bad thing, though. And sometimes, it takes a stranger on the train to show you that.

He immediately captures your attention the first time you see him. Tan business suit, straight posture, hair neatly parted, stoic expression etched on his face. The typical salary man heading to his office job in the city. While his stature is most-impressive, it’s his tie that piques your interest, a spotted pattern akin to leopard print. A splash of pizzazz on an otherwise ordinary outfit. 

He maneuvers his way to you, wrapping his fist around the same pole you’re holding, his grip a safe distance above yours. He glances at you through his spectacles, giving you a short nod to acknowledge you. You return this with a small smile, and when you notice he doesn’t have any headphones in, you say, “I like your tie.” You normally wouldn’t speak to anyone here, most people too immersed in their preferred choice of media, like music or the news. Something tells you that straying from your usual habits might be good for you today.

The second of silence where he’s processing what you said scares you; maybe you’ve become a bother for him in this already troublesome commute. Then, he clears his throat, his gaze flickering at you for the briefest moment before it focuses on the floor. “Thank you.”

The conversation ends there. In fact, that’s your entire interaction throughout the remainder of the journey. Your station arrives before his and you leave without another word. It’s neither awkward nor extraordinary. Still, the moment doesn’t stop replaying in your memory the rest of the day. You wonder if you’ll get a chance to see him on the way home, knowing the chances are slim. Schedules vary, there are many different sections of the train. The stars would have to align just right for you to be reunited with this stranger. Despite the improbability of it all, you allow yourself to be hopeful. The little taste of excitement this morning has you craving more. 

~~~

Two days pass until Nanami meets you again. Maybe he does it subconsciously, maybe it’s intentional, but he finds himself gravitating towards you. When he places his hand above yours on the pole, in similar fashion to the last time, he gives his usual nod, unsure if you recognize him.

You beam at him. “Good morning!”

He doesn’t say anything else; he’d only be pestering you with trivial conversation. Though he can’t help watching from his peripheral as you scroll through pictures of delicious food on your phone. He notices you screenshot the ones that include recipes in the description, causing him to grin to himself at how he does the same. The urge to comment is in the back of his throat, the tip of his tongue. Getting it out proves to be difficult, and he knows why. Nanami made a vow to himself ever since he returned to being a Jujutsu Sorcerer: don’t fall in love. He’s completely aware of how dangerous his job is, how his life is at risk every single mission he’s sent on. It’s what he signed up for, the life he’s currently committed to. There’s no room for attachment, for love. It's easier for him to avoid it altogether, even if it means swallowing down a simple hello on the train. It’s better this way. And quite frankly, he isn’t sure if he’s even capable of loving the way others do. His heart has become so callous throughout the years that there’s no chance at it ever softening, he’s sure of it. Perhaps the flutter in his chest at the smile you flash him is a coincidence, nothing more. 

This theory is soon debunked. 

Nanami is especially tired after today’s mission. Heading home, he manages to secure a row of empty seats and plops himself down, resting his head back, sighing. He closes his eyes, listening to the usual hustle and bustle of rush hour, resisting every temptation to fall asleep. Missing his stop would put a damper on his already foul mood. 

Eventually, the automated voice announces your stop. For whatever reason, he made it a point to remember it when you hopped off this morning, just two away from his. When he feels someone sit beside him, he peeks with one eye open, curious. 

“Hi.” You smile softly at him, eyes crinkling with genuine kindness. “It’s you.”

While Nanami is guarded and closed off from people outside his intimate circle, he’s never rude. He has no other choice but to respond to you, ignoring the obvious thump in his chest at your endearing greeting. “Hello.” He tries his best to convince himself that this unfamiliar flutter surrounding him is some sort of medical condition that needs proper diagnosis and not affection towards a beautiful stranger on the train. Stiffening in his seat, he pretends not to be intrigued by the food magazine you start flipping through, secretly studying the way you fold the corners of all the recipes you want to save for later. 

Halfway into the ride, he actually does fall asleep, only rousing awake when he feels a gentle tap on his shoulder. Blinking the bleariness from his eyes, he catches you staring at him guiltily. “Sorry,” you apologize. “I think your stop is coming next and I didn’t want you to miss it.”

He sits up straight, readjusting his tie, clearing his throat before he replies, “Thank you.” Sure enough, the automated voice from the speaker announces that they’ll be approaching his stop next. Slightly disoriented from his nap, he stands up, grasping the nearest handhold tight. His mind is racing, body itching to say something more, say anything more. Before he can, the train comes to a halt. The doors open and without another glance, he’s gone. 

Nanami spends the entire fifteen minutes of his walk home attempting to quell the stir of emotions inside him, from guilt to giddiness, all over the simple fact that you’ve memorized his stop. That you’re paying attention to him just as he is with you. 

