#its a Drabble dump day

[rodolfoparras]

Thinking about all the ways you can comfort Price | 18+, MINORS DNI

Content tags: boot worship, oral fixation, cock warming, Top!Male Reader,

Something goes terribly wrong on a mission leaves Gaz injured, has Soap almost captured- could’ve almost ended with Ghost getting killed in action.

He’s usually good at staying composed- that is his job but not this time around. He crumbles so easily under the weight of everything and prays and hopes you catch him

And of course you do.

You do so when he comes knocking on your office door while you’re writing reports, his eyes glassy and lips wobbly.

You want to say something- anything but you also know what he needs right now so you gesture for him to come over, as you roll back your chair from your desk to make more space for the burly man.

He falls to his knees and eagerly crawls over to where you’re sitting.

There’s still a teary eyed look in his eyes, cheeks just as flushed and lips tilted into a wobbly frown as he kneels in front of you.

But just as your hand curls in his hair, you see a small shift in his face. Wobbly lips parting in expectation and the flush on his cheeks bleeds out into his ears as if feeling flustered about something.

He already knows what’s coming and so do you as you pull him face first onto your crotch. A “thank you sir” escapes his lips before eager hands unbuckle your belt, fingers expertly unzipping your pants, pulling them down along with your boxers before taking your cock down his throat.

His glassy eyes shut close and something akin to a sigh escapes his nose as his wobbly lips suckle on your cock.

He’s in no hurry to get you off- matter of fact you don’t expect to cum at all- not that you mind as you roll back your chair in place making sure not to disturb him too much.

Every once in a while you’ll stroke his hair, praise falling from your lips as you work your way through your reports. He’ll respond with a hum or a nod, or not say anything at all, lost in his own world but at least his mind is silent in this very moment and that’s what he needs the most

He’ll even come to you late at night, and crawl under your sheets while you’re sleeping, expecting even then for you do catch him. The sudden action startles you from your sleep but you don’t panic, body and mind already knowing it’s Price. You can hear his heavy sigh and smell the cigar smoke on his clothes, and as you turn around to face him your suspicions are confirmed.

He’s sporting a wobbly smile, eyes watery and cheeks flushed. You can already taste the familiar words of comfort dangling at the tip of your tongue but you know those are not the ones he wants to hear so instead you sigh before you tell him turn around, palms cupping and spreading his behind.

He’s already prepared himself, all you have to do is slide into him. You roll your hips ever so gently and hold him oh so steadily. The goal isn’t even to finish its to have his body close to yours. He wants to feel your arms around his waist, your breath washing over his neck, wants the weight of your body to anchor him to the world. Once you’re all done he’ll beg you not to pull out, at least not now, says he needs to feel you close, needs to feel you inside. So you do as he says, pulling the sheets over your bodies while staying inside of him, kissing him gently on the cheek and drifting off to sleep.

It’s not just the sex that brings him comfort. It’s the intimacy of it all and that’s something you learned early on in your relationship. He just wants to know that you’ll be there to catch him when he falls- wants to know that you’ll be there to catch him before he’s even got a foot over the ledge. And you will. You always will.

And sometimes catching him means letting him clean your boots.

“Kneel” You say and just as the words leave your lips he falls to his knees, already grabbing the supplies and propping your boot clad foot on his thighs.

There’s no sign of tears as he undoes the lace, no frown on his lips as he grabs ahold of a brush to clean the grim off of the leather. The only exchange of words is the tidbits of praise you’ll give to him, to which he’ll only respond with a hum or a nod, feeling too content to even talk, mind finally silent and focused on something other than his fuck ups. By the end of it, your boot is glistening and he’s ever so gentle as he puts your foot down onto the ground.

Eventually he does speak, the words “thank you” falling from his lips as he buries his head in your stomach or thighs, breathing getting heavier as his hands ball up. For one second you think that you’ll finally feel the wet sensation of tears hitting the fabric of your jeans but when nothing comes you cup his cheeks, and look him in the eyes as you tell

“It’s alright” you know he’s listening but you also know he isn’t registering what you’re saying, head clouded with fear and worry.

“Not your fault” you say to him as you bury your fingers into his hair as if hoping to detangle the fears and worries from his head.

“Did all you could, John “ you say, hand ever so gentle as it caresses his hair.

Eventually his breathing will even out, eyes closing shut and for a moment his worries fizzle out.

At some point those same fears and worries will start bubbling to the surface again but you’ll be there when it happens, you’ll always be there

[heirofnight]

blueberry scones & lemon squares

pairing: azriel x reader

word count: 1.4k

summary: azriel spends his morning reflecting on various places he's lived throughout his lifetime. his thoughts quickly reroute back to you, his true home, and he reminisces on how you both met.

a/n: another drabble / stream of consciousness that took on a mind of its own. i really enjoy these! i only skimmed over this once, so it's lightly edited. sorry for any other mistakes i may have missed. this one made my chest hurt though - in a good way.

home.

az had resided many places during the course of his lifetime. but, as the years progressed, he'd come to realize that home was not solely determined by a physical structure with four walls - not just a place to lay his head and wings after a long, grueling day, or after returning from missions with bloodied hands and a dagger in need of sharpening. no, azriel's true home was always marked by wherever his brothers were. and now, wherever you were too.

the house of wind. another home of his.

azriel stood atop the balcony connected to his chambers. it was early dawn, the sun just beginning to rise into the morning sky. misty clouds carried on a breeze idled by, so close, az truly thought he could reach out and grab a piece of one for himself. if he squinted hard enough, really focused, he could make out the city of velaris and the sidra river, glowing like melted sapphire, far below him. could see the smoke of chimneys rising to meet the clouds as the city and its patrons began stirring for the day.

he stretched his large, membranous wings outward, letting the sunlight bathe them in warmth. his breath escaped him as visible white puffs, the autumn chill inescapable at the high altitude.

az regarded himself as a self-reflective male. his mind never stopped, and unfortunately, he was not ever able to fully escape it. this morning, he lazily cycled through thoughts regarding the places he'd called home. his early childhood, with his father and step-mother. never a home, he'd thought, leaving that memory behind as swiftly as it'd presented itself. windhaven, where he'd been dumped at eleven years old. his lips quirked up as he recounted his first memories of cassian and rhysand. the way in which they'd quickly become brothers. rhys' mother taking him in - the cabin where so many memories were made. a home.

he took flight now, shooting directly into the blazing sky. puffs of clouds caressed his arms and wings as he ascended right through them, a tickling sensation that he'd never tire of. now, he thought of you as he inhaled deep breaths of fresh, crisp morning air.

the way you both met. your father owned a bookstore right in the middle of the rainbow in velaris. an older business that was well-known and well-loved within the city. it had been destroyed during hybern's attack, and when it was rebuilt - a task that you'd had to heavily convince your aging father of - you'd added on a bakery to the renovated structure. one half was now a quaint pastry kitchen, designed with small café tables that extended onto the boardwalk overlooking the sidra, swirling gold motifs atop white marble, and glass display cases full of baked goods that you'd hand-make each morning. the other half was reminiscent of your father's original bookstore, and while he was still involved, you'd opted to largely take over the business so that he could rest and enjoy the fruits of his labor from afar. this was the first storefront of its kind in velaris, and everyone was smitten. including feyre and nesta.

feyre was absolutely infatuated with your glazed blueberry scones. on several occasions, you'd arrived at the bakery hours before opening to fulfill large-batch orders of them for various events that she'd ask you to cater throughout the city.

nesta, on the other hand, adored the attached bookstore. several times a week, she'd meander through shelves of first edition texts while feyre and rhysand browsed your daily selection of baked goods. nesta would always purchase stacks of books, as many as she could bare to hold within her arms. sometimes, if the group would opt to hang around for breakfast, you'd catch her flipping through her recent purchase, carefully cradling a scone in her other hand.

feyre had given az the task of picking up another large order from your bakery the day that you both met for the first time. azriel began to recall that day as he flew higher into the skies, his heart swelling at the memory.

"six boxes of glazed blueberry scones," his high lady had told him. "and if she has any fresh lemon squares, please pick one up for rhys. he becomes an insufferable baby whenever i return without anything for him." az had huffed out a laugh in response, nodding once to affirm he'd handle the task presented.

he made his way down the boardwalk to the front of your shop, making a mental note of how nicely the renovations had come along since that awful attack on the city. pushing the door open, a small bell tinkled above the doorway that his tall frame had to slightly crouch through. you'd appeared from the back almost immediately, flour dusted along your nose. you wiped your hands on a small towel, looking up at him to offer this beaming smile. a smile that he remembered, even now, being absolutely winded by. "hi!," you'd greeted happily. "you're here for feyre's order, right?," you'd moved towards a nicely-wrapped stack of six pastry boxes, sliding them along the counter for him to grab.

he briefly remembered reminding himself that he was meant to actually move forward. 'grab the boxes, grab the lemon square, and leave,' he thought to himself, feeling absolutely ridiculous for floundering in the presence of such a warm, pleasant female. he'd nodded towards you, approaching the counter. he'd had to tuck his wings in tight against him to comfortably fit within the spread of café tables. once reaching you, he'd cleared his throat before speaking.

