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donatellawritings · 8 months ago

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you should totally do boxer!rafe with shy!reader.

love you stinka 😘

love you more <3

you were as shy as they came, your palms hummed with nerves as they glazed over with clammy sweat, eye contact made your tummy swirl with anxious butterflies, and your chewed on your bottom lip or the smooth gummy inside of your cheeks, more often than not. so, it was pretty routine for people’s eyes to widen in obnoxious shock when you decided to take up being a ring girl — it was fast money that paid your bills and would get you through finishing college. although, you weren’t all too familiar with the sport of boxing, you figured that at least the cute outfits, no matter how skimpy they were, and the caked on makeup and bombshell hair could help you get out of your introverted shell.

you couldn’t help but blush, each time you strutted your tight little ass into the ring, your perked up ears not missing the inappropriate hoots and whistles that came your way. your plump lips swelled into a beaming smile as made your way around the ring, you tiny hot pants wedged between your soft ass cheeks and swollen tits pushed up in your skintight crop top, your pedicured feet slightly aching in your elongating shiny black pumps. before returning back to your ringside seat, your doe eyes flickered over to rafe cameron, the up and coming boxer from kildare island who seemed to have each and every girl wrapped around his bruised fingers.

you licked over your swollen lips as he sent you a wink, the blood that dripped from his gashed eye rolling down his structured cheekbone as he smirked at you. you couldn’t ignore the subtle ache that pulsed between your oiled and shiny thighs as he flexed his broad shoulders, before sinking his sharp teeth down into his dark red mouth guard.

“damn girl, y’look good!” a spectator whistled, breaking you from your trance as you exited the ring, prancing over to your cushioned folding chair, flipping your shiny tousled hair over your shoulder.

boxing had never been your thing, but you had to admit that there was payoff when it came to the eye candy you were subjected to watch, day in and day out. however, there was an unspoken rule that came with your job: do not date any of the fighters — it would make things muddy and far too complicated. i mean, what good could come from adrenaline-filled men who fucked as many girls as they won championships?

so, you took rafe’s lustful gaze with a grain of salt — you wouldn’t subject yourself from having to deal with the inevitable heartbreak that would come from having intimate dealings with a man, like rafe cameron.

pulling up the hem of your uncomfortably clingy top, you let out a small huff and you mushed your sticky, gloss-coated lips together. you loved your job, it gave you an escape, an in to be the girl who wasn’t pathetically timid and shy, to the point where you were flustered when holding even the most basic of conversations. yet, you still found yourself a bit secluded from your coworkers, and it wasn’t because you didn’t want to make friends — your coy nature and sheltered upbringing just made it that much harder for you.

taking a small breath, your swollen tits expanded against the fabric of your top as you took in the sound of rafe’s gloved fists cracking into the face of his pathetic opponent. you quickly got lost in the roaring crowd as rafe sent a blood-curdling punch across his weakened counterpart’s jaw, sending the ill-fated man to the floor as rafe cockily flexed his muscles, sticking out his blood-coated tongue as his bright pink lips stretched into a cocky grin.

𝜗ৎ

rafe loved the spotlight, he craved it — to hear people scream and clamor for him was such an aphrodisiac for him. you see, he was no stranger to being fawned over, he’d developed quite the reputation for being a hit-it-and-quit-it type of guy, a one-time lover that you could never seem to forget, or want to forget. but, he too, had his demons. rafe was hopelessly tethered to violence — it was the only fix that truly allowed him to express himself, in a way that thoroughly satisfied him and curbed his anger. i mean, shit, the young man fought so much, he figured he’d might as well get paid for it, not that he needed it, being the heir to his father’s hefty trust fund.

now dressed in light fresh sweats that loosely hung off of his hips, rafe watched with hooded eyes as the ring girls made their way through the dimmed halls — he’d fucked majority, if not, all of the girls, but you, you were new and fresh as a daisy— this was only your second fight. he could smell how nervous you were, a little shaky thing, but oh so fuckin’ pretty.

you just needed a little … conditioning. but, that was okay, rafe could help with that, no problem.

“hiii, rafe,” the cluster of girls sang, each of their enhanced lips spreading into ditzy smiles as rafe entered their line of vision. licking over his lips, rafe nodded in return, before flicking his fingers towards one of the girls.

leaning his head down, rafe sighs with feigned interest in the bottle blonde who stood cheerily before him, “y’wanna help me out, doll?” rafe smiled, watching as the blonde furiously nodded, before he could finish his sentence, “y’so sweet — uh, tell me, where’s that pretty spanish girl who works with you, huh? the real quiet one?” he questions softly, his eyes low as the blonde swallows down her jealousy, before taking a quick breath. rafe could smell the envy that loomed over the blonde — she was a quick fuck from about three months ago, who just couldn’t seem to take the hint.

“um, sh-she shouldn’t be that far behind — is there anything else i can do for you?” the girl answers swiftly, her bright eyes wide with hope as rafe’s eyes fall on you.

softly nudging the blonde’s chin, rafe maintains his million-dollar smile, “nah, thank you though, sweetheart,” rafe declines, his bruised and sprained knuckles stretching against his skin as he makes his way over to you.

a pretty little thing, like you, should never walk with her head down.

breathing out a sharp whistle, rafe can’t help but breathe out a laugh as you flinch, your doe eyes wide as you finally make direct eye contact with the tall man. you were way shorter than him, and he couldn’t help but steal a shameless glance at your deliciously pushed-up tits. rafe’s strained blue eyes didn’t miss the way your wiped the palms of your hands against the skimpy fabric of your tiny black shorts.

“y’don’t need to be scared of me, princess — just wanna properly introduce myself, yeah?” rafe coos, cocking his head to the side with parted lips as your throat bobs with a light swallow, before your dolled-up hair bounces with a subtle nod. “ah, gonna have to break you out of that little shell of yours, yeah?” he comments, gently nudging your chin as your swollen lips part with blushed cheeks.

with a low and mousey tone, you allow your name to roll off of the tongue, your eager bambi eyes set on rafe’s bloodshot blues, “i just, i am not used to putting myself out there,” you force out a laugh, your skin-hugging attire suddenly becoming too tight for your comfort as you find yourself fiddling with the hem of your ridiculously cropped top.

with a tilted head, rafe drinks in every part of you. from your introverted nature and nervous quirks, to the slight sing of an accent that coats your every word.

he couldn’t ignore the way his blood rushed to his cock as you crumbled under his unwavering eye contact, you were new territory for him and he needed to experience you in your entirety.

leaning in a bit closer to you, rafe allows his soft lips to ghost over yours, “want you to stick with me, princess — gonna have to show you how the world works,” he decides, lightly nudging your jaw, before pulling away from you and making his way back to his locker room.

you were left a blushing and slightly embarrassed mess as you found yourself mindlessly following rafe’s path — each and every one of your inhibitions dissipating with each step you pump-clad feet took.

little did you know just how underprepared you were for rafe cameron’s world.

#divider: milkware #asks #anon #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron x reader #obx imagine #obx #rafe cameron smut #boxer!rafe #shy!reader

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vrystalius · 1 month ago

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Giyu’s obsession.

He just can’t risk your relationship, so instead, Giyu’ll watch, steal, think and obsess over you. Maybe even steal your underwear.

Whumptober prompt: Obsession.

Pairing: Stalker!Giyu x gn!reader (reader wears a skirt though)

(Stalker themes, Giyu being a weirdo and pervert, mentioning of nsfw, jealousy towards Sanemi)

His eyes were glued to you whenever you are around. Subtly, of course. He’d don’t want to think that your best friend is a weird stalker that loves watching your skirt sway whenever you walk or how the sauce staining your lips made him wish to lean in and lick it fight off. It scares Giyu how his thoughts mushed together whenever you enter his sight or when he hears your angelic voice. At first, he fought these intrusive thoughts. He forced himself to keep his eyes off you while you trained, deciding consciously to instead stare at the ground and count the sand grains. That way, he’s still close to you and savouring your presence while also not staring at you. But as he’s nearing the hundredth grain, his attention began to wander towards the sounds you were making. Grunts, moans and hisses. His sight slowly moved towards your form and how you were moving. He could see how your muscles tensed and how your sweat was making your skin delightfully glister. A sight for sore eyes. Only for Giyu’s eyes. A sight he needs to see every day, every hour, every minute. His mind wandered further, indulging himself in the fantasy of seeing your skirt ride up, even just a little. He just wants a little, tiny sneak peek of your—

No. He can’t think of you like this. He shouldn’t defile your being like this. You view him as your friend, best friend, he should act like one, think like one, behave like one. And yet, his hands tremble whenever you are near him, sweat runs down his forehead and his lip quivers ever so slightly. Gods, Giyu wants, no, needs you. But he can’t, so he’ll get you in other ways.

Sometimes, he’ll sleep over at your estate. The water hashira’ll come to you and talk about these night terrors he’s been having and will ask to sleep in your guest room, just for the night. You always say yes, your kind soul can’t say no to his face and how sleepy he looks. Giyu’s dressed in his nightwear and equipped with his katana, nothing else. How can anyone say no to him? Especially a person like you. You’ll even tuck him to bed, your hand brushing over his forehead and through his strands, massaging his scalp. Your hand was moving so slowly and gently, his eyes immediately fall shut. His head’ll roll towards you and his arms wrap around your waist in his sleep, forcing you to share the futon with him that night. It’s just that he’s not asleep while pulling you against him. Giyu knows exactly what he is doing and how much he’s pressing his hips against your assets, how his arms were wrapped around you so tightly you could barely breathe. Yet, you never say anything, because poor Giyu is too afraid to sleep on his own. He has nightmares after all.

Other nights, after you go to bed in your own bedroom, he sneaks around your house, inspecting everything he can get his hands onto. He’ll drink out of your used cups and savour the taste of the water, insisting that he is still tasting just a hint of the taste of your lips on the rinds. Other times, he’s stalking around your bathroom, testing different products of yours. He’s desperately trying to find out how you manage to smell so intoxicatingly every day, and after searching through your cabinets for multiple nights, he still can’t find. Giyu concluded you just smell like yourself. Divine. Without the help of anything.

He’s searching through your laundry more than he liked to admit to himself. He’s searching and digging elbow deep for your sweaty uniform you wore during training. Giyu wants to smell and feel it, imagine what it would be like up close to you and how your skin would feel under his palms. His work paid off and he found something even better than your dirty uniform; your underwear. They got stuffed into his pocket quicker than he could think, saving them for himself. He was incredibly ashamed after finding them in his pockets once he returned to his estate. That was the point he stopped fighting his intrusive thoughts. He’s loosing against them anyway.

But something that Giyu always does is sitting outside your bedroom and just listening to your movement in bed and your cute little snores. He wonders, what would you do if you knew that he was being like this? Your best friend, the one you trust the most, is invading your person in so many ways than one. Would you like it? Gods he hopes so. He has done too many things to go back now, and he can’t stop. It’s a delightful addiction for him. One single time, Giyu got incredibly lucky. He sat outside your bedroom as always, his ear pressing up against your door. You weren’t asleep and he could tell, your sheets moving more than usual and your breaths louder, shakier. His heart started racing when he finally realised what you were doing; your moans, the sheets ruffling, the wet noises… he palmed the growing tent through his sleep wear, closing his eyes and concentrating on those sweets sounds you are blessing him with. Imagines appear in his mind, the memory of your training, sitting near him during hashira meeting, the smell of you, your underwear and your moans he was hearing through the walls, everything just melted into one, perfect and perverse imagine, the perfectly crafted fantasy he created for himself. Giyu suppressed a whimper that threatened to escape his lips after hearing you moan for the final time through the walls. You two finished together, on time. How will he explain the humiliating stain on his pants when he’ll ask you how to wash it out. Maybe he’ll get you touch and inspect the stain. The thought of you touching his— fuck. His mind wandered again.