~~~

This time, he’s the first to greet you, offering a polite nod before he grabs onto the same pole that you’re occupying. “Good morning.”

You’ve been boarding this particular section ever since you started seeing him, hoping he’d do the same. “Hello, stranger,” you respond with a grin, unable to contain your happiness.

He holds his other hand out to you. “Nanami. Nanami Kento.”

You state your name in similar fashion, shaking his hand. His skin is rough against yours, though his grip is gentle. You let go of him, dropping your arm to your side, fingers tingling. “I guess we’re not strangers anymore.”

“I guess not,” he says with a small smile. And it’s enough to send you into a tizzy. 

Conversation is easy with him. He mentions the magazine you were reading the other day, expressing his mutual interest in food. From there, the two of you talk about your favorite restaurants and eateries around the area, giving your best recommendations. Because of all the ambient noise, you lean in close to one another to hear each other properly. The gap between your hands on the pole is shorter by the time your stop approaches. You’re prepared to bid him a reluctant farewell, so it surprises you when he follows you off. “Is this your stop too?” you ask him, though you already know it isn’t. 

He shakes his head, fixing his tie idly. “My office is fifteen minutes from here. I want to get a quick walk in before I start work.”

“Are you sure this isn’t an excuse to spend more time with me?” you tease him, smirking.

He gazes into your eyes. “Maybe it’s that too.”

This is the start of a new and exciting routine for you, one that involves Nanami. You’ll spend the morning together, talking to each other in the middle of the crowded train. Then, he’ll walk you to your office building, where he leaves you with a cordial bow. You’re reunited during rush hour, sitting next to each other sharing either the newspaper he brings along with him or the new issue of a magazine you’re subscribed to. You’ll even rip out recipes for him to keep, which he tucks safely in his pocket. When he’s too tired from the workday, he’ll close his eyes, his head falling just shy of your shoulder. It all seems silly and insignificant, but to you, it’s special. 

Your relationship never goes beyond this. The two of you don’t talk about work, you never ask questions about the new injuries on his hands or the minor scrapes on his face. The idea of being anything other than acquaintances who commute together terrifies you, and you have a strong sense that it terrifies him as well. While it would be nice to be in love, you’re not confident if you can give that to him. 

It's only after Nanami stops coming when you realize that maybe you can love him. 

On Thursday, the morning after Halloween, the commute takes longer than usual due to a mysterious incident in Shibuya that the media hasn’t disclosed fully. You listen carefully to the gossip surrounding the train. According to the elder folks, it has something to do about “the hooligans” partying too hard on Halloween. The younger generation of passengers chalk it up to some conspiracy about magical entities attacking civilians to lure other magical entities. You’re not sure what to believe, and whatever is the truth doesn’t matter once you realize Nanami hasn’t boarded at his usual stop. The delays don’t help your anxiety as you spend the remainder of the ride wondering where he could be, why he hasn’t shown up, if he’s okay. 

You follow the same routine as best as you can, frequenting the same section as you usually do, holding onto the same pole, which is lonely now without his presence. On the way home, you place your bag in the seat beside you, saving it for him if there’s ever the slim chance he does show up. You continue to tear recipes from the magazines you would normally read with him, placing them inside a small envelope marked with his name, ready to present to him if you ever do see him again. To show him that you never stop thinking about him even in his absence. 