"a lemon square too, please, if you have one," his voice steady despite the way his chest felt. you let out a precious, tinkling laugh. "ah, must be for the high lord. feyre's told me of his outbursts if she forgets to include them in her orders.", you shook your head affectionately, clearly quite fond of his family. he huffed out a quiet laugh, perusing over the rest of the goods within your pastry case as you packaged up rhys' lemon square.

he wasn't sure back then what compelled him to utter his next words, although now, years later, he knew. you were magnetic, and he would have done anything to see that beaming smile again and again and again. which is why he proceeded to point at the pastry case and ask for one of everything else within it.

you'd paused, eyes widening slightly at the request. "also for the high lord?," you'd breathed out, purely stunned. the corners of his lips had quirked upward then, your adorable expression hitting him right in the chest. "no, for me.", he'd stated matter-of-factly. you'd graced him then with one of those face-splitting smiles, dimples sweeping across your cheeks in its wake. he was a goner then, and he knew it.

after carefully packing up the rest of his order - which was now so large, he had no idea how he'd manage to fly back up to the house of wind cradling all of these boxes - you'd slid them across the counter to him.

he'd reached out to grab them, and that's when you took note of his beautiful, scarred hands. your gaze snagged on them, and he noticed immediately. his heart sank, a breath lodged in his throat. surely, he thought, this was the swift and brutal end to something that could have been between the both of you.

instead, you hummed quietly, unabashedly meeting his gaze. your next words came out quietly, almost a whisper - a hint of awe woven into the statement that azriel would absolutely never forget in this lifetime or the next: "you must be very brave."

no, it was then that azriel knew he was a goner. and that was it. he'd vowed at that very moment to do whatever he had to do in order to know you, love you. and you had made it so easy for him to do so.

azriel smiled at the memory, smiled at the fact that while he'd spent his morning reflecting on places that he had lived and called home throughout his lifetime, that you had flooded his mind - guided him back to all thoughts of you.

of course you had. you were his home, after all. a living, breathing representation of love so pure. he'd never once questioned it, he'd never felt something so sure. your love had healed him of so many things, things that you weren't even aware of.

and he knew, that if love were enough, all of his physical scars would be washed away too.

a/n: hi thank u for reading! honestly no idea what this is or where it came from, but i do know that i'm PMSing and writing it almost made me cry lmao. i'm such a sucker. anyway pls let me know if you enjoyed this drabble!

[dreaming-medium]

Bad Day - Bang Chan Drabble

Summary: Reader has a terrible day; one of those days where everything goes wrong. Luckily, her boyfriend is there to wipe the stress away with some well deserved hugs.

Word Count: 2.2k

——————————————————

Punch after punch after punch after punch lands on your soul today. Every single time you turned around, another horrible situation would present itself.

You’ve been sick for two and half weeks now. The sore throat would come and go, but you weren’t able to sleep without propping two pillows under your head. This morning when you woke up, your voice was completely gone.

The empty space next to you in bed certainly doesn’t help either. Chan has been gone for a work trip for two weeks now. He wasn’t due home for another two more.

Work has been its own animal to take care of. It was your first job after graduating, so you were at the bottom of the totem pole. Each higher up suddenly felt the need to burden you with any difficult projects they didn’t feel like taking care of themselves.

“I don’t think this is something I was trained on,” you tried to say to one of the more older workers. The huge stack of papers was so heavy in your hands. “These calculations would take me—“

“Just do it, Y/N,” he said before closing the door to the conference room you were standing alone in.

You had just watched that coworker’s boss tell him to do it. But nope, he dumped it on you.

On top of that, you were also tasked with training the new guy even though you’ve only been here for nine months.

And this guy made it his personal mission to make your job even harder. The way he would go from not knowing anything to being a complete know-it-all within two sentences made your blood boil.

But it’s fine. It’s totally fine, you can handle this.

Then, someone ate your lunch out of the fridge even though your name was clearly written on it. Your lunch break was so short that there was no way you could run out to get something else.

It was raining so hard as you jogged to your car through the parking lot. Every spot in the parking garage was taken this morning so you had to use the satellite lot ten minutes away.

Your clothes were drenched by the time you got into your car and slammed the door shut.

Fumbling with the keys, you shoved them into the ignition and started your car. The heat immediately kicked on and you sat there for an extra couple of minutes, warming your frozen fingers in front of the vents.

A book from one of your favorite authors came out today. You were going to pass the store on your way home, why not stop and buy a copy? It certainly would help with the day you were having.

The drive to the store was silent. You didn’t even turn the radio on. If you’re being honest, you didn’t think you could handle sound.

People were everywhere in the bookstore.

You walked in and looked around for the new book. There were signs and posters everywhere that announced the book. Where was it?

“If you’re looking for the new Kingdom book we sold out this morning.” A worker says to you softly.

A small part of you dies.

You politely nod to the worker and leave.

It’s ridiculous how you feel the tears building behind your eyes.

It’s fine. It’s fine. You’re overreacting. It’s totally fine. You’ll just buy a copy on your Kindle. You didn’t even need a physical copy, right?

Your fingers fumble with your keys and you drop onto the ground. They splash right into a puddle.

It’s fine, it’s fine.

Swallowing painfully, you wince at your sore throat and gather your things to get back in the car.

You’ll go home and watch TV.

“It’s Friday,” you whisper to yourself in the car to try and calm down. “It’s treat day, why not stop for a coffee?”

Every Friday you would buy yourself a coffee. ‘Treat Day’ is what you dubbed it as. It slowly became a tradition with you and your friends.

Chan used to always reload your coffee rewards app with his own money without telling you.

A sad smile tugs at your face while you drive to the coffee shop. God, what you wouldn’t give to see him right now.

The tension in your shoulders is so bad you think your shoulders are level with your ears.

After getting your coffee, you drive all the way home to your apartment complex.

Right before you turn into the lot, a car decides to come out of nowhere and cuts you off. You cut the wheel and slam on the brakes to avoid them.

Your coffee launches out of the cup holder and spills all over your lap.

“Fuck!” You curse and try to focus on the road. “Fuck fuck!”

At least it was iced coffee and you’re not burned. Right? Silver lining?

You’re at your limit. Your sanity is teetering.

Parking in your designated spot, you trudge into the large building.

The weight of the day still sits so heavy on your shoulders. Now your lap was soaked with coffee.

A package sits underneath the complex’s mailboxes. It’s ruined and crushed. The ‘FRAGILE’ sticker is gnarled up.

“No,” you sigh and look closer at it.

Yep, it’s yours. The new dishwear set you ordered came in.

When you lift the package you hear all the pieces shift around. It’s just a box of broken ceramic at this point.

Tighter and tighter your throat gets.

Slowly, you trudge up to your floor. Because, of course, the elevator is broken. Of course it is. Why would the elevator work today?

Just as you get your keys out to open your door, your shitty neighbor comes outside.

“Oh god, Y/N, you look horrible.” He says loudly.

You turn and look at him with tears already brimming in your eyes.

No sign of compassion crosses his face, instead, he laughs. He laughs right in your fucking face.

“No wonder I haven’t seen Chan around. He finally came to his senses, eh?”

Your jaw drops open.

“God, pull yourself together.”

Your neighbor picks up his newspaper from the doormat and goes back into his unit without another word.

For a long moment, you just stand there. Your clothes and hair still soaking wet and clinging to your skin, work bag and purse slung over your shoulder, box of broken plates and bowls in your arms.

Inside your body, you felt yourself finally snap. You felt your anger and frustration hit it’s limit.

Your look of surprise quickly morphs into one of seething rage. Lips pulling in a sneer, you rip open your door and stomp inside, slamming it shut behind you.

Dropping everything you own at the door, including the box of glass, you let out a muffled scream.

The box bursts open and glass shards go everywhere. They skitter across the floor and cover the wood in a dangerous mine field.

A moment of silence passes.

You lose it.

You drop to your knees and cradle your face while angry, hot tears stream down your cheeks.

Wails leave your lips as the weight of the day finally takes it’s toll.

On any normal day, you would be able to handle these things individually, but all at once? You just couldn’t deal with it anymore.

“Y/N?!” A voice calls out from the other end of the hallway.

Your head snaps up and you see your boyfriend standing there with a look of horror on his face.

“Chan,” you croak out.

His eyes frantically look around at the scene in front of him. Your disgruntled state surrounded by broken glass.

He’s here? He’s back?

“Y/N, are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt?”

He tries to walk closer but then he realizes he’s also surrounded by broken glass.

“Chan.” Is all your able to say again before the sobs come out even harder. Your entire body wracks with them, chest sputtering as you try to breathe between cries.