Giyu is patient, very so, but he slowly can’t take it anymore. He needs you. He needs you now, or else he just might really go insane because of your teasing and your smiles.

You tease him with your smell, you tease him with the look you give him, you tease him with your damn body, you tease him just by existing. Giyu’s not the only one enjoying your presence either. He’s not stupid, he sees the way Sanemi looks at you or even talks to you, and how you smile around him. You can’t like him, you just can’t. Giyu might actually break if you do. He might do something he’ll regret, so please stop talking to that piece of shit. Or even better, just stop talking to anyone, ever. Just talk to him and nobody else. No lunches with Kyojuro, no hangouts with Mitsuri, no clinic visits in Shinobu’s estate, no nothing. Everything you do with them you can do with him.

Giyu needs you, and you only need him. If only you saw how much he’s aching for you…

🎃

Nobody requested or asked for this, but this has been on my mind lately. I’m ashamed of this and my cat sat on my lap while I wrote this, and I think she judged me a little XD But I hoped you all enjoyed this anyway, even though it’s different from what I usually write <3

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!

Take care of yourselves <3

Here re the lists of the event I’m currently writing for. I did not forget the other requests you all send in! I’m either working on them once I have time or once the event is over <3

Flufftober (fluff)

Fictober (angst, fluff)

Whumptober (angst)

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bits-and-babs · 2 years ago

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𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀𝐈𝐌 — 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 ‘𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓’ 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

↳ summary: prompt: “That’s so fucking hot.” — Paired with Ghost on a 'drill' mission, you get to witness his sniping prowess first hand.

↳ pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x f!Reader (Delta)

↳ [1k] content: 18+ MDNI. Utterly self-indulgent. Shy reader (because I fancied something different), firing guns, very vague power play, very light degradation (barely there but it’s there), fingering, cum eating (don’t know if this counts but I’ll put it anyway), Ghost is very skilled with a gun.

ghost masterlist I| main masterlist |I join taglist

Easterly winds trace the curve of your cheek and gently waft your hair across your forehead. The pitch blackness that hangs in the nighttime desert air swallows you whole, your defensive spot illuminated only by the waning crescent moon. It's fucking freezing, you're tired, and you'd been staring down a sniper's scope for over six hours.

You’d already decided that whoever thought a sniper drill was a good idea was going to face your wrath in the morning.

Settled into the sand grains beside you is Ghost's hulking frame. His patience is remarkable, settled on his front with his finger fixed on the hairpin trigger of the HDR. He's not moved once since getting into position, the vaguest sign he was even alive being the blink of his eyelids. He doesn’t even need to practise, and you’re convinced he’s been paired with you simply because he pities you being a shit shot.

"Do you not have pins and needles?" You grumble, the crosshair in your field of vision blurring into a shapeless mush after gazing at it for so long, "I swear I've got a dead leg."

"No." Simon's answer is definitive. You're unsure if you believe him at first, but he squeezes the trigger without warning. The gun cracks, firing its round, and you almost jump out of your skin at the sudden break of silence. "What the fuck, Simo-"

Disbelief stalls your loud complaint, the image of a body-shaped target with a bullet hole dead centre of the cross in the inner circle's fixed point making your jaw drop.

Simon settles back, shedding the shell casing from the HDR and effortlessly loading a second round. It's like breathing for him, the sniper rifle like a body part that worked as seamlessly as his arms or legs.

It slips out, your inner dialogue somehow managing to worm its way out of your lips before you can swallow down the mortifying comment.

"That's so fucking hot..."

Simon doesn't seem to respond at first, but your cheeks are already heating up in embarrassment as you try to backpedal. "I mean- I mean, I'm sure most girls at home would find that really hot! You must have so many girls asking you out when you go home- Half of Manchester, I bet!"

You laugh awkwardly, holding your own sniper weapon in a death grip. You wish the sand would sink beneath you, dropping you into the depths below.

"Not really," Simon's rumbling voice cuts through the desert silence. It makes your humiliation even worse, and you squeeze your eyes shut and plan to request a transfer with Captain Price the moment you return to base. Or even hand in your resignation letter. You'd never have to fear running into Simon on another team that way—

"Delta," Ghost's gruff voice cuts through your downward spiral. You open your eyes and glance over at him apprehensively. He's still staring down the scope of his rifle, mask concealing his expression from you. Undoubtedly he was enjoying making you feel stupid.

A heavy hand settles on the back of your thigh, and you suddenly exhale the oxygen in your lungs as though someone has popped the membrane with a pin. Ghost doesn't look up from the scope; his attention is focused on the target over seven-hundred meters away.

"G-Ghost-" Your voice tremors, and you wish you could blame it on the chill in the desert air. Instead, it's Simon's palm slowly tracing up your thigh, palm squeezing gently at the globe of your ass.

"Quiet," he orders, and you nod quickly, falling in line at the sound of his authoritative 'lieutenant voice'. He continues his advance, pushing his fingertips under the waistband of your khaki cargos at the small of your back.

Simon hesitates. He offers you a chance to wave him off, but you can't think of anything worse— he's touching you, sparking your skin hot beneath his slow, deliberate touches.

Breaching the waistband of your pants, he ensures that he inches his hand below your panties, too, fingertips tracing the naked curve of your ass as they continue their descent. You whimper softly, impatient, but the sound dies in your throat when you see Ghost's irises flick to you in a warning.

Quiet, I said.

Swallowing back any more noises of complaint, you spread your legs ever so slightly for him. A rumble of content sound from his chest, and Simon aims his sight down the scope of his rifle again.

Simon's fingers sink into your fluttering cunt from behind. The stretch alone has you biting down on your knuckles in an attempt to smother the yelp that threatens to breach your mouth.

What makes it worse is Simon's blatant nonchalance. He adjusts the positioning of his Sniper to mitigate the desert breeze with one hand. Meanwhile, his fingers sink deeper into you, easing in and out until you hear the slick sounds of your cunt swallowing his digits.

It's pathetic. Ghost'll probably taunt you relentlessly for it, but you rock back onto his hand as his fingers tease your spasming walls.

"O-Oh, fuck-" you choke out, breathless, as you lower your head and brace against the rising bliss in your abdomen. Again, Ghost's eyes flick over, cautioning you.

"I'm tryin'a focus," he scolds you flatly, pushing his thumb into your clit harshly. You yelp at the sudden pressure, the arc of pleasure that whips up your spine.

"W-What can you possibly be fo-ohh-" you moan out, losing your sentence as he slowly begins to circle your clit with his battle-calloused thumb.

"On this," Simon hums, and again the crack of his sniper rifle jolts your body in shock. Fuck- but he keeps rubbing at your clit, sinking his fingers deeper into you as he searches for your g-spot.

Your head whips up as your cunt flutters around his digits, looking down the scope. Again, Ghost has hit the target perfectly— slap bang in the middle of its forehead.

Honestly, you could have cum from that alone, but Ghost's fingers are retreating just as your orgasm surges. You whine loudly, looking over your shoulder to see him remove his hands from your pants despite your protests and use his thumb to push the bottom of his ski mask over his mouth.

Sinking his fingers into his mouth, he groans as he tastes you. It's the most sordid sound you've ever heard, the noise settling deep into your abdomen as you watch him lick his fingers clean.

Simon knows what he's doing, knows he has you on the edge of a mind-shattering orgasm, but ignores your heavy breathing and desperate gaze to nod his head at the target.

"Your turn. Best stop your hands from shaking, love. Get him between the eyes, and I might let you cum."

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lyssafreyguy · 7 months ago

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YOU'LL NEVER BELIEVE THIS: IT WAS PRETTY FUCKING GOOD.

besties me and my mom are gonna make this garlic butter rice I've had saved for forever for dinner tonight do we think it'll be good

#the recipe recommends long grain rice: FOLLOW IT. USING REGULAR WHITE RICE WASN'T BAD BUT IT DID TURN A TINY BIT INTO A MUSH™.

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paddedlittleparadise · 25 days ago

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When Words Have Two Meanings (Ream Teaser)

Little Andy's about to go to a birthday party for his fellow Little! But unfortunately, he's having a hard time convincing his Mommy not to interpret the party's theme in a very embarrassing way…

–––

"Nno- Mommy, no! It- it's not that kind of par-mmmmphhh!"

Into Andy's mouth the giant spoon went once more, forcing yet another wad of oily, gritty mush deep into his half-choking throat. He gulped, straining in his high chair, his hands waving helplessly as he muscled the icky goo down. He knew this taste all too well: the taste of laxative-laced oatmeal. But before he could even recover, his wife Lila – affectionately known to him these last four years as Mommy – gave a knowing chuckle and drove the spoon into the half-empty bowl for a fresh load.

"Oh, sweetie, hush! Don't tell me you really know better than Mommy now? You said your Little friend's birthday party is a wet and messy party, right?" Lila's green eyes twinkled, and deep between his messy lips went the loaded spoon again. "Now I can't speak for Charlotte's Mommy, of course. But any adult with half a grain of sense will know that, when it comes to two big babies like you, "wet" and "messy" can mean one thing and one thing only…"

She giggled over his gurgling protests, merrily oblivious to his discomfort. "You're my little stinker, after all. Aren't you? My sweet little super-soaking pampers packer. And if that's what Charlotte's Mommy wants this party to be about… well, we need to make sure you're primed and ready!"

Of course Andy tried to reason. But reasoning with Mommy wasn't exactly his strong suit at any time – and least of all now in this hapless position, locked in his chair, wearing his night-soaked diaper, and being forcibly spoon-fed his gooey breakfast. So he let out a sticky sigh… and down the hatch it all went.

After that? Down too went the contents of his one-liter bottle. Because, after all, Mommy cheerfully informed him that if he didn't drain it all quickly, she simply wouldn't have time to change him. And, well… rocking up to his Mommy's friend's house in a swollen – and probably by that time leaking – night diaper wasn't exactly on his list of favorite things ever.

"Hmm… you really think it's a party for messy play? Like finger painting?" Mommy was smirking now, glancing brightly backward from his closet full of onesies, shortalls, and diaper covers and giving her now freshly double-diapered husband a wink. "In that case, maybe I should just leave you like that: in nothing but your diaper. Surely it's better not to get your pretty clothes dirty…"

"No, no, it- it's okay," Andy hastened, his stuffed and already gurgling belly giving a little flip-flop of fear. "Please, I- I wanna wear something! I- I can stay clean-" Oh, he did! How embarrassing to show up with this waddly, stuffer-filled monstrosity of a double diaper on display for everyone to see?!

At that, Mommy let out a triumphant laugh. "Such a silly little thing," she reproved, tugging one of his newest onesies over his head and beginning to guide his arms through the sleeves. "Well, never mind that. At least this one will be appropriate no matter what! Oh… but of course my baby can't read!" She giggled anew, her fingers dexterously snapping the taut fabric shut around his bulging crotch. "See these words on the front? They say, "Mommy's Little Messmaker! And isn't that exactly what you are, sweetie?"