Nothing is ever revealed about what really happened in Shibuya. The general consensus is that whatever danger emerged on that Halloween night is no longer a threat and that the citizens of Tokyo are once again safe. And based on the timing of Nanami’s sudden disappearance, you believe that he’s part of the reason for that. It’s the only solace you find in this otherwise heartbreaking situation. Still, you hold out hope. For what? You’re not sure until two months later when Nanami returns to your life. 

~~~

It takes one month for Nanami to be discharged from the hospital. He was admitted two days following Halloween, after Ieiri performed all she could with her abilities to aid him with his injuries. But he’s alive, they all are. The Jujutsu sorcerers succeeded at defeating Kenjaku and all his minions, thwarting whatever horrible fate they had in store for Tokyo, potentially the entire world. They won. 

However, their triumph came with a cost. The Shibuya Incident left him permanently scarred on the left side and one eye lost forever. Rehabilitation has been grueling the past few weeks, struggling to come to terms with this battered body. He’s received unyielding support from his colleagues who he shares this trauma with. Despite this, there’s something missing, someone missing in his life. He thinks about you much more than he ought to, wondering if you’ve noticed his absence, if it’s affected you at all. Ever the pessimist, Nanami has convinced himself that you have forgotten about him, even after all the tiny, special moments you’ve shared together. It’s better this way, he knows that. After all, he doesn’t have the slightest clue what love is or how to love somebody. 

Still, he’d like to see you again, just to know that you’re doing alright. 

Another month passes before he musters the courage to be out in public again. Because of the winter season, he can hide as much of himself without rousing any suspicion. A large coat, mittens on his hands, a scarf around his neck, a mask to cover the burn scars. He dons his usual spectacles, hoping to conceal the eyepatch draped across his hollow socket. Ever since the incident, he’s felt like a monster, unable to reveal himself to strangers oblivious to the true events of that night. 

He finally boards the train, stepping foot in the usual section as he would going home, searching for a familiar face. There you are, as beautiful as ever, sitting in the same seat, your bag occupying the one beside you. You look up, your eyes meeting his, holding onto his gaze a split second longer than expected before you focus back on the magazine laid out on your lap.

It takes everything in him to deny the swell in his chest, the tiniest sliver of hope fluttering in his belly at the thought of you recognizing him. Before he loses his composure, he takes his place on the empty row across from you, enough distance to observe you inconspicuously. That’s all he intends to do, nothing more. 

As much as his world has been shaken, he’s comforted by you flipping through your magazine as usual, your life continuing normally as it should. However, he can’t help feeling a deep sadness, knowing he’s not a part of it anymore. 

Once again, you prove his assumptions wrong.

His eye widens, intrigued by you grinning at a particular page, carefully tearing it from the binding, something you used to do this for him not too long ago. He watches with bated breath as you retrieve from your bag a marked envelope already teeming with what he assumes are other recipes from previous issues. You add the new one with a delighted expression, making sure to close the flap for a temporary seal. And clear as day on the front of the envelope, even with his obscured vision, is his name written on the front. 

He sits up straight at this, his full attention on this seemingly insignificant discovery. This captures your attention, the inkling you had earlier validated. It’s him. The stature, the posture, those distinct steampunk glasses. You didn’t want to be wrong, so you didn’t say anything, trying to stifle your quickening heartbeat. But you’ve been waiting two months for this reunion, yearned for it more than anything. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you stand up, traversing towards him until you’re an arms-length away, gripping a pole tightly to steady yourself. “Nanami?”

Panic sinks in as he decides to reveal himself to you, anticipating the shock and terror in your face when you see what he looks like now. He removes the mask slowly, avoiding eye contact. “Yes, it’s me.”

Your reaction surprises him. With that same warm smile he’s missed so much, you sit down beside him, unfazed by the scars. “I’m so happy to see you.”

Love is standing close on a crowded train to keep each other company. Love is getting off at the wrong stop to spend more time together. Love is magazine clippings in an envelope with his name on it. Love is seeing all the broken pieces of him and still finding him completely beautiful. 

Nanami is certain now that he could learn how to love like you. 

Author's Note: This is the final installment of the past lives vignettes series. It’s a bit cheesy, but I really wanted to explore the aspect of “missed connections” and I thought strangers on the train would be perfect to do that. Title inspired by the song “Love Like You” by Rebecca Sugar. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are never expected, always appreciated. Thanks for reading. Divider credit to @/cafekitsune.