His face twists up in anguish.

“S-Stay there! Don’t move, I’m gunna get a dust pan, okay? I’ll be right back, babygirl. Don’t move.”

He continues to say things over and over to you while running to get what he needs.

“I’m here, baby. You’re okay, right? You’re home and safe, Y/N.”

You bury your face in your hands again and continue to cry. His words reach you, but they do nothing to quell the emotions.

Before you could fall further into this headspace, two warm, strong arms wrap around you and pull you into an even warmer body.

“I’m right here, honey, I’m here. You’re okay.” Chan whispers into your hair. He pulls you onto his lap and holds you close.

His comforting scent envelops you everywhere.

Chan rocks back and forth while holding you.

“You’re okay,” he says over and over into your hair. “You’re home now, I’m here, Channie’s here.”

Your face buried into his shoulder, hands gripping his shirt tightly

“What happened, baby?” He asks gently.

You cry harder.

“I’m so sick,” you cry into his shirt. “People keep taking advantage of me at work, I had to park ten minutes away in the rain. Someone ate my lunch. I dropped my keys in a puddle, the new book sold out, I spilled my coffee everywhere. Then fucking 304 across the hall tells me how horrible I look.”

You motion outwards at the glass all over the floor still. “And how do you like our new dishes?”

Even in the middle of a mental breakdown, you still crack a joke.

Saying it all makes you cry even harder. At this point, Chan’s shirt is soaked with your tears.

He continues to hold you as tight as he could. Not once does he tell you to stop crying, instead he carefully scoots and leans against the wall, cradling your body on his lap.

Chan rocks back and forth, pressing kisses into the crown of your hair as you cry your heart out.

His one hand rubs slow circles on your back while the other pets the back of your hair.

Low hums come from his throat. Chan lays his cheek on top of your head and keeps you close to his chest.

“It’s okay, babygirl,” he coos. “You’re home now. You’re with me now.”

“Thank god you’re home,” you hiccup and clutch his shirt closer to you.

“My spidey-senses were tingling,” he jokes in a hushed tone.

You manage to chuckle through your tears.

“My babygirl needed me.”

You’ve always been so happy go lucky, the glass was always half full with you. You always looked on the bright side of everything. If anything bad happened, it always just rolled off your back.

It was one of the main reasons he fell for you.

Chan has never seen you as bad as you were on your knees in the entryway, it shook him to his core.

Another long kiss is pressed to your head.

Slowly, your sobs calm down. Your throat still hoarse and sore from before has only gotten marginally worse.

Sniffling, you sit up away from Chan.

“‘M sorry I got your shirt all gross.”

Chan laughs in spite of everything. Both of his strong hands cup your cheeks for you to look him in the eye.

His chin dips down to your level so he can stare right at you. Those gorgeous brown eyes sparkle at you.

“I’m not upset about my shirt, Y/N,” he says gently. “I’m only worried about my sunshine. It’s not every day you cry, baby.”

“Everything just happened at once.” Chan’s thumbs wipe away the tears on your cheeks. “I tried to keep it together but our neighbor verbally berating me was the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

Chan tuts and brushes your hair behind your ear.

“Let’s throw eggs at his door,” he jokes.

He pulls a laugh from you.

“There’s my favorite smile.” He coos. It makes your smile even brighter. You sniffle again, and look down sheepishly.

Chan lifts your chin up with his thumb and forefinger. “Hey baby,” he grabs your attention. “How about this: you go shower off the day, I’m going to clean all this up and order our favorite takeout for dinner. I even stopped on my way home and got two pints of ice cream before.”

“Mint chocolate chip?” You ask softly.

“Of course I got your nasty toothpaste ice cream.” He pinches your cheek teasingly.

You giggle and lean away from his hand.

“Come on, babygirl.”

Before he does anything else, Chan leans forward and presses a long, warm kiss to your forehead.

Both of your eyes close at the comforting feeling it brings. After he kisses your forehead, Chan leans down and kisses both of your cheeks.

His warm lips then press to your nose and then finally to your lips.

It’s a long, sensual, loving kiss. Both of your mouths slipping over one another in a dance.

You sigh happily into the kiss. Chan’s mouth smiles against your own. It’s contagious, you can’t help but mirror the grin with our own.

In the end, you both look like smiling fools wrapped up in one another’s presence.

Chan scoops you up carefully and stands up from the floor, making sure to avoid any stray shards of glass.

“I’m going to take good care of you, my honey.” He coos and presses another kiss to your forehead. “Your bad day ends here.”

[erinwantstowrite]

Would you ever... create like... LOF au oneshots....? Like, one chapter lengths stuff for things that you were thinking of putting in but didn't, or doing like a "Peter if he was younger, meeting the bats" or "what if Bruce was his dad, not Dink?"

i have been collecting scenes that ended up not being in LoF... Like, some scenes that were in a different POV before they got changed (there's a Tim POV that got scrapped and ended up as Peter's instead, this is the hardware store scene), scenes that ended up not being in it at all (Peter and Dick were going to have dinner with Donna, but it wasn't coming out right when I tried writing it) etc.

I do like the idea of doing drabbles for LoF like I do for Home too, or maybe even writing someone else's POV of a scene that I did put in LoF, or writing things that the others were doing on certain days, etc.

though there are some things that i might end up putting in a different au instead of scrapping it all together. like this scene:

[ Peter is holding a fridge. Somehow, this is both a cause for alarm and also not at all what the problem really is.

See, Peter woke up this morning with the goal of going around and logging Gotham’s map so he could input it into the Jumping Radar. Peter really wants to avoid going back to the library, and doesn’t feel like testing his chances at a new library just yet. However, that plan ended up on the back burner sooner rather than later.

There’s this little old lady on Bourbank Avenue, a little close to Benny’s, that Peter says hello to when he sees. Her name is Margerie, and usually outside tending to her rickety garden. “Poison Ivy is more gentle with people who care about the plants.” She had told him, and taught Peter her ways of tending to beans, beets, carrots, and spinach.

Well, Peter said hello to her today. Stopped by to chat while she taught him about how to tell when a tomato is at its best. And that’s when he heard about her fridge.

“I’ve had it so long, it’s no wonder it gave out on me,” She had said.

“How long has it been?”

“Well, Benji was still alive…”

“Who?”

“My son.” Margerie had smiled. “He was the one who’d remember that kind of thing.”

And, well, jeez. Peter’s not a monster. He went looking for a damn fridge.

However, he didn’t have the money for a fridge. So what he could do was find where Margerie’s hired worker dumped the fridge, fix it, and find some way to bring it back without anyone noticing he’s a skinny 14 year old who shouldn’t be able to do that. This endeavour led him all the way to a dumpster, where it turns out he can’t save the fridge after all.

But there was an appliance store in the Diamond District that Peter had passed by. And wouldn’t you know it, he found a fridge outside in their dumpster that was able to be salvaged. It’s perfectly clean, too, just sitting there brand new and with a faulty ice box that no one wanted to work around.

So.

Peter is holding a fridge.

That’s somehow both a cause for alarm, and not the problem.

Cause of alarm- he dropped it on his foot when a group of people ran behind the appliance store, and he almost shrieked in pain and alerted them that he was behind the now dropped fridge. He heard the crack in his foot and felt it and prayed, but no- broken.

Peter pushes the fridge off of his foot, yanks the broken thing back, and gently drops the fridge back into place. He’s far enough against a chain link fence to be hidden very well, thankfully, and none of the people who ran back here had seen him. (Yet?) He presses his back against the chain link, biting his lip and pressing his thumb on the injury. It’s not that bad, he can already feel the healing itch. But it’s enough that with only a couple meals in him, that it’ll take longer than Peter would like for it to get back to normal.

“Fuck! Scatter! Why’re y’followin’ me, y’idiots!?”

The real problem: not the broken foot.

“This was tha only place ta run!” Another shouts back. “Fuck! This is bad!”

“No shit! Y’fuckin’ moron- y’led a Bat right to us!” A third hisses.

Peter peeks around the fridge in time to see the third guy grabbing the second by the collar, slamming him up against a wall with a thud.

hello! hey, watch? look it look it look it

Whatever scuffle was about to happen is quieted. Peter glances upwards, but he doesn’t see what he knows is there, in plain daylight. There’s a presence on the roof of the appliance store, but where? Peter should be able to see them, but…

there there there!

He doesn’t get to focus on the presence that’s there. Instead, his eyes are starting to adjust to the fact that- hold on-

Peter glances up. Gotham is usually cloudy and grey, but… there’s nothing blocking that light of a stormy early morning. And yet, everything in the area is growing darker and darker. Peter’s skin crawls, a tingle that settles down his spine and tries to make up for the increasing lack of light. The group of teens start to panic, looking for a way out that isn’t possible in this dead end.