Well, Andy would have let out a disconsolate bleat of dissent. But Mommy was already stuffing his pacifier into his mouth and bending down, her lovely cleavage full on display within her sundress, and planting a warm kiss on his forehead. "Well, aren't you adorable! Now let's get going. It's an hour to your Little friend's house, at least – and we can't keep sweet little Charlotte waiting on her birthday!"

–––

Want to read the mortifying end to this little story – along with many, many other one-off, multi-part, and commissioned stories? We'd be delighted to see you over on our Ream (i.e., the Patreon that's NOT run by bigoted assholes). Lots of steamy, femdommy, diaper-y, BDSM-y, sissy-y goodness awaits! 😁

#paddedlittleparadise #diaper couple #female led relationship #ab/dl stories #ream stories

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notthecutesttrash · 3 months ago

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Grey (Pt. 2)

Warnings: Verbal + physical bullying, angst, language

Word count: 5.9k

PART 1, PART 3

In the morning you're about to run out before you see a little note next to a sweetly wrapped bento box on the kitchen table. It read, "I hope he likes it (: - Love mom."

God, that is so embarrassing.

But If your lies truly made her that happy, then fine, you didn't have the heart to stop it. You're just going to have to suck it up and wipe food out of your hair later.

Atsumu gazes longingly at you the moment you tread in carefully. He's even more smug looking then usual, if that's even possible. Worse is remembering that he's going to be coming by your house after practice. The nervousness spreads at the thought. You hope it runs late, or maybe he'd change his mind and decide it was weird.

Or maybe he could just ditch you and leave you with all the work. That idea didn't seem so bad anymore.

Why didn't you say Saturday or even yesterday? You had more than enough time.

The bell rings signaling a break. You grab your lunch and sigh.

The group of girls pass and Kiyoko sends you a grave scowl as if threatening what she'd do to you if you didn't follow. You stand up and exit the classroom, tailing behind them.

With a serious expression Atsumu observes their movements until you all leave.

Kiyoko leads you to one of the bottom floors no one goes to and signals a motion with her head. "Storage closet, now." You open the door for them, head lowered to the ground.

How pathetic. You're practically giving them an invitation to bully you.

You're slammed into the wall causing a topple of brooms and mops to fall at your side. Kiyoko holds you by your collar, and you still have your lunchbox clutched hopelessly in your hands. One of the other girls pulls it from you. There's a laugh when they share a gaze at the wrap.

"How cute. Your mom gave this to you?" One of them remarks, and you hesitate when the lid snaps open.

"Must've been. It looks disgusting."

Your back lifts then is slammed again, your head bouncing and hitting hard against the wall. Your knees collapse beneath you and an instantaneous sting is felt on your cheek after being slapped. Kiyoko's foot slams into your side and you hiss at the pain.

Just like that, your mom's sweetly cooked meal meant for your nonexistent crush pours over your head.

"And to think your poor mom is wasting her time cooking for you, what a waste."

The noodles are squashed into a mush at your scalp, mixing into your strands. Another kick hits your knee hard and you instinctively clutch it with a groan. A laugh erupts, and the empty box is slammed to the side. The door opens and they speak one last phrase to you that has you flinching.

"Just go die already."

Kiyoko scoffs when you say nothing, and the door closes.

A numbness swallows you whole.

You cried all your tears already, it wasn't anything new. The handle of one of the brooms falls into your lap, and a slop of spaghetti falls onto your shoulder. You glimpse up at the flickering ceiling light.

You'd usually take a few minutes to mull over the state of your life before you'd eventually get up, dust off your skirt, and go to the bathroom.

Cleaning the mashed noodles from your hair was as rough as cleaning out bits of wet rice grains. One by one, you pick it out, all while being forced to stare at your reflection. You hate how you look, and you wish you didn't have to see your pitiful face every time you went through this process.

Cold water pools into your hands and you splash it against your face. Wiping the sweat and grime off your skin was probably the only refreshing feeling that came of this, even if it was still pathetic. Your stomach growls.

"Yeah, I know.." You mutter to yourself, grabbing your bento to rewrap the cloth just as it was. All pretty and nice so your mom would never know how mistreated it was. Slapping your cheeks, you forcefully bring yourself to reality before going to class.

Your hand presses against your cheek, memorizing the glass window next to you. The trees are swaying, and it hurts a little that nothing in you even cared anymore.

"Why does she always smell like food every day?" A whisper is heard behind you. You sigh.

Thank god it was Friday. Even if 2 days at home didn't change anything from this reality, it was the only small escape you had.

Lazily waving, you greet your coach and the captain before starting practice. Lucy is the only one nice enough to grin at your arrival. You put your knee braces on and warm up. Your body is sore but you're still determined to stay on the team. This is the last hope you have to prove everyone wrong, you don't plan to mess it up now.

You take your position in the back and try to remember what Atsumu taught you. Knees bent at this angle, arms showing the front more, hands positioned like this, and you got it. When the whistle sounds you glue your vision to the volleyball. It flies over the net and you sidestep towards its direction.

Holding onto your breath, your arm touches the ball and sends it flying into the air. Lucy gasps and woo's, “Nice receive (Y/n!)" It takes you a moment to remember the game is still in play, but you're smiling happily. Miyu sets the ball and Angie spikes flawlessly against the blockers. A gleam sparkles in your eye.

"Don't get all excited, it was just one receive." Angie huffs, turning to you. You nod and get into position again. Lucy is serving, and hers are always difficult. Still, you don't back down, and you achieve your focus on the direction of the ball. It appears it's going to hit the side. Quickly it swerves towards you instead and you manage to bump it. Angie is blocked by two on the right, the left is covered by 1, and the center is in the back. Miyu jumps and eyes the left which makes the center switch direction.

With a thud, the ball falls to the ground. The whistle blows, pointing to your side, and the other groans.

"Seriously, a dump shot!?"

"I'll say, you even had me fooled." Lucy giggles, stepping to the next rotation.

Serve after serving you're effortlessly receiving the ball, and the excitement in your legs keeps up with the action. The adrenaline was making your heart stammer. You jump high to receive. Another spike is slammed your way and you dive, hitting the ball only with your wrist to send it shortly in the air. "Sorry! Cover!"

Miyu runs to your side and smacks it with her palm to send it up. It’s a little high, but Angie manages to spike it from the back, scoring a point. You throw your hands up in the air, wooing. Angie shoots you a small glare, annoyed, but not as harsh as the other days, and Miyu has a barely noticeable tug at her lips. The coach crosses his arms, seeming pleased.

You finally are back into your game. You aren't going to be the black sheep any longer.

Arms receiving a hard spike, the ball returns to the other side and Lucy spikes with all her might through the hands of 3 blockers for a perfect line shot. You run just in time and you attempt to receive it but it hits your side and bounces off. Combined with the kick Kiyoko sent you, it hurt a little more than you would've liked. A hiss escapes. Of course, just in time for Lucy to serve as well.

The volleyball is set in the air, and Lucy jumps to smack it down. It’s so fast your arms miss by a second and it flies past you. They score a point, and you breathe deep and concentrate. Lucy repeats the action, but you're there just in time for the ball. As you receive it, the force pushes you back and you hear a crack in your foot as it bends to the side. Groaning in pain, you clutch it desperately and the coach calls for a timeout.

"Are you okay (Y/n)?" A few teammates ask and you nod forcefully, pushing yourself to stand only to fall again. Lucy holds onto your hands to help you up and the pressure on your ankle cries out.

The coach has you sit on the bench. "It's just a sprain, no worry. Sit out for today."

There's a deep frown on your face. Fear and disappointment cascade on you. You're definitely going to be kicked off now.

The coach turns to you while you're lost in thought, wrapping your foot. A mind deep down a rabbit hole.

"You did well today." His tone is firm, but you know he means it. Surprised, you fixate on him and he's staring at the game ahead. A blush dusts your cheeks and you continue wrapping the sprain, a happiness blooming in your chest.

When practice ends you timidly apologize to Lucy who is walking your way. She pats your shoulder, "You did good today, don't worry. By Monday you'll be brand new again." You nod, blushing at the compliment.

"Thanks."

Comfortable silence falls, and you're just about finished wrapping your foot. All the girls left already, and you test your steps carefully, lightly applying pressure to your foot. It didn't hurt as bad with the cover which was good enough for you to walk home. You start humming happily while packing your things, completely lost in the clouds.

"Ready to go?"

The sound makes you squeak in fear. Your hand presses to your stammering pulse, and you see Atsumu smirking at your surprise.

You already forgot that was today, and you nervously shift your tone.

"Oh.. yeah.."

He waits for you to be a step in front of him so you can lead. God, why did you choose this option again? Yeah, maybe the girls would've been at the library, but they wouldn't do anything if he was there. You made the wrong choice. Ugh.

The walk is painfully awkward. it's silent, and feeling him at your side alone makes you incredibly nervous. He's pretty big and muscular for a normal volleyball player.

You perk to the sound of leaves swaying in the wind. Softly smiling, your hands grip your bag. You did something good today, the coach said so himself. This gives you the courage to speak. But.. mainly because the silence was becoming unbearable and you'd rather small talk at this point.

"How was.. your practice?" You shyly ask, and he appears a little surprised at the question. He snickers, and you pout. You knew it was a stupid question.

"Good."

Great keeping the conversation going (Y/n). It felt more unpleasant than before now.

He has that usual smirk, but his face looks relaxed. He takes his turn to speak.

"Heard you been receiving good now."

How fast does word get out? Sheesh. It must've been from one of the girls who hated you.

You scoff. "Let me guess, Miyu talks to you. Angie maybe?"

"No. Lucy. She seemed happy for you." Your face switches to shock. "I'm surprised honestly. Expected you to get kicked off the team. But I guess with my advice you made it hm?" He's annoyingly arrogant, but you're so caught up in the thought of Lucy being genuinely happy for you, her speaking to others about it, that you can't even notice. Your skin turns pink and warm.

"Yes, thank you."

He stops in place, and you're still walking, trapped in a daze.

"Hey." His harsh tone is enough to fearfully draw you out. You rotate to him, scared. Is this the time when he remembers who you are and bullies you?

Unexpectedly he pulls you close and his fingers graze your damp hair. You flinch at the contact, nervous, blushing at the closeness. He wanders beneath the layers as if searching for something. You're nervous, but you ease at the softness. You don't know what he was doing, or why, but it felt quite nice.

He swiftly pulls away and you blink up at his index and thumb that holds a piece of smushed-up spaghetti. You go blank, and he's staring at it the same.

He opens his mouth to speak. "Why do you have food in your hair?"

This was just about your luck.

"Oh look, my house is around here. My mom probably cooked dinner, I don't want to keep her waiting." Walking fast, you ignore him and keep your bag tight against you. He catches up to your speed promptly, silent, and your teeth grit against one another. You ignore him and fixate on the ground until you reach your home.

You stop in front of the home and bite your lip when your hand hovers above the doorknob.

Now you had to worry about your mom and dad embarrassing you even more.

You exhale a shaky breath. You just needed 1-2 hours, maybe even 3 and that was it. This would be done with, and the shame will die with you.

"Don't look so worried. I'm pretty good with parents." Atsumu has almost a relieving confidence in his voice

You nod and open it, instantly being greeted with a warm light. Your mother’s back is facing you, and she's at the stove, cooking. Your father wasn't home yet, he typically didn't come back till later.

"I'm home!"

