Is Lightning McQueen A Hear Me Out Be Honest.....

@dearru @earier

F1 AU mclaren's annoying driver lol oikage hate(love) this man

what the cowgirl is going on in pomeloblush?¿

i love it so bad…

i got a new theme idea for this acc..

BREAK UP WITH YOUR GIRLFRIEND. oliver aiku x f!reader

synopsis: texts with your ex who won’t leave you alone… even if he has a gf.

contains: toxic relationships , cheating , profanity , slight suggestive , angst. Angst. Angst. Kaiser mention.

sigh what if i js go bald

me and sakusa on my birthday

toji starts buying two of everything without realizing. two drinks, two sets of tableware, two seats on the plane. when you point it out, he simply shrugs. “it makes sense, since you’re always around.”

and it does. you are. somewhere along the way, yours and his stopped being two separate categories. things blended. bled. one toothbrush became two. one key became a spare. he didn’t assign you a drawer, but your clothes take up more space than his do.

now he’s sitting by the kitchen counter, lights dimmed, papers spread out in an unruly mess that makes sense only to him. his hair’s grayer at the temples and there’s a softness to his face that wasn’t there before — age, maybe. peace, possibly. or both.

you laugh and pad over barefoot, press a kiss to the faded scar on his mouth. his hand finds your waist like muscle memory, and you slide into his lap without thinking twice (pun intended).

he lets out a quiet “hnn” but doesn’t complain.

you sip your wine, let your head rest against his shoulder. “so,” you fix his glasses, perched on his nose like he’s fighting the idea of needing them.

“when do you plan on finally asking me out?”

he’s getting pudgy in the middle — not fat, just soft in the way you get when you find your person.

toji doesn’t look up. “it’s been twenty years.”

“and?”

“I do your taxes.”

there’s a candle burning, the cinnamon one you buy every fall. you don’t remember lighting it today. he often does it on his own these days, anyway.

you smile. “quite the romantic, aren’t you?”

“you want a title now or something?” he asks. grumbles, really. “after all this time?”

you fix his shirt. “I just think it’s funny. we’ve got a mortgage, joint bank account, and last week we agreed on baby names if it ends up looking like you.”

he grunts. “poor kid.”

“she’ll be cute. dumb, probably. but cute.”

“he.” “she.”

he chuckles, traces your ring finger between his thumbs. “you’re not getting a promposal, if that’s what you’re waiting on.”

you lean in, nosing his cheek in the way that makes his knees weak. “there goes my big dream.”

you set your glass on the table beside his calculator. he’s warm, and he smells like soap and laundry and that one cologne he pretends not to like.

“you don’t even ask me for my logins anymore.”

he rolls his eyes. “don’t need to. you keep your passwords stupid.”

“they’re not stupid. they’re nostalgic.”

“TojiFan69 is not nostalgic.”

you squish his face between your hands, laughing when he scrunches it up in faux protest. “made that in high school before I even met you.”

“then it was prophetic. still fuckin’ stupid.”

now he’s muttering, something about deductions and charitable donations, and you slot yourself between his knees, hands resting on his shoulders. he doesn’t flinch. nor does he pause. only adjusts so you fit better against him, pecking you on the forehead in the way that makes your nose scrunch. revenge.

the calculator’s still blinking beside you, some half-finished total waiting for his attention, yet neither of you move. he glances down at you - now asleep - then back at the receipts, the gears turning.

in his mind, he’s already adding a third drink, a third set of tableware, and a third seat on the plane.

NANAMIIIIIIi love him

Nanami and Gojo as murder-husbands :> Drawn for GoNanaGo Bang 2025 on ao3!

Breathing Without Lungs by ricochet was written based off this art. Please go check it out. I had a lot of fun participating, and I hope everyone goes to check out the ao3 collection.

PLAYER ﹗ TWO ›› kenna kozume x reader.

・ since middle school, you’ve had the same two friends—well, two plus the online friend you play games with. despite knowing him for so many years, you’ve never seen his face. which is okay with you—you’re not too social, anyway.