Darkness encompasses the area. Peter takes short, silent breaths. His ears twitch with every movement from the teens, every whisper of panic. Their heartbeats are erratic, and it’s like they already know which Bat this is. There’s seven heartbeats, panicked, trying to escape…

And one that is calm. There’s a breath and the scuffle of a foot from the rooftop.

Peter closes his eyes even though it’s already dark. His spider-sense is making up for what he can’t see, a mental map of the area created in his head. He feels the air move around him, and listens as the Bat takes each of them out one by one.

The thuds of one companion freak out another. “Scotty?”

But then he’s out too. Peter hears two more meet the same fate, knocked out cold on the concrete. He opens his eyes as the Bat approaches the last of them, just in time for the shadows to recede back to where they should be.

Signal stands over the last, now unconscious guy.

The Bat hasn’t broken a sweat. He almost looks bored when he starts ziptieing the gang, complaining aloud, “Y’all couldn’t have waited until tomorrow to cause trouble?”

Whoa.

Peter had seen Signal doing his thing a couple times when he was out and about, but never this up close. That…

That was fucking awesome.

He heard the guy was a meta, and he didn’t know what to believe about that, but seriously? That was like some Shadow-jutsu shit- wait, could he do that? No, wait, because now Peter can see Signal again. He was fucking invisible! And he’s acting like it was nothing! ]

I really really really really really wanted this scene, but it never made it past the rough draft :( that's because it didn't make sense with the rest of the chapter (i can not remember which chapter it was for, but it was definitely before Two Face). I've been thinking about putting it in a deleted scenes for LoF fic, but I think I might take it and put it in a different au.

(The only consolation I have for this scene not making it in is that Signal gets to have a cool scene later)

[plutokoo]

Maybe a bit weird but yandere big bad wolf jk and small sheep oc/yn?

pairing : yandere wolf jk x fem sheep hybrid reader

genre : smut, yandere

A/N : a quick smutty drabble rn because I'm writing a one shot for it and it's halfway done. I just need to do a quick dump bcs the one shot is kinda long and it's making me hit writers block 😭😭😭😭. this might not be the best tbh but I promise the one shot will be way better.

yandere wolf jk who's a perfectionist at uni never missing a class, always has a 4.0 GPA and never failed to made it in to the deans list.

and then one day he saw you, barging in to the class late mumbling sorry and sitting right in front of him,your scent covering his nose almost instantly,his ears tensing up as he grumble mate slightly under his breath.

he reached for you after class finished, hands grabbing your arm tightly, he leaned his face in, a wolfish grinned adorning his face as he greeted you

you who was timid,fearful and easily panicked,breathed out your name gently hands shaking from the sudden interaction. you can't help it of course it's in your nature to act that way :(

before he could ask you about how he's never seen you in the class before, you snatched your arms from him, legs stuttering to get out of the room as fast as you can, his scent was overwhelming, making your thoughts go hazy from fear.

jungkook frowned as your figure scrambled out, hands forming a fist as he make a silently vow to himself to get you again.

he met you again next on the campus hallway, hands barely holding on to the thick text books you carried as you sauntered around,trying to get into the professor office before bumping against some jock, your knees crashing on the hard tiles as the books fell from your grasp, gasp leaving your lips from the pain. the hallway turned silent, people watching you trying to gather books, you wanted to wailed from the attention you're receiving, your knees ached from the impact,blood oozing out from the cuts it received

jungkook immediately rushed up to you, shooing people away as he kneeled down, his hands quickly collect the books as he helped you stand up. he cooed at the fat tears that was sliding down your face, "its okay baby you're okay they're gone know" he fussed wiping your tears away

you sobbed,wiping your face at the sleeve of your sweater, the nickname he gave you went unnoticed as he continued to caressed your face.

"let me help you bring these and then we'll go to the infirmary to take care of your knees, okay?" he offered not giving you time to answer before he grabbed your hands,his other hand holding the books easily as he sauntered to the office

after that it was easy for jungkook to make you his,everyday he would take you out for coffee,sit beside you in class, and helped doing your assignments. he'd pamper you endlessly, slowly convincing you to sleep at his place instead because it was too dangerous for you to sleep alone and you who was dumb,naive and gullible believed everything he said.

he'd make you move to his apartment too, because it's such a hassle for his baby to be going back and forth at all and he doesn't like the thought of you being all alone so please move in with me baby, I don't like being apart from you :((((

jungkook Hates when you start talking or making friends with other people because you're his and only his to have, it's not hard to make you stop talking to these people of course, your timid nature making it easy for him to remove people from your life.

he'd tell you everyday, gaslighting you into thinking about how your friends view you as an easy target and how you will always be a Second choice to them, how you would easily get stampede if you keep hanging around with people other than him.

you'd believed everything he said, the thought of leaving the home you thought as a safe place become more and more distasteful making you switch all your classes to online instead, which ofcourse was jungkooks Idea.

jungkook loves to fuck you, he loves rubbing your wet pussy through your panties while you're sleeping, hips unconsciously humped against his hands as moans left your lips,his hands would move the panties sideways, thumbs slowly rubbing your clit, drawing 8 figures on it making you reach your qlimax, soft pants leaving your lips.

he'd fuck you on top of the kitchen counter, your front leaning on it, clit grazing against the counters corner everytime he thrust forward. cold marble pressing against your chest as jungkook pulled your hair back, his hand reaching down to pinch your nipple making you squeeze more around his cock

"aah...aah ple..please" you mewl hands rubbing your clit, desperate to reach your orgasm. jungkook grunts, his hands smacked you ass,groaning as he watched it jiggle "please what slut", he rasped hips bucking faster as he leaned down, lips sucking your necks making your eyes rolled back from the pleasure

"uh...ugh...cum please" you cried out, jungkook reached down hands smacking your pussy as he yanked your hair back "fuck..baby..cum" he choked, you wailed as you squirt against him,body trembling, eyes rolling back as your pussy pulsate againts his cock. "fuck fuck fuck" jungkook sobbed out as he reached his climax, filling your hole with so much cream it drips out.

he pulled out,wincing slightly before plugging his hand up your hole, preventing his cum from dripping down your hole "can't let this go to waste hm".

jungkook loves it when you got your heat he'd fuck you on every surface in the house. he'd fuck you on the couch when the movie's still playing,on the bathtub while letting the shower jet hits your clit , on the floor where he'd fuck you so hard you could barely from a sentence.

jungkook loves you so much he'd kill for you. he would easily get rid of anyone that he thinks might be a threat to your relationship.

he'd do anything for you as long as you don't leave his side,so don't even try to think about doing it it okay?.

[fauustic]

don't cry, my treasure.

soft miguel o'hara x gender-neutral reader drabble

had to write this and get it out of my brain before i post my miguel series..

summary: you accidentally stir miguel awake while you're dealing with insomnia, he decides to take care of you. fluff. comfort.

warnings: brief mentions of previous injuries (fighting crime is serious business!!), just miguel being a silly little thing.. i love sleepy miguel sm.

words: 3k

Sleep came in waves, pushing against the lid of your eyes and taking you away in its current just to spit you back out into reality.

You were always tired, you've realized as you stretched your aching bones and rubbed your swollen cheek– spider suit catching your eye as it was thrown haphazardly on your bedside chair like an afterthought. 

And nightmares, nightmares kept you up like a stalker always two steps behind– waiting, preying on your frazzled mind like a parasite constantly leeching off your sanity. So here you were, grasping at the sleeveless sleep-shirt as it clamped onto your sweat-sleek stomach like a second skin.

Shallow breaths escaped from your trembling lips like you were just dumped into a pool of ice-cold water, spider senses lit aflame with the abrupt, irrational fear stabbed through your heart.

You tried to stay quiet, you didn't want to be any more of a burden when you knew how much your lover struggled through insomniac nights as well– he had just gotten back from countless hours stove away in his dim and dark lab after a few days of power naps and caffeine. Miguel was downright exhausted, snores meeting your ears whenever you'd wake up from a dark turn in the dreams you do have.

But this time was different, as you shied away from his back that you were latched onto like a koala. Your skin peeled off his, and if you were with anyone else you would have thought it was gross. But Miguel loves closeness, the affection you just can't help but give and he takes and takes like a starved man. His muscles on his shoulders rolled and neck cracked as Miguel stirred, a breathy little groan hissing past the fangs he unknowingly had on full display when he shifted on his back– scarlet gaze screwed shut as his hands reached towards your usual spot on your shared bed. The pads of his fingers melted into your hip, little claws kissing the unveiled flesh from the lack of control he had over himself from still ebbing away the sleep hazing his mind.

Your name rolled off his tongue like a blessing, raspy and a bit puzzled; "Everythin' alright?" Miguel slurred, face barely leaving the pillow as his tied-back hair came askew; the little tendrils, that usually would never see the lines on his forehead, brushing against his eyebrow and curling ever so slightly. Call you love-struck, but you swear the curl shaped a little heart. "Miss you so close already," he huffed into the domestic atmosphere, thumb swirling imaginary shapes into the canvas of your skin.