You already know the moment that she turns around she's more than excited. Atsumu trails behind you, wearing a fake pleasant smile, and her eyes go wide.

"Miya Atsumu, a pleasure to meet you." He bows and your mother gasps.

"Oh, my-" You send her a quick glare that says don't you dare say anything bad. When Atsumu rose you fell into a smile again, giggling awkwardly.

"Come in dear, make yourself at home. You two must be starving." Your mother was already preparing the plates at the table.

You wave her off. "No Mom, really it's okay, we're fine."

She huffs, "nonsense. Come Atsumu, sit." Your brows knit together, and you open to deny the second time before Atsumu interrupts you.

“Actually, Miss (L/n) I am rather hungry, may I ask what you're making?" Atsumu walks ahead while you're stuck dumbfounded at the doorway. You scowl as he cozies up to your mother, and he returns your look with a smirk.

“I'm so glad you asked! It's one of my favorites actually." Your eye nearly twitches as he sits down, acting as if he's so intently listening to your mother ramble.

"It's rude to gawk (Y/n), sit down." She draws you out of the daze with a more serious tone. Yet you swear she's giving you the same smugness as he is.

You grumble incoherently, forcing yourself to sit down. Your mother stirs the food a little longer and then switches the heat off. Across from you, Atsumu is snickering quietly and, you're responding with a hardened glare. Once your mother turns, both of you are quick to politely beam as she sets the food on the table. You all share a pleasant thanks then begin serving yourself.

As awkward as this was, the moment the food touches your tongue, you're buzzing in delight. Your empty stomach greatly appreciates this.

"So tell me Atsumu, did you enjoy her lunch today?" Your mom chirps in.

You cough out, almost choking on a few grains. Your mother is smiling sweetly, completely oblivious. Here it was, this facade is going to be destroyed now.

"Yes actually. The spaghetti was wonderful." Your eyes widen as you fixate on Atsumu. He's mimicking that kind expression to your mom. and she's reveling in the fake news.

"You're going to catch flies if you keep gasping like that (Y/n)." She scolds you out of nowhere and he chuckles politely. You force yourself into normalcy, clearing your throat and eating, Truthfully you're greatly appreciating the lie Atsumu told.

You watch in your peripheral as he cracks a small joke that sends your mother chortling, a little too much. Although embarrassing, it was pleasant. He seems strangely at home and comfortable.

Atsumu offers to clean the dishes when dinner is finished and your mother waves him off politely. "No no, I couldn't ask you to do that. Don't fret dear, you two go upstairs and work on that project."

He nods, his tone filled with sugar. "If you need help at all, call me." It'd be convincing if you hadn't known how conniving he was.

"Oh my, what a nice kid." She nearly fangirls and you cringe. Once he rotates to follow you off to your room, that smug expression returns.

He lets out a tired sigh once the door closes, like being that fake was exhausting, and his eyes quickly turn serious. Admittedly, the thought of having him sit this close with you in your dimly lit bedroom, all alone, makes you feel.. sort of strange. You sit at your desk and take out your notebook, signaling for him to do the same

You're about to talk about the project details until you turn to see his darker expression. His tall stature or muscular build only aids in the way you shrink in comparison.

"Want to tell me why your mom asked me that?"

You still, mouth agape as you thought of what to say. Anything you'd say would only sound more pathetic than what he already thought of you. What could you think of that was better than your current situation? Gnawing at your bottom lip, you struggle to come up with a good answer. An awkward minute passes and you're still silent.

He slumps down next to you and sighs. "Fine, don't tell me."

You underestimated the space he took with the chair placement and his knee brushes up against your own. You pull away instantaneously, clearing your throat. His arm is nearly caressing yours and you shift uncomfortably.

“Um.. so, what part do you want to do?"

Atsumu ignores you to stare at your little pink standing pencil holder. His view then shifts to the stuffed animals on your bed, the color of the sheets, and the pink or rainbow pens you held. He stifles a giggle, and you turn a dark shade of red.

"Didn't think the teacher’s pet would be this type."

You shyly twirl your pencil around as you meekly ask, “What type?"

He leans back and smirks. "Pink, rainbows, little animal prints, you know, sort of the type to fangirl and go crazy over stupid things."

You mutter, annoyed. "Well, I’m not… I just like cute things."

"Good." He yawns obnoxiously, and you huff.

He is clearly getting way too comfortable, way too fast. If you didn't work on this now you'd have to do this weird meetup again. You peer at him expectantly. His hands cradle his head, elbows pointed out to opposite ends of the room. "Right." He remembers casually. "The project."

You nod. Yes, back to the topic at hand, finally.

"I already finished my side." He smiles and you blink in shock.

"What..?"

"Did it after practice yesterday, you know the day you were out "sick." He emphasizes that in a knowing way.

"Then..." You trail off, unable to find your words.

"I wanted to see if I was right about you. I have to say I’m pleasantly surprised. I expected neutral colors, not even a speck of dust, and zero decorations. I guess you're not as stuck up as I might've thought." He arrogantly speaks, and you're barely able to wrap your head around the situation. He acted like he wasn't done with his side, came over to your house, ate your food, cozied up to your mom, and entered your room, all to.. see your personality?

You ogle at him like he has 4 heads and he laughs. "Relax, it wasn't all for that, I'm not here to stalk you. We still gotta work together, it's not like i'd just be here for you alone." That comment kind of offends you but you ignore it.

It's quiet for a moment, and you straighten your back against the seat. "So.. what do you think I am then?"

He hums, then smirks. "You're a good girl. Sweet, and hardworking."

That shouldn't have made you blush like it did, and you avert your attention back to your work. Don't forget this is the man who made you cry only 3 days ago. He's just here to do minimal work and bully you.

"So.. do you want to merge our parts? Maybe you read mine, I read yours?"

Atsumu shrugs and takes out his notebook to slap it down in front of you. You give him yours and you open up his to find multiple pages, back and front of written work. He really worked hard on this.

He snickers at your shock. "Did you forget I have more skills than just volleyball too?" He taunts, reminding you of your previous comment. You frown.

"Sorry," you mumble.

You read from the top, and a few sentences in you're hooked to the way he writes so eloquently. The style is neat, and for being such an arrogant jerk all the time, he paid attention.

"It's not bad." Atsumu regards yours while flipping through the pages. "But you can work on your voice a little more."

You're visibly confused, and he further elaborates.

"This sentence, "if he was going to be out all day, then maybe he would-" it's too much over-explaining. You're losing the point in your nervousness." That is true.

"Just write "He is going to be out for the day." You glue to his words, nodding absent-mindedly. You lean to your notebook that's positioned closer to him, your arm brushing his unknowingly. He quietly fixates on you, and you point to another sentence.

"So.. like here, if I got rid of the "practically" or "really," then it will make the sentence more clear in this case?" You look up at him, eyes twinkling with some sort of excitement. He gazes for a little too long, and after a few seconds, he clears his throat.

"Yes."

You ah, but then slump.

"I like saying really's though. I feel like it puts more emphasis on something. Like if I were to say... I love ice cream! I'll say I really love ice cream, so they really understand how much I do." Your tone is energetic in a way he's never heard, and he can't help but smile.

"They'll know you do, just saying love is enough. Really, makes it a mouthful. Just make it simple. I love ice cream." The way you listen so intently to him has his eyes softening. You move to erase and rewrite, your lips pursing a little in concentration.

"Does that sound better?" You point your pencil to the new sentence, and he leans down to read it.

"Perfect."

You giggle a little and he gleams.

You blush and nervously fidget when you realize how hyper you're being. Your tone is a little more timid now, but it's eager as you point to another sentence. "Does this work together?"

"Try removing the "therefore."

Nodding, you hop back and forth between his writing and yours. His wasn't flawless, but you admitted, it was really good. He was so clear when he spoke, so to the point and confident, whilst yours was all muddled and scared.

You point at his sentence and compare it to one of yours. Erasing, you rewrite a sentence and shift the words around. You're so focused one would think he wasn't even there.

He's smiling and it begins to be a very pleasant exchange all up until he had to go.

Yet, after the exchange on Friday, no texts were exchanged with one another. You completed the project and that was that, no more communication.

There's a strange disappointment lingering in your chest. You wanted that, so why did it actually kind of hurt? Your mom even left you another nice lunch covered by a pretty wrap with a note nearby saying "packed extra for you and Atsumu to share (:" Shaking your head, you force yourself to move on to more important matters. All you need to focus on now is avoiding the group of bullies.

The bell rings, forcing you out of your thoughts. Rotating your head, Kiyoko catches your eye, and she grins evilly. She begins to remove herself from her desk. Here we go, you sigh.

You expect any minute for her to pass your desk, but she doesn’t, and you turn around, confused.

Kiyoko’s mouth is open in a gasp, and she’s paused, eyes glued to something moving. You follow her frantic view only to swiftly mimic it.

Atsumu was walking to you, directly to you. No, there was no way, right? That had to be wrong. He pauses a few inches from your seat, his hand holding his lunch. “Figured we’d polish our projects before tomorrow.”

“O-Oh, yeah of course.” You pull the notebook out that you had just packed up, and as you do that, you shoot a glimpse over to Kiyoko and the girls. She glares back at you a fit of fuming jealousy that knits her brows tight together. You’re relieved sure, but the fear of what they’d do to you once the period ends and you have 0 protection sets a pang of discomfort in you. But.. at least just for today, you can eat your food and not have to return to class with wet dirty hair.

When you’re not looking, Atsumu eyes the girls and they jump, their expressions changing from scowls to fear. They swiftly turn away.

“Here.” Atsumu places his bento on your desk, and you blink, confused.

There’s his smug smile, but it was softer strangely. “We wouldn’t want to disappoint your mother.”

You blush. Right.. that was true. He picks up yours in the cute cat wrap and chuckles at the pattern. Those were also now softer, and you hated to admit that it sent you the right kind of anxious butterflies. He unwraps the box and opens it, finding just enough food for 2. He is taken aback, yet eases quickly after, smiling sweetly. The sweetest you’ve ever seen, it's like you weren’t even meant to see it.

You shyly unwrap his and before opening it you nervously look at him. Opening your mouth to speak, his hand gestures to you. “Don’t ask if I’m sure or not, just eat it.” Although his tone was firm, it wasn’t as harsh as it always was either. You nod timidly and open it.

The smell of fried shrimp, sushi, and rice hits your nose. It was delicious looking, and after not having a good lunch for about 2 weeks, tears nearly protrude from your eyes.

“Thank you!” You hold your hands together and grab the chopsticks greedily. You slept late again. The dread of going to school last night kept you up enough to not be able to eat a proper breakfast again, so this was heaven-sent.

He takes a bite of your food and then pauses when he sees you scarfing up his meal like it was your last. Eventually, you catch him staring, and your face goes red. Bowing your head you shout, “Sorry!” and nonetheless, continue aggressively eating. He snickers to himself.

A few women in the class are almost frozen, their eyes deep-set in hatred and growling.

“He refused the lunch I made for him..” One girl mutters sadly to her friend who is also sunken.

“She’s eating his lunch.” Another girl across the class whispers.

“The nerve of her. He probably cooked that with all his time and love, and she’s inhaling it like a monster!” You’d think tears were running down this one’s face, she was that dramatic.

You clear your throat and place the cover onto the empty bento. The embarrassment is only now rushing to you when you realize Atsumu is only halfway done.

“Um.. thank you.. for sharing.”