✉︎ can we play stardew val ⨾ you, kaori suzumeda, keiji akaashi. ✉︎ get ken out of the house challenge go ⨾ kenma kozume, tetsuro kuroo, bokuto koutarou, keiji akaashi.

taglist is open. smau/traditional. specific cw added at the beginning of each chapter. no update schedule. also, for the sake of the plot; fukurodani is not located in tokyo, but rather closer to karasuno! also kaori is a year younger than she is in canon.

★★★ ❪ INVENTORY ❫

⛶ Medkit : prologue.

⛶ Small Key : chapter one.

⛶ Map : chapter two.

FOR YOU ｡｡｡

↳ 「 osamu miya 」 ␥ 宮 治 .ᐟ

⤦ wc ⨾ 611

⤦ cw ⨾ no pronouns used, mentions stress baking, kind of hurt to comfort, i forgot how to write.

“what‘s wrong?” his voice, a soft murmur peppered with specks of concern, loud enough to be heard above the monotonous whir of the white fridge placed in the corner of the kitchen.

He rushed to your side, dropping everything, and calloused hands came into contact with your clothed back.

Despite wearing a thick jumper adorned by a delicate dusting of pills, an attempt to protect your skin from the sad bite of the cold, you could feel his fingertips surging small waves of heat through the dense material of your jumper.

Osamu had just come back from work. It was 12am—fridays are always busy for him. A thin layer of salty sweat coated his skin, reflecting a slight glow. He did not expect to come back to find you, a flushed face graced by a sad trail of tears, standing in front of a tray of burnt cookies.

You took in his smell—a subtle sweetness seasoned with the aroma of roasted seaweed—while you let out a soft sniffle.

Within his presence, the previous sense of panic has dissipated into thin air—every breath he drew out matched the melodious rhythm of your heart.

“Stress baking again?” he asked, his head leaning in closer as his eyes trailed the cookies spread out atop the counter, an ugly black furnishing the uneven edges. His hand never left the small of your back.

Your lips pursed into a thin line as you shook your head in agreement. Stress baking, again.

Osamu was tired. Every muscle in his body yearned for sleep—screamed for it. Anyone would be after working a 12 hour shift in a busy restaurant on a Friday.

The hand previously stitched onto your back removed itself—and you felt naked in the aftermath. Your head turned, eyes trailing his figure. He made his way to the fridge.

“What—what are you doing?”

“What do you think?” he turned around with a toothy grin, his arms hugging a few ingredients. “We’re baking cookies,”

You blink at him, furrowing your brows. “But you—“

“I’m craving some cookies,” a tired smirk etched on his lips as he approached you once again. He handed you the butter and sugar and went off to get the rest of the ingredients.

With a confused sigh and a soft sniffle, you measured out the ingredients into the mixing bowl previously laying in front of you and began whisking.

It was quiet for a while, until you felt warm breath fanning your neck and a pair of big arms wrap around your torso. His nose, now brushing the crook of your neck, sent shooting stars down your arms. His toned chest was against your back.

“Hey—“ You began, but he cut you off right away.

“We’re about to make the best cookies—ever” he mumbled into your neck, his voice carrying a hint of exhaustion. It was genuine.

Your eyes soften with a bit of water dampening them, guilt seeming to make its way into your chest, almost swallowing your heart whole. Making cookies after a 12 hour shift wasn’t the best way to wind down.

“I’m sorry you’re…you shouldn’t have to come from a busy day at work to bake some cookies“

He raised his head from your neck, arms still lazily wrapped around your waist, fingers intertwined and resting steadily in front of your stomach. “Hey, you better not be crying! I don’t want salty cookies,” he replied, pointing at the bowl in front of you with his head.

Osamu miya loved you dearly, and he was willing to prove that—even if it meant making cookies at 12am—because if it’s with you, he’d do anything. If it’s for you, he’d do everything.

@kameyyy