With every month passing by, the intimacy came easier; Miguel's thoughts came and went in the bubble of security you brought him. The clinginess you never would have expected from the man who has the Spider Society at his beck and call rivalled the mimicry of a grizzly bear secretly being a very soft teddy bear. And with you, he was nothing less than a man who acted as if every drop of love you had for him was his last.

It took a long time for him to open up his heart for you to create space for yourself, but as you leaned back into his space to cup your palm into the angle of his jaw– everything felt worth it. Like you belonged here.

"Bad dream." Was all you said, kissing the ridge of his nose like Miguel was the most fragile thing in the world. And he practically became putty in your hands, eyes fluttering open accompanying a subtle frown. Drool pooled at the corner of his mouth, sharp canine peeking through the plush of his lips. Though he looked like he had just woken from hibernation, his features glazed with gentle understanding.

"That's no good," He murmured into your touch like a prayer, sitting up until the duvet pooled in his lap. Miguel hogged most of the bed unintentionally with his almost seven-foot self, the height that had many opposed to him on their knees in angst, but when he sat up and leaned towards your form like a magnet– Miguel was nothing more than a man who worshipped you. "Déjame cuidarte, ¿de acuerdo? (Let me take care of you, okay?)"

Before you even had the mind to protest, he pulled forward until his lips met the damp hair curled against the back of your neck. "Migs, you need rest–" you began but to no avail, he was already adjusting his boxers and shuffling towards your bathroom with a slumped posture. It had your stomach churn with butterflies even after all these months, the sweetness he's learned all over again despite the trauma he's endured leaking into your daily life and becoming something you absolutely adored about him.

Silence enveloped the apartment amidst the sleepy fumbling from within the washroom, flashes of vibrancy peering into the curtains you had against the windows that took up the wall closest to the busiest flow of air traffic. A memory was brought to mind as you peeked through the fabric, met with the city of stars and man-made comets passing by the skyscraper your home is within.

Funnily enough, you had wanted to live in the underground district of Nueva York, finding yourself more enraptured by the architecture that hid machinery and structures that kept the top afloat. But that was before you met Miguel and was thrown into the ring of being a part of the Spider Society– so you just made Miguel come along with your weekly trips to the landmarks hidden away.

"C'mere, muñeco." The fallen angel on your mind interrupted the delicate quiet of your home, calling through the cracked door after a moment of the water running, warmth seeping into the bedroom and tickling the flesh peeking out from your loose-sleepwear. 

When you pushed through the threshold and granted with the presence of Miguel bent over the tub and testing the temperature of the water mumbling to himself, you were already in the process of ripping off your shirt– but you couldn't help but stutter to a halt in a flustered mess when he turned his attention to you– glasses framing his sleepy eyes like a weapon within itself. Breath hitched and sweat coating your palms in lovesick anxiety, you fumbled into the dim light of the washroom.

Clumsily, you bumped your hip into the counter as your shirt finally came off, an uncharacteristic yelp coming from you and surely you expected to meet the cold tile floor until a pair of hands settled on the curves of your hips– claws indenting on the skin barely above his boxers holding into your figure for dear life. 

"Easy now, mi sirenita." Miguel practically cooed into your ear, kissing the shell of it before trailing down the column of your neck– nibbling into the blemished canvas of your clavicle. A faint bite mark etched your skin like oil paint, muddied with purple and red hues. Just as it was fading away, Miguel's lips grazed the dent with admiration before settling his blunt canines into the desired point and biting down. You gasped breathily, heat pooling your cheeks and your knees threatening to give out.

The unspoken desire of his want to care for you was written in your hips when Miguel caressed into where you had hurt yourself from your clumsiness, yet his lack of self restraint was symbolized through the bite just below your neck– very rarely absent without the pierce-marks of fangs. But he wanted to be delicate with you tonight, treat you as one of his most prized possessions when he truly just loved you a little too much. 

Pushing him away with the palm of your hand on his chest, a gentle scold resting on your tired expression like an empty threat. "Ew, Migs. That's too cheesy." You whined, allowing him to slip the briefs from your body before taking your hand in his and leading you to the tub. You sunk down into the sudsy, bubbling water with a splash that had him sighly fondly. Drips of bubbles coated his frames and before he had the chance to wipe them off, your hands wrapped around his neck just to tug him closer to the edge of the tub.

Miguel furrowed his brows at your antics as you kissed his cheek, his hands finding purchase on the edge so he didn't take the risk of slipping into the bubbly water. The thought makes you giggle as his fingers cup the angle of your jaw, calculated and a bit sorrowful. Miguel hated seeing you hurt, so knowing that your miscalculations in a mission with him had a right hook land on your 'good side,' he felt as if he had failed you. Didn't change the fact he pummelled the pesky little anomaly in your honor – but you didn’t miss the misty eyes he held so sadly for you as he patched up your bleeding nose. 

And here he was, kissing the corner of your lips with so much delicacy that you could almost cry.

A faint whimper left his lips as they grazed the sudden wetness dripping down your cheeks, the sleepy look in his eye blanketed with haste concern as he checked your body for any other sores inflicted from the bad feud– and as Miguel’s kisses were met with bubbles and blemished skin, he whispered against your flesh like a saint worshipping their holiness. “No llores, tesoro, por favor no llores.. (Don’t cry, treasure, please don’t cry) Hate seeing that look on your face, can’t stand it.” He breathed into your neck, any care about getting wet was out the window of your apartment when a strangled choke erupted from your throat like a hiccup.

“Just missed you,” You admitted as you shifted into the water that submerged your legs, leaning into his warmth as close as you could. A sniffle had Miguel folding into your damp hair, his own tied-back curls kissing your forehead.

Miguel shuddered, the stoicism he was able to keep up in your presence throughout the daylight behind black sunglasses and a subtle pout in the rare moments where he leaves his lab crumbled the moment he heard you express your craving for him. “I.. missed you too. Shock, I missed you too–” Miguel breathed into your lips, his face angled towards you in a way that ruined everyone else for you. His lashes drooped addictively as you let out a stifled giggle at his lingo he’s never been able to shake. 

“Come join me,” you murmur as you escape his space and instead sink lower into the bathtub. You swear he practically whined, his fang peeking just slightly into your view as Miguel’s face scrunched into displeasure. His bottom lip rolled against the pointy canine, something he was always a bit self-conscious of– but with you it was like he never needed to think that he was anything different.

“You know last time– I could barely even fit in the damn thing,” He complained yet he still stripped off his loose sweatpants nonetheless, shameless as his free hand, middle finger specifically, pushed his frames up with a steadiness that proved alone he was the leader of such a "pretentious" society. Had you mentioned the thought aloud, Miguel's signature frown and deadpan stare would have replaced that sweet look in his eye in an instant. So you just smiled and opened your arms in a warm welcome.

Miguel grunted in response, faux annoyance coating his tone when you could depict the subtle curl of his lips– he was always more than content with himself whenever he was able to get as close to you as possible. You scooted forward to allow some kind of space for him, and soon enough his chest was used as a pillow for the back of your head and your hims were encompassed by his legs, feet dangling from the tub because he was right; Miguel’s stature was never fit any anything deemed for the average person. And Miguel was anything but normal, and he hated himself for that.

You could hear the mumbles of curses that slipped from his tongue when he slipped further into the bubbly water, shoulders hunched and arms resting on the cusp of the tub. It was a tight fit, your back nestled into the heat of his abdomen as his chin rested on the top of your head– and by the way Miguel shifted and oozed with insecurity you could tell your wishes he so easily obliged was backfiring from his poisoned trauma. From the mirror in the washroom, you could see the scrunch of his nose as he laid his glasses aside, atop the lid of the toilet just beside where you two sat intertwined.

Reaching back, you found his hands and clutched onto them as if he was a fading star, gentleness contrasting the explosion rumbling in his throat as his thoughts laced with venom swarmed his very being. It reminded you of the first glances you got of him when you first was recruited to the society, a downcast stare always miles underneath the horizon and a frown that never left his face. But as your fingers found comfort within his bruised knuckles, washing away the tainted sin the moment you brought the bruises to your lips and left fluttering touches– Miguel melted into your bared soul like a stray desperate for love and affection.

To you, you were his food. He feasted on what you gave, that warm feeling that curled into his ribcage and soothed his aching heart and whatever else is rotted in that dark imprisonment. Miguel took and took and took, nestled into your physicality as you ceaselessly gave and gave and gave.

But for you, all you needed to see his eyes blink into reality, grounded by what he was so depraved of growing up. Miguel’s tension left his cheeks, softening as you intertwined your hand into his and the other brushing against the fat of his thigh– squeezing reassuringly. Like a switch was turned on, Miguel devolved into a puddle around you as a huff of relief caressed the shell of your ear.