He hums in acknowledgment while chewing on your mother’s cooking. “Tell miss (L/n) I loved it.” You blush and nod.

“I will..”

Kiyoko was practically twitching in a fury. She would get you back for this, whether you liked it or not.

Usually, you take your time to pack up your things once class ends for the day. You were always the last one out, but that always gave you some peace of mind. The hallways had a few students aiming around for who knows what, and there were no noisy bells or chatterers.

Today is a good day. Your stomach is happy, and you’re able to bring home a realistically empty lunchbox to your mother. No lies are to be created about how you shared it when you truly didn’t. Your hair is perfect, your clothes are clean, and you have a dull ache in your chest as you think of Atsumu sitting by you and eating. Why? You aren’t sure.

But you’re humming joyfully, feet walking slowly as a smile stains your face. Your foot is healed now, so you’ll be able to play. With the advice he gave you, you’re receiving plenty too. Prancing outside, you take a turn, making your way towards the gym, now nearly skipping in delight. The trees are wavering again, and the smell of sweet grass pierces your smell pleasantly.

You’re about to take another turn until you hear a voice that makes you stop dead in your tracks.

“What is taking so long?”

“Are you sure she didn’t take another route? Or go home for that matter?”

“She’ll be here, relax.”

Your heart speeds in your throat, and your feet feel anchored to the ground. They don’t see you yet, if you run they won’t know. Just turn back now, quietly, and you’ll be free for today. Walk slowly and avoid them. You silently rotate your legs, afraid even the dirt beneath you will make an obvious sound.

Your eyes meet with one of the girls in your class, and you frightfully gasp. Her hands are on her waist and she’s smirking. Your shoulders are shoved hard and a yelp escapes as you fall to the ground. It’s enough for Kiyoko to see your figure, and that same devilish grin stretches ear-to-ear. Panicking, you try to scramble away only for one girl to step behind you and threaten any further movement.

Kiyoko meets your terrified eyes, and she’s snickering, tilting her head.

“What, you thought you wouldn’t get your treatment today because Atsumu-san sat by you?” she scoffs and you’re shaking your head desperately.

“You know he only is doing this because of the project right? Tomorrow it’ll be back to normal, he won’t care anymore, and you’ll be treated the same old again.” Kiyoko giggles, and you’re eyes are still wide in fear.

Your shoulders are being held down by the girl behind you, and Kiyoko’s smile suddenly drops. A slap makes your chin turn from the impact, the sting burning into your cheek.

“I thought of something fun today.” Her hands grab at something behind her, and there’s a sharp gleam as she fixates on you. She pulls out a pair of scissors and you flinch when she holds it up to your throat. She reaches around to pull your hair, angling your neck into it. You don’t dare gulp or inhale, and you’re gritting your teeth at the pain of her fingernails digging into your scalp.

She angles her lips at your ear, whispering darkly. “I’m going to make you look more hideous than you already are. Then no one will look at you.”

Her tight grip leaves. You breathe in relief before she grabs a fistful of your locks and opens the scissors wide.

It’s about to snap shut on your hair before she speaks again. “If you talk to him again I’ll-“

“You’ll what?”

Kiyoko’s fingers waver, and she immediately becomes as stiff as a board. Her breath hitches, and your view is blocked by her body until she moves to the side, her grip on your hair escaping. Instantaneously the pressure on your shoulders releases too.

Atsumu is there, standing a few feet away from your forms, hands pressed to his waist. His eyes are serious and he’s not even smiling like he always is. You’re just as surprised, and you almost fall back to the ground without a stable grip on your shoulders.

“Ah,” he hums, a fake unpleasant lightness in his voice. “I knew well this was going to happen after I disturbed your little lunch get-together.” He tilts his head to the side, the ending of his words darkening. “Didn’t I?”

Kiyoko and the women are stammering, shaking, unsure of what to do or say. “A-Atsumu! I-I-” He motions his arm up, and his expression dulls coldly as he makes a closed fist. They mutually shut their mouths like they're being trained.

“To think you squealing pigs made me miss out on practice because of this.” His tone is low, an unquelled irritation bouncing in each syllable. They flinch, unexpecting him to sound so harsh. He sighs, slumping his form. It’s silent for a few seconds until he looks up again, a grave darkness shifting in him.

“You disgust me. Now get out of my sight.” His words come out like a screech in the silent atmosphere, and their breaths halt in their throat.

The one behind you instinctively dashes on her heels and sprints fast. Another near Kyoko does the same, a third following her until she is the last remaining. She stands peering at you and him, and he’s glaring as if prepared to rip her to shreds.

A frustration boils in her face and she forces herself to throw the scissors onto the ground, making you flinch. She can’t even muster a sharp glare as she looks at you. Instead she seems frustrated, ashamed, and hesitant. Her fists ball and clench tight before evidently leaving.

You’re still stuck replaying the horrific scene, and a terrible silence erupts. Atsumu’s glower disappears, and he’s suddenly above you, holding his hand out to you.

Pathetic… you're so pathetic.

You smack his hand away and his eyes widen.

“I don’t need your help.”

You pull yourself to your feet even if it hurts, revealing your back to him.

Anger. Embarrassment. Sadness. Disappointment. When you would go home today, you’d Slam your bedroom door shut, curl into your sheets, and weep into your pillow.

But for right now, your soles remain anchored to the ground, adamant on showing him that you aren’t just going to be a baby and cry, even if tears are threatening to escape.

You spoke as firm as can be, your voice cracking a little. “Just go away.”

It takes a moment before you can hear him finally walking away. All you can imagine is that his uncaring smirk is back like nothing happened.

A minute or two passes, and when you’re sure he’s gone, tears stream down your cheeks. You wipe them with the end of your sleeve, sniffling helplessly.

You just want to go home.

#x reader #fanfic #angst #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #bully x reader #anime x reader #miya twins #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #x female reader #anime

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gay-dorito-dust · 1 year ago

Note

Hellooo!<3 I

So I was hoping if maybe I could get some head cannons of Bi-Han having a s/o who has ADHD, his s/o has medicine for their ADHD they just don’t take it simply out of spite. His s/o could be found being bored by like almost everything, but the second you give his s/o for example paint in a bag they will be quiet for hours on end just messing and playing with it.

Is this accurate to the adhd experience? Probably not. Did I claim it would? Nope, I didn’t guarantee anything as i don’t know how adhd actually works. So take this with an EXTREME grain of salt cuz most of the info comes from the nhs website. 🦦

Ooc Bi-Han? None of this fitting his character? Probably so but I’m too tired to even care. 🦦

Bi-Han was made well aware that you hated taking your meds and would even straight up act coy when the topic on whether or not you had taken your meds came up. So much so that he’d probably see to it that you do take your medication on time but seeing as he was Grandmaster, he’s not granted the time to monitor your medication, seeing as how you often refuse to take it out of spite. (Not babying. Never babying, your a grown ass adult.)

So he’s grown use to seeing you lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling in pure boredom, feeling every single second that painfully passed you by that even minutes felt like hours and hours felt like days to you with how fucking bored out of your mind you were. Nothing you did held your attention long enough to satisfy that part of your brain, not the games on your phone that you lost interest in second after downloading, not reading as you could barely get past the prologue never less the first chapter; not even the toys that you purposefully bought for this exact reason got couldn’t satiate your brain.

On a side note who reads prologues anyway? I know I don’t cuz I’d rather get straight into it.

You were so fucking bored that even saying that that you were bored was becoming boring in of itself. But Bi-Han knew of your one weakness; paint in a bag. An even bigger weakness of yours would be if the bag contained two or more different colours that make an entirely new colour when messed with enough.

Or even the kind where you get to choose how many colours you want to put in the bag and go fucking apeshit with it to your hearts content. For the physical changing of the colours were both equally fascinating and captivating that you could go at it for hours on end and not grown bored.

Bi-Han accommodates you however he can, changing up when needed and when you’ve grown tired of certain things that once held your interest. He knows he can be a dick sometimes but never when his beloved is in need to help them throughout the day. So when he had given the bag of paint, you were immediately zoned in moulding the colours together and spreading the paint as far into the corners as you possibly could, and all without an word passing from your lips as your brows furrowed in concentration like you were making a masterpiece.

Anyways, Bi-Han is well aware of your inability to finish a task, so naturally what you put down to pursue other tasks, he picks up and finishes for you. He’s your calm and he would never hold anything against you…unless it actively puts you in danger then that’s an entirely different thing entirely.

He’s also the person who seemingly knows where everything you put is and so whenever you ask for the whereabouts of your keys, your shoes, socks, whatever. Bi-Han would always direct you as to where they are or just keep ahold of them until you inevitably ask and you press a kiss to his cheek in gratitude.

During situations where you’re in deep stress or in need of an outlet, he’ll get you your paint in a bag to help you destress and let out any frustrations your had onto mushing the paint together forcefully. If it helps you during times of boredom then he believes that it will also help you in times of stress and discomfort.

You and Bi-Han were so different from one another that you just work well together, you honestly had no clue where you’d be without Bi-Han being the more levelheaded of the two of you in certain stimuli and being a massive help with your frequent bouts of boredom, your inability of prioritisation, and everything else your ADHD came along with.

He withheld an extreme amount of patience, probably from all the training he’s done his entire life and the lessons he’s learn from them about timing and all that. So when you interrupt him, he just lets you speak your entirety without making you feel like shit about it; but to Bi-Han if you wanted to speak, then he’ll let you speak and listen to you fully to everything you said.

Everyone wants to be listens to right?

Bi-Han would also probably act as your personal reminder, writing down or verbally telling you things that you had clearly forgotten that you were doing some days, whether that be appointments if, you have them, hangouts with friends, date plans, etc. you found it fascinating how he could remember so many dates, times, events and other things you’ve agreed to in the past as you’d naturally forget; or if ever on the off chance you do remember but just come extremely late or on the wrong day.

Bi-Han is use to lonesome and monochrome cold silences but when you entered his life, it was like he could see, taste and feel the colour of life warning his ice cold heart. He wasn’t use to it but overtime he found himself not wanting to go back to the life he lived before you, not realising how desperate for company he was until he was devoid of it.

Will he admit it to you though? No, he’s got a reputation to uphold after all but that don’t he won’t shows he cares in other ways.

Ignore if you don’t agree; Things that I’d like to think are in the same vein as paint in a bag or things that would defiantly hold me up for a good while:

Lava lamps

Liquid floor tiles

Water filled stress tube toys (especially the bigger ones that have like glitter and all sorts in them. I want one now. :( )

Pens that have the liquid stuff in them. (we all know your not buying them cuz they’re pens but for the entertainment value that the liquid gives. I should know cuz I use to have a lot of them as a kid. My go to pen for obvious reasons.)

#mk x you #mk imagine #mk imagines #mk x reader #mk x y/n #mortal kombat 1 x reader #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat imagine #mortal kombat imagines #bi han imagines #bi han imagine #bi han x reader #sub zero x reader

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theloveinc · 2 months ago

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single dad!sakura x reader - a continuation of this!

(warnings: drabble, ANGST, mentions of pregnancy termination, alcohol... + etc.)

"You know," Sakura begins, red faced as always, the flush this time caused by the copious amounts of alcohol he consumed when out with his friends, his first hangout with them without the baby in months. He's laying on his side, sprawled out diagonally across the bed where he first fell after barely making it into his room.