Miguel’s shins kicked up water, splashing your nose and drenching your nostrils with the scent of bubblegum. And you laughed heartily as his chin met your shoulder– nibbling so softly as if he was chewing the stress from his mind. His arms that once rested on the edge wrapped around the underneath of your arms, cupping your waist before he finally settled his hands on the core of your stomach. His deep breaths filled the silence of the bathroom, and you could practically hear snores before you broke the sweet quietness.

“You’re so pretty,” you murmured into his cheek when you turned towards the chin digging into your shoulder and then you feathered your lips onto the bone of his cheek, “such a pretty thing. My sweet thing.” Praise rolled off that sleepy ooze of warmth inside your heart, and when you felt Miguel shift and his mouth that once formed an “o” contort into an upside down close-lipped smile, you knew you hit gold.

He shook his head in disbelief, breath meeting the nestle of your neck when his cheeks lit aflame and sputtered in broken Spanish. A whimper rumbled against your bare skin, and soon enough purring vibrated your back like a cat knowing it’s being spoken to. “Sabes, eres... eres increíble. Too much, you’re too much. Christ.”

Bubbles popped around the two of you, the lights set on the lowest option so Miguel didn’t develop on one those terrible migraines that pounced the moment he was at his most vulnerable: a rare dinner date he had reserved, making out in the luminescence of his lab’s technological panels, the first time you had spent the night at his own apartment before you had moved in together.

You hummed as he begrudgingly separated his hands from you, only to lather the shampoo you love in between his fingers and starting on your scalp. He was too tender with you tonight, but you needed this treatment more than anything. Your love for him leaked from your pores and intermingled with his muscles, relaxing the both of you without even needing to say anything. But you felt the urge to tell him, to tell him everything on your mind that very moment. Yet, sleep was a fickle thing and you were exhausted, so you only huffed out a whisper before submitting to the skilled massage on your muscles.

“Love you, honey.” You breathed into the domesticity of it all, his claws peeking from the pads of his fingers just the way Miguel knew you liked against your scalp. The purring in his chest only increased tenfold, scooting closer to your back if that was even possible. The both of you hold these memories close to your intertwined hearts, knowing you only had so much time together outside of your shared second lives. You haven’t been able to reassure your feelings for him in quite a few days, and despite not needing to really say your affections aloud– Miguel preferred physicality anyways, you still caught on that vocalizing your feelings for the other had you running laps around his mind every minute and every hour of the day.

He only kissed the back of your head, just upon the mole you didn’t know you had. Without a word, the sudsy kisses trailed further down until it met where your spine began, and he bit down just faintly. 

“I’m so glad I found you,” He murmured into the soap pooling down your shoulders, soft but echoing around in the walls of the bathroom like a promise, a truth that will forever hold its meaning. Within this city of stars, the only celestial he had eyes on were you.

“Te amo, mi tesoro. Te amo mucho, cuidaré de ti para siempre (I will take care of you forever).”

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife Follow up to the drabble on the Pepsi pregnancy dillema, inspired by @alltheseperfectimperfections 's comment:

Also supported by @wanda2themax

- - - -

You're just getting so cranky lately. Short tempered, stressed with work, your body weight not going back down despite working out, period all fucked up now, and with your little Sarah's terrible tantrums , and with Joel's... everything. Everything about him is pissing you off now.

He's been exhausted between you and the kid that his only alone quiet time is late at night.

Joel glances at the clock which shines 2:34am brightly. He rubs his eyes aggressively with his big palms. You're passed the FUCK out with your hair everywhere, arm draped over his chest like a fallen maiden with drool slipping from your snoring mouth.

He kisses your hand before gently tucking you in without stirring you. With one final look at your sleeping body, he closes the door behind him and quietly heads downstairs.

The bright florescent light of the refrigerator has his eyes squinting as he searches for something sugary. Part of your irritability was scolding him for drinking too much pop, not enough water. So he's been looking forward to just having a Pepsi in peace.

He digs in the back and finds the blue can. There's a solid crack as he pops it open, then hissing as the bubbles subside. Titling back, he sips from the little hole and sighs.

He closes his eyes and breathes in the peace.

Just as he closes the door, he sees a creepy shadowed silhouette of a figure standing in the pitch black hallway from the stairs.

He flinched hard and shouts "FuCKIN--shit!" As he clutches the can to his chest and spilling a bit on his shirt.

Its just you.

He sighs, clutching his chest to lower his heart rate. "Christ, baby you scared me."

Your lips are thin lined, apparently unbothered by Joel's reaction. The nightgown dangles by your knees, hair still messy but eyes--empty. Wide and blank. It takes him a second to register you're looking at the metal can in his hand rather than him.

"Ah, I'm--it's just a little. Can't get mad at me for it--"

But you're not listening, gliding towards him like a ghost and holding your hand out.

He sighs grumpily and gives in, surrendering his sweet drink.

Instead of dumping it down the sink, however, you bring it to your mouth and all but CHUG the pepsi like a thirsty desert survivor. And you keep. Going. The entire can. Usually just a sip and you're hiccuping but right now, he can audibly hear each gulp, the can crinkling in your clutch as you suck it down.

Once ever drop has safely traveled down your throat. You burp--something you NEVER do--without caution or care.

"That was good. Goodnight," you say plainly. Then walk back up the stairs and disappear into the dark.

Joel just stands there wondering what that was all about.

The next day you don't bring anything up, or act any different.

He starts testing his "hunch."

He leaves unopened cans next to your bed, but you never drink it. You seem to only have a craving when he's already opened it (and drinking it for himself).

He once opened a Pepsi bottle then dropped his phone. Bending down to pick it up, and looking back to the table to find it gone. He goes into the living room to see you and Sarah mindlessly watching dancing fruit on the TV and taking little sips without acknowledging his presence.

He also had Tommy over for dinner once and had a coke and pepsi open in his arm. He extends the coke to you, but without missing a beat, you take the pepsi in his other hand and walk away with it.

Tommy pipes up and asks, "I thought you were a cola girl?"

"I am," you state confidently, sipping down the pepsi can without question. "Why?"

Tommy just eyes Joel suspiciously and shrugs it off with you.

It's not until you've had 12 more pepsi's this WEEK that he's sitting you down. He opens a can and you greedily take it in two hands, sipping away. You squeeze your eyes and shiver. "OooOooOooOo spicy!" You squeak.

"Honey," he says tentatively yet as calm as possible.

"What."

"I think we should take a trip to the doctors today."

"What why? What's wrong? What happened, are you okay??"

"No nothing wrong with me, baby. For you..."

"Me??? What's wrong with me, mister?"

His eyes gesture to the aluminum in your hand. You stare at it confused, looking at it closely, as if it has a skull and cross bone posion on it--I mean, it doesn't LOOK like anything is wrong with it? Just a normal pepsi--until it clicks.

Your jaw drops. You gasp so dramatically.

And he gasps too with a comically uncontained smile.

You both hear a tiny gasp below you as Sarah looks up to mommy and daddy just wanting to be part of the gasping fit.

And you gasp again and look the can and he's gasping back, but in a mocking playful way where hes pretending he didn't figure it a week ago already. Not that you even care because holy FUCK you're gasping incredulously since youre only JUST NOW FIGURING IT OUT.

"NO. NO WAY."

He just smiles widely and tries not to laugh. "Gotta find out for sure but. Seems like it."

But then your smile fades, and you start staring at Sarah and then your belly, and you're already considering cursing out its new occupant.

"WHY DOES NO ONE LIKE COKE WITH ME! WHATS NEXT??? WE'RE GONNA BE A HUNTS KETCHUP FAMILY????"

- - - -

Notes: yes fuck it baby #1 is Sarah. I kept dancing around giving her own name but nah.

Series Masterlist

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[starrybl1ss]

boyfriend

"i could be a better boyfriend than him"

boyfriend - dove cameron

💌:: hi hi hiii! im rn suuuuper busy but i just had this idea i need to write it asapp!!! Its another drabble thoughhhh:( i js cant be stuck w writing one long fic!! Was gonna put fluff in here but i scrapped the idea<3

dom!college!ellie williams x f!reader

warnings bbg: mdni!!! fingering, smut generally, toxic releationship, pet names???

summary: reader having an asshole of a boyfriend and ellie being reader's bestfriend thinks she could be a better boyfriend.

---☆

You came rushing to ellie's apartment elevator with tears mixed with mascara drailing down your face. Geez, you had a rough day. You quickly pressed number 5, that's the floor ellie is on.

Luckly no one was in the elevator with you so nobody had to see you being a mess. You grabbed your phone while still being in the elevator and quickly texted ellie.

You

Els, im a minute away from your room.

You got out of the elevator and found ellie's apartment door. Your just hoping she's isn't outside, i mean she has no classes at this time as she told you this morning.

You knocked on the door nervously, scared if she wasn't home. Then the door opened-- phew! She is home.