"Hm?" you respond, folding fresh laundry by his feet; all cloth diapers, bibs and rags with various cartoon characters on them, stained with remnants of mushed carrots and hardened grains of rice. You had mumbled, watching as the drunk man flailed around after landing on his face, that you'd leave soon as you finished the shore, but now you're thinking you better stay until he can at least keep his head up.

"I wasn’t gonna keep her."

Your eyes immediately shoot to him, where he lays with his face just barely peeking out of his favorite lumpy pillow. "What?"

"I thought…you know," you don’t know, and have never heard even an inkling of such a thought out of Sakura’s mouth before, not even as a joke. He's been quite candid about the suddenness of his daughter's appearance in his life, but it's always brought up as a happy thing, the way he says it, never... like this. "I grew up by myself and, and so I know my kid coulda—”

“Sakura,” you scold, trying to get him to stop. You want him to stop, but as the words keep slipping out, the man slipping deeper into territory you're most likely not welcome, you can't help but listen.

“I was jus’ going to sign my rights away, I-I was fine with the idea of termination—but then I saw her there, alone in that empty room full of cribs, little hands reaching, but no nurses coming, nothing—"

You put down the purple onesie, shrinking down next to him on the bed, letting your head fall into your hands as you watch him blab. He opens his eyes, full of tears, and swallows something thick and sticky that coats his lips when he wipes his mouth on the pillowcase.

"—and she looked like me. And I couldn’t let her go to a home even if mine wasn’t any better. I'm not any better than my parents, y/n, I'm such a shit. It, it, it eats me alive—"

He grabs the fabric of your shirt and stretches it to him, the tears now spilling over his lower lashes and onto his cheeks. Sakura weeps quite often, in between and over this whole raising a kid thing, but those tears are mostly of frustration that she's still not sleeping through the night and randomly started hating her favorite baby food he bought a month's worth supply of to stock up on... not the tears of absolute self-loathing he's currently wiping onto your sleeve.

"Shh, shh," you try to comfort him, reaching a hand to the back of his neck to pat his shoulder. It's not okay, not by far, but he's three beers too drunk for this to be the right time to talk about however he felt when his baby was first born. You can't imagine what else went on in that hospital room, nor what he was going through his head the first time he strapped his daughter into Nirei's car so he could take her home, but you do know the girl is safe and asleep in the next room over, and he's only gonna spiral him if you let this keep up.

#sakura #sakura x reader #stopped abruptly because i was only going for a drabble #but you know ... if i keep these up im sure you'll see more #caitie post #gen #single dad sakura #kids tw

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ughgoaway · 6 months ago

Note

I’m the anon who asked about requests earlier!!! Ik feeling uninspired/writers block is tough and never a great feeling but just know that myself and soooo many others will DEVOUR anything you write — even if you don’t love it lol.

I had a thought if teacher girly maybe when she’s pregnant or just after he’s born and her and Matty playing him Mattys music for the first time and him having a positive reaction. Maybe him smiling or laughing for the first time and Matty getting so excited (and maybe tearing up a bit lol). Little Annie is singing along of course. And it’s just all mush and fluff lol

ahh, you are very sweet, my love. writers block does suck, and I really hope I'll start feeling better about everything soon!! luckily, your idea was so cute that I was able to write a little bit!! It's not great, but I'm just glad it's something lol <3

also, this is one of my favourite things ever with babies, I love when they react to their parent's voices and start giggling and dancing!!

(p.s. All my baby development knowledge does come from Google, so take this with a grain of salt. Also, this is extremely sappy sorry lol)

✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿

So, baby boy is generally a very smiley baby. He does kinda early at about 6 weeks. But when it comes to laughing, he's stubborn. You, matty, and the boys do everything to try and make him laugh, pulling faces, tickling him, laughing around him to try and get him to copy you. But still, he just smiles.

“Annie was such a giggly baby. Why are you so grumpy, hmm?” You hear Matty whisper to Arthur in his crib one night as he's putting him to bed, tickling his belly lightly in an attempt to even hear a tiny giggle. Still, he doesn't laugh, but he does give Matty that familiar gummy smile and starts pulling at his hair. which, in turn, makes matty laugh, freeing his hair from Arthur's grip and kissing him on the head before he leaves.

Eventually, you settle in bed, and Matty can’t help but bring it up, “it's been over 2 months since he smiled, and he still won't laugh. Annie used to giggle whenever she saw my face,” Matty said grumpily.

“Maybe you just had a funnier face back then,” you joke, but Matty doesn’t even really process it. He’s too deep in thought as he's flipping through the various baby books you bought. He wants to check if Arthur is just doing it out of spite or if you need to see someone.

“Matty, he’ll laugh soon, I promise. Just be patient, my love.” you pull the books out of his hands and settle yourself on top of him, not in that way (although Matty would love that) in the way you do when he's overthinking and just needs to feel something other than his own heartbeat pounding in his chest.

He sighs heavily and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you both down until you're practically fully lying on top of him. In the early days of your relationship, you used to be worried you'd crush him when he asked you to do this. But after a lot of reassurance, you’ve just started letting yourself relax, knowing the pressure of your body on his is the easiest way to ground him.

/////

Matty tries to forget about it all for a few days, but you can tell he's still thinking about it. The only thing that gets his mind off it is going to the studio, something he’s not properly done since Arthur was born. You tell him over and over again to go and make music, but he is insistent on staying with his little family for as much time as he can before he’s whisked off on tour again. But after months of badgering, he crumbles and calls George for a little studio session.

“But promise me you’ll call me if you need me, yeah? I don't want you getting all stressed out, s’not good for you” Matty says for the thousandth time that morning. You give him a peck and assure him you'll call the second you need help before shoving his keys in his hand and waving him out of the door.

You, Annie, and Arthur decide to go on a walk whilst he is out. She stands on the back of the pram as you push, and Mayhem quite happily trots beside the three of you. It's a lovely day, so when you pass an ice cream van and Annie flashes you those eyes, you immediately crumble and buy yourself and her ice cream. You end up with three ice creams, though, as the man in the van insisted on making one for mayhem too. Free of charge, of course.

Annie can't stop giggling as she watches Mayhem inhale the ice cream in about 2 bites, wagging his tail wildly the whole time. You send a video to Matty, making sure to show baby Arthur watching with a big smile, but still not laughing. You caption it, “Even mayhem can't make him laugh. He's definitely just being stubborn. sounds like his dad tbh”

Matty loves the video, showing it to George with a big smile on his face and sending a jokey message back about being hurt that you got ice cream without him. But it does reassure him a bit that he's not the reason Arthur's not laughing. The world just clearly isn't as funny to a 3-month-old.

Matty comes back a few hours later, walking into the house to see you and Annie colouring on the floor and Arthur having tummy time next to you, staring at the coloured pens with wide eyes. You can always tell the studio session went well when Matty comes in with an iPod.

He insists on downloading all the half-finished songs on there so he can come home and show you as soon as possible. He says the iPod adds nostalgia and that's why he can't just play it off of his phone, but you think he just likes the extra drama of setting the iPod up and connecting it to the speaker.

So when he comes home with that familiar pink iPod in his hands, both you and Annie perk up. “Daddy, can I plug it in pleaseeee?” Annie asks, fluttering her eyelashes in the way she knows will always make Matty do what she wants, he nods and passes it to her, settling next to you on the floor and pressing a kiss to your lips.

It's a bit more intense than you usually get at 3 pm on a Tuesday, but who are you to complain when your musician boyfriend comes home from the studio and kisses you in a way that makes your head spin?

Your hand moves to his cheek as his settles behind your neck, pulling you in impossibly closer and using his tongue to trace the seam of your lips. Just as you open your mouth to welcome his tongue, Annie comes over and squishes herself between the two of you, holding the remote for the speaker in her hand with a cheeky grin on her face. Matty scoops up Arthur in his arms before he lets Annie press play, smiling down at him and letting Arthur’s hand surround his thumb.

Before long, Matty's voice starts coming out of the speakers, and you feel your muscles relax by themselves. It's a beautiful song, his soft vocals surrounded by a mix of acoustic guitar and piano.

The lyrics are repetitive, but not in the way pop songs on the radio have. It makes you feel familiar with the song like you've heard it a thousand times over, even if it was your first time listening to it. It felt like that same warm blanket you've loved all your life being laid over you one more time.

In typical 1975 fashion, the beat is addictive despite it being a slower track, and you can already see Annie swaying beside you and getting into the music.

Matty starts singing along without thinking, and soon enough, Annie joins in, too, their voices together making you grin immediately. But a new voice soon joins the medley, little Arthur giggling at his dad's voice and swaying.

You and Matty freeze as soon as you hear it, eyes meeting each other as Annie keeps singing and moving obliviously. Arthur stops when Matty does, but after you nod softly at Matty with a smile pulling at your lips, he starts singing again and right on cue, Arthur’s soft giggles start back up.

“Ohmygod” Matty whispers, his wet eyes swapping between you, Annie, and Arthur cradled in his arms. Annie quickly takes notice of the mood shift, looking concerned before you assured her that they were good tears.

“your brother is laughing sweetheart, go look!” you say, rushing her over to stand next to Matty. She scrambles up, moving as fast as her little legs can take her so she can stand by Arthur’s head.

You slide into the spot she left, leaning your head on Matty’s shoulder and watching as Arthur starts giggling and smiling as soon as Matty starts singing again.

Annie claps and starts laughing back, which only makes baby Arthur laugh more. Eventually, he’s laughing so hard his little eyes are screwed shut, and Matty is so excited he can't stop smiling and singing along to keep his laughter up.

You Facetime Denise immediately, and she's smiling and cooing down the phone at the three of you. At first, you only text the boys, but after many demands for a video, you end up just facetiming each of them and letting them watch Arthur's face light up.

George comments about how he must really be Matty’s son because they both love the sound of his voice, which earned him an eye roll from Matty and a laugh from you and Annie. After that, Arthur won't stop laughing. Everything is suddenly hilarious, and you and Matty couldn't be happier.

Anyway, this is extremely soft and sappy, oops! <3

#ace... writes something???#unheard of at this point!!!#sorry if this is ass #I'm rusty lol #but I love my teacher au babies!!!#anon!#teacher au!

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diremoone · 1 year ago

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cherry on top.

fushiguro toji x reader

in which your boyfriend of the last three years treats you to a birthday that he thinks you more than deserve :D

w — no curses AU, implied! Rich! Toji, a grain of angst, hair length isn’t specified but it’s enough to make a small bun, mentions of chubby! MC, and the hope that the fluff rots your teeth 🤭 not the best thing ever written by my hands but I love it anyway

a/n: happy birthday to me! this would’ve been out sooner today but I got a lil bit sick 😷 i’m unfortunately another year older but maybe another year closer to finding the man that’ll treat me like toji does mc in this fic haha. enjoy y’all’s reverse-birthday present lmao. this is a lil bit of self-indulgence btw so if it flops that’s why (but hopefully you guys like it too). I also tried to do accurate research on irl locations of the places that are mentioned, so I’m sorry if something isn’t correct 🙈

You don’t like the shake on your shoulder that wakes you up, nor the soft whisper of your name dropping from your boyfriend’s lip. You like it even less when you open your (very notably) tired eyes and look at the clock and see what time it is.

“What the fuck, Toji?”

He grins at your mumbled swears. “Happy birthday, cupcake.”

You know for a fact you have junk in your eyes, your hair’s a mess, your breath is borderline rancid and needs brushing, and that you overall look (and feel) like you just crawled out of a sewer completely deprived of sleep. So how this wonderful man squats beside the bed and combs his large fingers through your hair and gets his face so close to yours to attempt to kiss you is beyond your comprehension.