Ellie stops and looks at you top to bottom. "Hey what's wrong?" She asked in a soft voice. "I-" ellie stops you. "Wait, come inside first" she insisted.

You came in her apartment room dropping your bag on the floor and broke into tears. "is it your boyfriend again? What did he do to you this time?" She hugged you while patting your head gently.

"I- i j- just asked him to-" you sobbed again. "To- to go to come over a- and he said h-he couldn't" you sniffed. "W-when i asked-- why? He said he had a lot of assigments unfinished and he's busy-" ellie whiped a tear running down your cheeks.

"B-b-but when i went back to campus- to get the books i left, i- i saw him with aliyah- a- and t-they k- kissed.." ellie looked at you with pure sympathy. "Sit down" she told you.

You sat on her bed next to her. "B-but aliyah is dating that popular guy..." you sobbed. "She dates the whole campus y/n, just dump him! Your better on your own"

"But- if i dumped him, i- id hurt him..." you told her. Ellie looks at you in disbelief "your kidding right?" Said in a slightly mocking tone. "So your feel sorry for him?" She scoffs "funny. After making you cry for hours every single day? Never had time for you and instead he's hooking up with other hoes like that bitch aliyah?"

You avoided eye contact with ellie, she sounded angry. "So i'm just gonna let him hurt my g- bestfriend like that?" You shake your head slowly. "You still going to be with him? Come on, your not a loser" she mocked you.

"Your not going back with him. Im not letting him hurt you again. Enough is enough" you looked at her with soggy eyes still.

Ellie got closer to your face and whispered to your ears. "I could be a better boyfriend than him"

Suddenly she pushes you to the wall. "You are not going back to him" she stared at you coldly. She lifts up your chin. "Els...-" she kissed you a bit harsh while gripping on your shorts. You looked at her. Don't know how to react.

"Don't be an idiot, your better alone, or..." she towers over you on her bed practically pinning you to the wall. "...With me"

She pulls the top of your tanktop with her right hand and pulled down one of the strap with her left hand. "Ellie...." you whined. "Who do you belong to now?" She asked you demandingly. "Y-you"

You were so fucked up in the head, all fuzzy almost couldn't think straight. You feel drunk, this time it's not because you were at dina's and partying all night, this time its different.

It was a suprise, throughout the past 2 years, ellie does act a little 'different' with you, considering you've known her for half your life.

"You have no idea how long i've wanted to do this..." ellie whispered. You pulled ellie's shirt "can i just be yours....?" You muttered.

Ellie smirked and scoffs a bit mockingly "your mine" she said in a tone you've never heard before. She pulled down both of the straps of your tanktop and pulled it down.

She kissed your neck, biting it.... leaving marks. God, how are you going to cover this up? You started groaning.

"You smell nice, did your boyfriend bought you this parfume?" She stopped and looks at you. "N-no... i bought it mysel- shit..." she slid down the pretty shorts you wore.

"Better huh? Its getting hot in here" she smiled at took off her shirt and damn... she works out a lot doesn't she?

Ellie pushed her knuckle on your clothes cunt. "S'wet babe, who did this to you?" She asked. "Don'know" you mumbled. She pulled down your underwear and you gasped slightly. She suddenly inserts one digit in you. "Do you know now?" She asked again. "S'you- its you els"

She curled her finger in you. "-eghh.... el-ellie....." god your totally fuck up, its only one finger- and again, she puts another digit in you as you clenched around her fingers.

"Your so pretty..." ellie spat out those words making you blush like crazy. Its not like she never compliments you, she always compliment you every time you two meet and you put so much effort to your clothes i mean this time you were barely wearing anything.

You keep on moaning and groaning, shes is doing something to you. Then she pulled out both her digits and starts edging you. "Ff-fuck fuck fuuckk.." you yelled out.

"Y'gonna cum for me sweetie?" She asked. "S--soon, p-probablly i-" you came on her hand with a moan as you reached your climax. "Good girl" she praised you.

[baddestbittyontheblock]

bada lee fic recs (2)

you are responsible for the content you consume‼️

✧*:·˚ hi everyone!! here is a list of all the fics that are my favs with tagged writers/authors ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ remember to like and reblog the works you enjoy in order to support each writer!! ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ however, make sure you read the information on each story themselves such as triggers & warnings ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ also, if you'd like me to remove your fic from this list, message me! ✧*:·˚

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

𓆩❀𓆪 home by @throughthebluesea bada lee x reader | just warmth. fluff. heavily based with reese lansangan's home. (highly suggested to listen to it while reading this.)

-you wondered what type of day it is today. you were late at work, got scolded by your superiors, and finished a lot of backlogs that your superiors dumped on you. at this point, you're looking up at the dull white ceiling from your cubicle.

𓆩❀𓆪 bada headcannons by @urlovebot bada lee x reader

-bada when she’s pursuing you. reader is a lil oblivious and bada’s just like ‘this girl is mine she doesn’t even know it lololol’

𓆩❀𓆪 smut headcannons by @urlovebot bada lee x reader

-gf! bada lee got a corruption kink fr

𓆩❀𓆪 all the time by @urlovebot bada lee x reader | smut(sub bada. pussy fiend bada. bada is down so bad she is in hell. dom!reader(?). reader is a tease and bada is fed up)

-"feels so good bada."

𓆩❀𓆪 mirroring bluebird by @ssivinee bebe!bada lee x bebe!f!reader

-you are the younger sister of moze and had gone viral at the same time as her. while working under sm, you meet bada and become a core member of bebe, but what you get the same treatment your sister did

𓆩❀𓆪 the duplicate by @throughthebluesea bada lee x 1million member!reader | humor-ish, then fluff? sulky jealous bada, reader is utterly whipped since she sees her girl bada on kingbada so much. this is too cute. moment with 1million crew

-the second season of street woman fighter 2 has been the talk of the town since its premiere, alongside the show's fame is its parody counterpart, which is street gagwoman fighter 2, where a group of korea's highly respected comediennes come together and do parodies of the actual show's highlights by enjoycouple on youtube.

𓆩❀𓆪 the duplicate (special chapter) by @throughthebluesea bada lee x 1million member!reader | fluff, a bit humor-ish... bc... king bada is here again. overprotective bada, the rest of team bebe being the biggest instigators

-d-day. the finale episode has arrived, and everyone has been practicing hard, perfecting their final routines.

𓆩❀𓆪 i wanna ruin our friendship by @throughthebluesea bada lee x reader | friends to lovers, bada secretly pining over 'straight' reader, howl is a jerk in this fic, some angst, slightly suggestive (if you squint), lusher and tatter being so supportive, lusher's gaydar never miss.

-"i told you, i can't!"

𓆩❀𓆪 bada lee as your gf by @starrwhispers bada lee x reader | mildly suggestive, women making out!!

𓆩❀𓆪 bada drabble by @starrwhispers bada lee x reader

-imagine doing ur nighttime skincare routine with bada. it’s just such a cute girlfriend moment.

𓆩❀𓆪 blurb by @starrwhispers bada lee x reader | smut

𓆩❀𓆪 head over heels by @badasgirl bada lee x fem!reader | 18+ smut, friends (?) to kinda lovers, slight angst if you kinda like squint, slight fluff, built up tension, reader is shorter than bada,

-a late night studio session turns into something more when bada finally decides it’s time to end whatever tension you both shared.

𓆩❀𓆪 boyfriend by @bluebada bada lee x reader | nsfw(extremely suggestive and very explicit at times). it's giving switch vibes kinda but dom!bada prevail. reader wants it rough. not a complete smut tho.

-where bada is sick of seeing you cry over your stupid boyfriend, and she knows that she can be a better boyfriend to you. so much better than him

𓆩❀𓆪 oh you want me so bad by @badasgirl bada lee x reader | 18+, reader is somewhat shorter than bada, reader is called bunny a lot, CLINGY!BADA

-bada had the longest day of her life and she needs her girlfriend immediately. you just happen to be the best girlfriend in the world and you let bada do whatever she wants.

𓆩❀𓆪 home by @potchi-fics bada lee x reader

-the first thing that probably comes to mind when you hear that is a house, yes? i mean, it's not a wrong answer-- it's just, for you.. your home is a person. no matter where you are, what time it is, as long as you're with her: you are at home.

𓆩❀𓆪 you and me in the moment by @nimxie bada lee x fem!reader

-in the warm of one another, moments like this are perfect.

𓆩❀𓆪 all mine by @badaspebble bada lee x fem!reader | 18+ themes (dom!bada, possessive!bada, semi-public sex, jealously, dirty talk, praise, cunnilingus)

-being on SWF2 was great. meeting new people who were also considered legends was an added plus. you caught many eyes, but one set of eyes in particular stayed on you the entire time. bada notices, and so do you. deciding to dance with haechi wasn’t to make bada jealous, but still. It’s only fair that bada should do something about it.