You cover your lips with the blanket, making him chuckle.

“Let’s celebrate, yeah?” Toji says, then stands to his full height. That’s when you notice that he’s dressed in regular clothes. “Gotta show my woman how much she means to me, don’t I?”

You quickly pull the blanket over your head to try and diminish his efforts. “If you wanna show me how much you love me, then let me sleep all day.”

Toji laughs as you snuggle into the pillow under your head. But the more you dig your cheek into the pillow, the farther away your ability to fall back asleep seems to be. You dig your nose into the soft material and let out a heavy sigh, hoping he doesn’t hear.

He’s won. “Come on. I’ll help you get out of bed and get ready, if that’s what it takes.” And when he chuckles after, you know he knows he’s won.

Toji lifts you by your outstretched hand to get you sitting on the edge of the bed, then proceeds to do the little things to get you ready that make your desperately-tired-but-desperately-in-love heart turn to mush.

Toji turns the sink on to get it warm so you can clean your teeth and face. Once you’re done, you realize he’s already got clothes already waiting for you to change into (one of his shirts that’s super baggy on you and a pair of red-pink floral leggings) on the bed. And once you change, he’s got your hairbrush in his big hands. He slowly combs his thick fingers through your hair, gently untangling the knots and brushing them out with minimal effort and pain.

You admit you nearly fall asleep again to his touch without shame.

“Don’t fall back into sleep,” Toji’s deep voice rumbles, which only soothes you further. “The day hasn’t even started yet.”

“You’re right,” you reply, yawning loudly. “It’s not even dawn yet.”

“Daybreak will be here when we get to the car,” he comments.

“Nice way of saying I’m slow,” you mumble.

Toji chuckles as he ties your hair into a bun, the stray baby locks being too short and left to dangle by your cheeks. He takes your smaller hand into his, and you still can’t help but feel flustered knowing how much bigger and warmer his hand is in comparison to yours is (read: you can’t help but feel flustered knowing you have someone holding your hand so sweetly with a hand as big as Toji’s).

There’s a small breeze when you step outside. And sure enough, Toji’s assumption is correct: the sun is starting to break over the horizon by the time you walk out to the car.

“Told you so,” Toji jokes.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help but grin, too. “Shut up.”

He opens the car door for you like a gentleman, to which you feel your cheeks warm up in embarrassment.

When he starts the car and grips the wheel, it’s then he asks, “Where do you want to go for breakfast?”

You immediately know where you want to go. And you feel you know Toji knows, too. It’s been a place you’ve only been to twice because of how expensive it was, but it has the best waffles you’ve ever tasted. The thing about it though was, if you went, there wasn’t going to be a way for you to control your appetite.

You look to Toji, lips in a straight line as you internally debate with yourself.

“You have to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Don’t laugh at how much I order.”

Toji chuckles at that, to which you send him a playful glare. He holds his hands up in mock surrender, the scarred corner of his lip quirking up.

“I promise.”

“Or how I eat.”

“I’ve seen how you eat, don’t worry.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Toji takes you to the fancy breakfast-only restaurant you murmur in embarrassment under your breath. And you were right: he already knows. Because the place was where you originally met—Toji’s umpteenth time with Megumi, while it was your second and last time.

Until today.

“You want me to take you here more often?” Toji asks.

You have a mouthful of syrupy waffles shoved into your mouth when he asks. You can’t help but feel embarrassed over the sudden focus on you while your cheeks are stuffed and puffed up like a chipmunk. But you nod anyway, slowly chewing the waffles and swallowing them.

“Don’t slow down on my accord,” Toji adds.

“You’re gonna make me fat,” you accuse jokingly.

Toji shrugs. And when that damned smirk appears on his face, you know he’s fixing to say something you aren’t gonna like.

“So what? You look good with rolls. More for me to love and grab during-”

“SHUSH!” you whisper-scream, eyes bulging out in hopes no one around you heard what he was implying.

The buff man only chuckles and smiles wider, happy with making you as flustered as he has.

You both end up stuffing a gut (on Toji’s even more overstuffed wallet) on the breakfast food before you two move on. Whatever he has planned next has you two driving for a good while after breakfast, which eventually leads you to ask, “Where to now?”

“To Narita.”

“Why?”

“To do one of the things you do the least,” he replies with a smirk.

You go blank. You admit to yourself you have no idea what he’s talking about. You try and think on it, and when he pulls into the Aeon Mall, a small lightbulb appears over your head. You look at him incredulously, while Toji looks extremely proud of himself.

“You’re taking me shopping?”

“Surprise.”

You belt out a small laugh. Of course. Of course this man would take you shopping. Of course he would do something that you felt so uncomfortable doing.

Shopping for yourself hadn’t been something you did for yourself often. Or really at all; only when you really needed to.

After being financially strapped for most of your life, from childhood until recently, you hadn’t spent much on yourself. You didn’t treat yourself to the finer things in life, even when you could’ve. And it left you empty, without a desire to be kind or do things for yourself. It left your birthday without luster, hollow, and without purpose, which led to you being so… uncaring about the day.

The day Toji, unknowingly to you, loved the most. Because it brought you into this world, into his and Megumi’s life. He’d be damned if he was going to let you act like it was just another day of the year.

Fuck that. His bank account was more than big enough to treat his woman to a proper birthday that she more than deserved.

Those thoughts were only reaffirmed by the bug-eyed, awestruck look on your face, your pretty eyes lighting up with a childlike wonder he’d only seen less than the amount of fingers on his right hand. He loved seeing it.

Oh yeah, he was going to spoil the fuck out of you.

You turn to him, mouth ajar with a twinkle in your eyes. But something crossed over your face for a split second—an emotion he knew too well: guilt.

“Toji…”

Fuck. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one little bit. Not the look that crossed your face, even for a second, not the sound of your voice as you called out to him. He wasn’t going to let your goody-two-shoes, guilty-feeling heart spoil his goal of reigniting your appreciation for your own birthday. Nope.

Toji wraps an arm around your waist and presses a sweet peck against the top of your head. “Don’t even try and do that shit—feeling guilty and all that. You ain’t taking advantage, woman. Now go shop. I ain’t got these big arms for nothing.”

“You aren’t my sugar daddy, you know,” you reply, brows raised with lips quirked up in amusement.

“No, I’m not. I’m a rich man that loves his woman and wants her to have the best birthday she’s had in years and take a massive chunk outta my bank account,” he boldly retorts. He grins that familiar, shit-eating grin, dips his head and neck and presses his lips against your cheek, and drags you forward, deeper into the mall. You can only help but throw your head back and laugh.

You spend several good, long-ass hours in the mall; a few hours pass what is considered lunchtime before you two do enough shopping that you both have to go back outside to the car to pack it with what has been bought before you can even think about getting anything to eat.

“What do you want for lunch?” Toji asks, stretching his burly arms before leaning against the car.

Your reply is instant, “KFC.”

Toji snorts, chuckling. He interlaces his thick fingers between yours and leads you both back inside.

Another few hours are spent buying clothes, a fluffy blanket you eyeballed and Toji was going to buy no matter how much you told him to put it back, and a few plushies of some of your favorite Pokémon. On the way home, Toji surprises you again by going to Mister Donut and practically taking half of what the store had. You died laughing in the car afterward because some of the other customers got offended as they watched him take so much.

“Toji, you shouldn’t have taken so much,” you giggle behind your hand as lean back against the door. “You seemed like an asshole.”

He smirks, holding the wheel with one hand and using the other to pinch your cheek.

“Don’t give a shit,” he laughs. You playfully swat at his hand. “You said you wanted donuts earlier, so you’ll get some donuts.”

“I didn’t mean the entire store.”

“Shoulda been more specific then.” Toji winks and the smirk on his face grows even wider.

The sky is painted beautiful oranges, pinks, and blues by the time you arrive home. The sun is setting beneath the horizon, under the green land and leaving behind the lights of the city and glitter of the stars dancing in the darkening sky to light the world. For some reason, it’s more… breathtaking than you remembered. You’d often spend time outside as the sun set, thinking nothing of it.

Maybe it was because of today.

Your eyes flicker to your boyfriend and the massive muscles of his arms bulging against the black shirt as he takes everything you’ve bought inside, and you can’t help the flutter in your stomach and the quickening pace of your heart.

Maybe it was because of Toji, and him making your birthday the most special it’s felt in years.

The smile that makes your lips go from ear to ear doesn’t go unnoticed by the black-haired man when he comes back outside. Nor does the sniffle and the backs of your hands wiping away at tears sliding down your cheeks. It makes Toji’s lips pull into a slight frown. This isn’t what he was expecting. Nor what he wanted to see.

He slides an arm around your shoulders, tugging you to his muscled chest.

“You ain’t supposed to be crying, baby,” he mumbles, big hands rubbing circles on your back to soothe you. “Come on. I’m going to start dinner. Shouldn’t be cryin’, sweetheart.”

“I know,” you mumur back, burrowing yourself deeper into his comfort, “but I’m not sad. Thank you Toji. Today has been the best birthday ever.” You stand on your tiptoes and press a sweet kiss to his cheek. “I love you.”

He stills, eyes widened slightly in surprise. You don’t make anything of it until the moment comes where you try and break free of his hold moments later and he doesn’t budge. Your brows furrow, and just as you’re about to ask him if he was okay, he cusses under his breath.

“Fuck it. Megumi can be the ring bearer.”

What he says doesn’t click until he gets down on one knee and pops open a small emerald green box, with a heart-shaped diamond ring nestled inside of it. Your mouth drops open and you feel eyes burn with more tears.

“[Name]—”

“What the actual fuck?”

You both laugh. Toji’s head drops as he sniggers at your foul language upon him getting on one knee; you laugh at yourself, at the reaction that came out of your lips faster than your brain could process.

“I don’t deserve you,” you whisper out, holding back a flood of tears.

“Nah, I’m the one that don’t deserve you. You’re fucking perfect. Who wouldn’t want you?”

You don’t deserve him, but he wants you anyway. Holy shit. This was really happening, wasn’t it? Were you about to say ‘yes’ and have a fiancé? Eventually become a married woman and help your to-be husband raise the sweetest, most adorable boy you’ve ever met? (It’s not like you aren’t already. You’ve heard him call you ‘Mama’ once through a phone call. Toji tried covering it up with a cough; you haven’t brought it up since.)

Toji clears his throat, regaining your attention. When you look down at him again though, he seems more nervous—all his moxie down the drain.

“So… Marry me?”

Your hands cup his cheeks and press your lips to his. He wraps his free arm around your waist, tilts his head to the side slightly and deepens the kiss.

You love him. You absolutely love him. There’s no doubt in your mind that you love him and your heart belongs to him. There’s no one but him by your side in the future you see. Every inch of you belongs to him, and he wants to belong to you just as much.

So, you pull from the kiss and whisper against his lips, “Let’s get married, baby.”

“Fuck yeah.”

You yell out in surprise as he picks you up with one big, strong arm and takes you inside. You wrap your legs around his waist in reaction, desperate to not fall.

But you know Toji wouldn’t ever let you fall. Not in a million years.

“Wanna go to the bedroom first?”

“You horny motherfucker.”

“Only for you.”

“Just put that ring on my finger and cook.”

He sets you on the counter like you’re porcelain. He takes the glimmering ring from the little box and slides it onto your ring finger. A perfect fit. You hadn’t even told him your ring size. His eyes are trained on it for several seconds before he mumbles, “Belongs right there.”

Whatever dessert he makes tonight, nothing will top this moment. This is the cherry on top to the sweetest birthday you’ve ever had. If whatever you went through was to get you here, to meet the man who’s the love of your life, you’d do it all over again.

@heresan here’s the birthday fic 🤭 i’ll get back to you vv soon, the last two days have been wild 👀

#toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fluff #jjk fluff #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji

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silantryoo · 1 year ago

Text

BONUS [ LIKEALOOK ] — peace.

jang wonyoung and l/n y/n's dorm room, first year.

WARNINGS ; self-deprication, imposter syndrome, inferiority complex, mentions of verbal abuse, physical injury, miscommunication, anxiety (2.2k)

worth.

wonyoung knew it was determined by the littlest things. the weight of gold per ounce of her father's gold ring, the clarity of her mother's diamond, the designer clothes she wore. every small thing added up, like the grains of sand on the beaches of jeju island.

worth was determined by how well she played, how many centimeters off the ground she could jump, and how her dad's unwavering grimace morphed into to a satisfied glint in his eyes.

to her, worth was volleyball. worth was academics.

it was the sinking feeling in her chest whenever she got anything less than ninety percent, or the slight shake of her coach's head whenever she let the ball slip past her fingertips. it was the doctor appointments where her mother would sigh disapprovingly at the x-ray's her worn-down knee or the mandatory two-month break that followed.

jang wonyoung knew worth like the back of her hand because it was everything she lacked.

jang wonyoung was worthless.

her knee started acting up during the sixth game of the season.

hongik university was a rough team to go against. the game was fast-paced, suma barely able to keep up. hongik was quicker, taller, and faster than them. before wonyoung or jimin could even jump, hongik's opposite had already sent the ball barreling into their side of the court.

yeji had been yelling throughout the entire mess, her frustrations piling up, hot and volatile like lava spilling out from an active volcano. jimin had tried to calm the girl down, alongside ryujin, but yeji had ended up cussing both of them out into silence.

(wonyoung wondered what their captain had said to her senior to make the middle blocker so quiet.)

in all honesty, yeji scared wonyoung, her sharp eyes and her permanent snarl made the younger girl feel naked, like all her fears were on display. the captain always felt like she was about to combust any minute, and although it was never directed at her, wonyoung could feel it, like a cloud of toxic gas engulfing her.

wonyoung looked at yeji, their eyes meeting.

yeji didn't need to say it. she blamed wonyoung.

wonyoung looked away, a sinking feeling in her chest. there were times like these when she felt like she didn't belong. she wasn't tall enough to be a middle blocker, or strong enough to be a hitter. she wasn't even fast enough to be a defensive specialist.

what was wonyoung but a nuisance to yeji? to the team?

she heard the whistle, her thoughts disappearing into nothingness. all she could feel was the guilt that threatened to spill out of her chest like her father's lies, and the painful aching of her knee that creaked similar to the attic floorboards.

she could see the ball's shadow underneath her, the weight of the world suffocating her as suma's serve went over the net.

she looked over to jimin, her senior deep in focus. wonyoung just needed to jump faster - harder - this time. she needed to make jimin proud, to prove to her that she belonged.

she needed to belong.

at that moment, she pretended. wonyoung jumped faster, meeting the ball, her arms strong and unwavering. she needed to be strong, unmoving, fierce.

she just needed to be like jimin, just this once.

she watched as the ball bounced off her forearms, her feet landing harshly on the floor. wonyoung felt the impact rattle her insides, her knee turning into mush as she stumbled back, luckily caught by yena.

she could feel the discomfort running up and down her leg. wonyoung knew that feeling, like the blood that ran down her leg when she had tried to learn how to bike by herself. but it didn't matter, not when hongik went silent, not when the referee whistled in favor of them.

wonyoung looked at jimin, pride coursing through her veins and hope glimmering from her eyes.

oh.

jimin didn't need to say it. jang wonyoung was worthless.

y/n had entered their dorm, sighing as her girlfriend was nowhere to be found.

earlier, she had gotten a text from ahn yujin as she was making her way down through victor hall. the notification itself was enough to annoy y/n, and although she knew yujin and wonyoung would never do anything, y/n didn't like the fact that the older girl had a humongous crush on her girlfriend.

y/n stared at the text, walking back to her and wonyoung's dorm with a frown etched on her face. she analyzed the words over and over again, yujin never stating why, but just informing her that wonyoung would be gone for another hour or two.

despite her jealousy, y/n knew her former classmate well enough to know it was probably some afterparty that the seniors had thrown. she just wished wonyoung would have told her instead.

y/n lay on wonyoung's freshly made bed, scrolling endlessly through her phone as she waited for her girlfriend to come back.

it seemed like hours, but she occupied herself by texting jimin, the girl telling her to patiently wait for wonyoung. jimin had reassured her that wonyoung was most likely at the afterparty yena was throwing, surrounded by idiots and that yuna had probably confiscated her phone again.

she knew that was the most logical answer, but there was something wrong. y/n could feel it.

she stared at the ceiling, turning off her phone as she looked at the door. she could feel herself drifting into darkness, the smell of wonyoung invading her senses as her phone dinged nonstop, she knew none of which was wonyoung.

the freshman didn't know how long it had been since she had fallen asleep, but she woke up to the soft creek of the dorm door, and wonyoung's voice bidding who seemed like yujin goodbye.

she sat up out of wonyoung's field of vision, but y/n could make out the side of her girlfriend's face, and how it immediately dropped as soon as she closed the door.

any other time, y/n could sense the shift in the air. it wasn't uncommon for wonyoung to come home as an empty shell, her body barely functioning.

y/n was the only one who cared enough to notice, who cared enough to listen and sit with wonyoung.

she made wonyoung feel like she was worth something.

"you should've texted me." y/n could feel her arms, heavy against the air as wonyoung turned around.

wonyoung stared at the girl.

she had gone through the motions with yujin before she had entered her dorm. wonyoung couldn't figure out how to not disappoint the girl of her dreams, and tell her that the reason she was gone for four hours was that yujin had to drive her to the clinic and get her knee checked.

y/n always said she didn't care as long as wonyoung was healthy and happy, but wonyoung cared that she wasn't perfect enough for her girlfriend.

wonyoung watched as y/n's eyes swirled with anticipation, but there was a hint of anger.

she could feel a knot in her throat.

the middle blocker hung her head low, tears streaming down her cheeks as she stood in front of the door.

wonyoung wanted the comfort of her blanket, and the throw pillows inside her closet. she wanted to close her eyes and feel the rays of the sun on her skin.

she looked up, her eyes blood shot as y/n rushed over to her.

"i'm sorry." the taller girl muttered, picking at the side of her thumb.

y/n wiped her tears away, and wonyoung felt like she was back at home, wrapped in a blanket as her nanny sang her soft lullabies.

"don't cry, baby." wonyoung's nose scrunched up slightly as y/n kissed it. "i'm not angry, i'm just a little annoyed."

annoyed.

the word rang in wonyoung's ears.

y/n was annoyed at her, just like jimin was while their coach checked on wonyoung's knee, and when yeji had reassured the younger girl that she couldn't do anything about a knee injury.

she didn't know what she had done to get jimin so upset. all she knew was it felt like her parents had forgotten her birthday all over again.

"i know." wonyoung sniffled, tears flowing down faster than before.

y/n could feel worry bubbling in her chest as wonyoung tried to blink the tears away. she hated when the volleyball player tried to act okay, like she needed to be put together all the time.

the older girl led wonyoung to her bed, wrapping her in a blanket as the cold air nipped y/n's knuckles.

wonyoung's body wracked as her sobs became louder.

wonyoung didn't know anything outside of being perfect. she knew she was the furthest thing from it. her jump serves were sloppy at best, and she ran a 7:56 for her mile last week. her side of the room was always messy, and if it weren't for her girlfriend, she would've drowned herself in cheap wine while she cried in the bathtub.

still, people envied her. she was the daughter of a news anchor, of a politician. she got into one of the most prestigious post-secondary schools in the world, and she had y/n.

but how could she be perfect with an injury like this? how could y/n love her if she wasn't perfect?

"what's wrong?" y/n's voice was as smooth like the singing wonyoung longed to hear from her mother.

a lot of things were wrong in wonyoung's life. she could list one for every second that she had sat in that stupid waiting room, suffocated by the smell of the latex and sanitizer.

she rubbed her knee, a sinking feeling hurling through her body as she felt the athletic tape beneath her pants.

"i hurt my knee."

wonyoung was on the verge of tearing the cartilage in her knee from overuse. the doctor had said that he was surprised there hadn't been a tear like last time, and that she would need to rest for a month.

a month was too long, wonyoung decided. but this, just like everything, was out of her power.

"is that why you were gone?" y/n kissed her shoulder, and wonyoung could feel herself calming down. "i'm so sorry, baby. i didn't know. how bad is it?"

wonyoung looked at her for a second, expecting her to scream, yell, maybe even curse at her for being so stupid, but all she saw was worry and love in the older girl's eyes.

she didn't know why it made her sadder.

"i can't play in the next four games." wonyoung's voice felt unfamiliar to herself, like she was hearing her voice inside a movie theater.

y/n looked at wonyoung, the taller girl's crying coming to an abrupt halt.

"oh..." y/n was scared for her girlfriend, even if she didn't understand what anything meant in the world of volleyball. still, she'd support her wonyoung until the rivers ran dry. "maybe that's a good thing, right? you can rest, and focus on stuco duties with minju-unnie and-"

"it's not a good thing."

wonyoung could feel the side of her thumb bleeding as she scratched more and more into it.

this wasn't a good thing, because good things never happened to her. she wasn't a good person. she was selfish, two-faced, and all the other things her mom would yell at her at the top of her lungs.

wonyoung could feel her throat closing.

"i know, baby," y/n could feel wonyoung's back tense. she was spiralling. "but what i'm saying is that-"

wonyoung felt helpless.

"y/n." her voice was barely above a whisper, her mind finally processing what was happening. "i can't play."

the middle blocker could feel a sob spill out of her mouth, her head hanging low as y/n wrapped her shivering arms around wonyoung.

"breathe." y/n's voice was home. y/n's arms were home. "you can, and you will. you'll be fine. you'll be okay."

wonyoung couldn't understand her through her sobs, but she felt seen, not in the way that the media saw her or the way her parents and maids saw her. it was unfamiliar, like the first time y/n had kissed her.

she felt heard.

she looked at y/n, and sobbed harder.

"i can't play."

there was something so indescribable about y/n, and wonyoung wanted to love her the way that a person should love another, the way her parents never loved each other.

"i know." y/n was wonyoung's light at the end of the tunnel. "i'm so sorry, baby."

her cries eventually faded into hiccups, her head wrapped nicely under the blanket that smelt like her girlfriend. her eyes were swollen, and her cheeks red.

she looked at y/n.

there was never a moment in time that wonyoung hadn't feared losing her. she wasn't perfect. her lipstick would sometimes get on her teeth, and some days she'd be so busy that she'd forget to eat or sleep.

but y/n stayed because she was wonyoung's and wonyoung was hers.

"i love you."

jang wonyoung was worthless, but she loved l/n y/n with every fiber in her body, torn or not.

"i love you too, wonyoung."

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