𓆩❀𓆪 jealous kisses by @badaslovie bada lee x reader | 🤏🏼 suggestive

-bada and tatter were seen holding hands at a concert and you can't help but feel jealous.

𓆩❀𓆪 she's straight.... right? by @bluebada bada lee x fem!reader | highly suggestive, swearing, fake dating, teacher x student, lowercase intended, hword is making an appearance

-in which the woman you want the most is the one you could never have.

𓆩❀𓆪 control freak by @dallaji bada lee x reader | PORN WITHOUT PLOT (like leech rallay NO plot), established relationship, reader is a power bottom and bada is perplexed!! befuddled!!11, bada with a strap, toy

-your girlfriend doesn’t like giving up the reins, but perhaps with some gentle urging she will finally let loose. Even if it's just for a little bit.

𓆩❀𓆪 feel it by @princhii bada lee x fem!reader | 18+, dom!bada, drinking, use of weed, smut, use of strap, sub!reader, age gap (reader is of age, just refers bada as older woman!)

-and just like that, you were there. on her bed. ass up face down. how did you even get there again? oh yeah, that’s right.

𓆩❀𓆪 show you off by @aericrys bada lee x reader | smut

-“Jagiya, stop freaking out, the girls are all really nice, I promise! They’ve been dying to meet you!”

𓆩❀𓆪 100 days by @venuszn dom!bada lee x fem!reader | best friends to lovers, angst, fluff, smut(fingering, nipple play, cunnilingus (bada and reader give and receive), scissoring, emotionally constipated reader, whipped bada, MDNI)

-bada asks you to give her one hundred days to make you fall in love with her.

𓆩❀𓆪 bada lee as the 5 love languages by @venuszn dom!bada lee x fem!reader | smut (ringering, cunnilingus, use of vibrator, bada using a strap, exhibitionism, degradation (but also praise), light bondage, orgasm denial, nipple play, overstimulation, slight choking) and fluff , MDNI

𓆩❀𓆪 jealously, jealously by @handongscult bada lee x reader | possessive/jealous bada, suggestive towards end

-you come on swf2 to have a choreography created for your new song. someone gets a little too bold with you and bada stakes her claim.

𓆩❀𓆪 come get me by @badaspebble bada lee x fem!reader | 18+ themes, (dom!bada, jealous!bada, kinda mean!bada but she’s soft at the end, strap-on use, teasing, hair pulling, semi-public, praise, edging, choking, swearing, dacryphilia)

-bada hasn’t been paying attention to you lately, which is starting to be frustrating. at first it was fine, seeing how much work she had to put into her team. now that SWF was over, there was no need for her to pay so much attention to them. guess you’ll have to make her pay attention to you.

𓆩❀𓆪 too close by @urlovebot bada lee x reader | angst. angry howl, homophobia, minor and very, very minor physical harm done to bada. closeted bada, out and proud reader. its alooooot of angst. some comfort at the end though

-"are you okay?"

𓆩❀𓆪 dating bada lee would include... by @unique-high bada lee x reader

-some things dating this beautifully hot woman would include.

𓆩❀𓆪 heacannons of bada asking insecure reader to sit in her lap by @urlovebot bada lee x reader | extra fluff

𓆩❀𓆪 save room for us by @dallaji bada lee x reader | ex-fwb, university setting, lengthy smut (like 50% ratio), both bada and reader are switches, relationship is the epitome of "its complicated", bada is a mess but please forgive her, author has never used a dating app before, kinda angsty?? hopeful ending though!!

-this could’ve been a perfect night: it was your first time being invited to a sorority house party and you were promised alcohol, decent music and good company. so naturally, because nothing is ever truly perfect, your ex-situationship had to be a part of said sorority.

𓆩❀𓆪 ride it! by @mikaleialt bada lee x reader | fluff, suggestive, smut, drabble

-in a random instagram live, your newly found fans after SWF 2, started asking you random questions about what do you think of each team leaders. for a quick background, you are one of the team leaders in SWF 2, but sadly your team got eliminated after the crew battle mission, after getting defeated by mannequeen on the elimination round along with wolf'lo and lady bounce.

𓆩❀𓆪 bada headcannons by @aericrys bada lee x reader | fluff, smut

𓆩❀𓆪 how bada would handle being in public with her s/o by @bountycancelled bada lee x gn!reader | headcannons, author being delusional, lower case intended, fluff

𓆩❀𓆪 the elevator by @venuszn bada lee x reader | enemies to lovers, angst, fluff

-you and bada are rival choreographers under the same company. bada has always treated you differently and you didn’t know why. You convinced yourself that you hated her for it. but you’re both forced to face each other one evening when the company elevator breaks down and there’s no where to hide - from each other and ur feelings.

𓆩❀𓆪 your so pretty it hurts by @nimxie bada lee x fem!reader | angst, injury

-you never want to worry bada, but when you get hurt and try to hide it. she can’t help it

𓆩❀𓆪 jealousy by @seungxstar bada lee x fem!reader

-how bada would be if she was jealous…

𓆩❀𓆪 .......threesome? by @badaleesbish switch!bada x switch!reader x sub!tatter | NSFW(face sitting, fingering, choking, degrading, praising, use of strap)

-you and tatter decide to try to talk bada into having a threesome. Thinking that bada would turn down the request, you and tatter take some extreme measures to get bada in between the two of you.

𓆩❀𓆪 bada fic by @allur1ngs bada lee x reader

-mafia boss bada reacting to reader in a suit looking badass omg bada would literally drop her jaw

𓆩❀𓆪 her best friends by @mikachacha bada lee x singer!reader x monika shin

-your new song is a huge hit and your two girlfriends wanted to celebrate and spoil you for a job well done

𓆩❀𓆪 only one by @yayayxs bada lee x fem!reader | suggestive if you squint

-after winning street woman fighter nobody expected this…

𓆩❀𓆪 moonstruck pt:1 by @dkluvs bada lee x oc | 2.3k

-in which a romance so forbidden arises between an idol and her favourite choreographer.

𓆩❀𓆪 moonstruck pt:2 by @dkluvs bada lee x oc | 1.6k

-in which a romance so forbidden arises between an idol and her favourite choreographer.

𓆩❀𓆪 new game, new player by @ssivinee bebe!bada lee x dancer! f!reader | 4.7k

-jeon y/n joins SWF to prove that her being the sibling of an idol doesn't make her any less of a dancer, but while trying to do so, she makes new friends and potentially something more.

𓆩❀𓆪 expert level by @ssivinee bebe!bada lee x dancer! f!reader | 5.8k

-Part 2 of "New Game, New Player," suggested to read Part 1 first!

[avis-writeshq]

miya atsumu – a lovely night

genre&warnings: rated 16+ for enemies to lovers, fluff, angst, and slowburn; mentions of eating and unsafe usage of cooking knives!! fem!reader

a/n: it was meant to be a small drabble but i got carried away lmao (i’ve also been working on this for more than a year so my peep my writing style changes LMFAOOO)

w/c: 10k exact

“i hate it here.”

“you say that every morning,” aneko chuckled, tying her hair up in a ponytail. “what happened this time?”

“i have a biology presentation soon and i’m not looking forward to it.” you side-eyed the window, watching as students begin filing out of their dorm rooms and into the walkways that lead to the campus. 

aneko sighed, patting your shoulder. “you’ll do fine. you do well in every presentation, you know that.”

a lopsided smile made its way onto your face as you shrug your bag over your shoulder. “thanks, aneko… i’m gonna get some coffee. you want anything?”

she shook her head ‘no’, and you shrugged, making your way down the stairs, crossing the dormitories to the cafe next to the campus. 

as soon as you took your place in line, a scalding sensation erupts through your shirt and all over your chest, and you jump back in shock and pain. 

“what the hell?” you demand, hissing as the coffee burned your skin. unfortunately, the perpetrator is nowhere to be found, seemingly fleeing the scene. the last thing you see of the person is a volleyball jacket and piss-coloured hair. 

gritting your teeth in frustration, you storm out of the cafe, ignoring the cries of the cafe staff and trailing after him. “oi! piss hair! you little…” a grunt escapes your lips as he makes a turn, disappearing into the sea of students. 

eyes narrowing into slits, you marched your way back to your dorm, throwing the door open. 

“what happened to you?” sakura frowned, getting up from her seat on the couch. “oh, and aneko’s on her date.”

“first of all,” you scowled, dumping your bags on the ground and retreating to the bathroom, “if you ever see a piss-haired brat, punch them in the face for me.”

“piss-haired brat,” she rolled her eyes in amusement before asking, “are you alright, (y/n)?”

tugging the shirt over your head, you stormed back out into the kitchen. “i have a biology presentation in an hour, i had boiling coffee spill on me and the guy didn’t even apologise! and now aneko has to go and flaunt her non-singleness to the world!”

“well, that guy is a douchebag,” she hummed. “and you know you always get the highest score in biology, so that’s not an issue for you. oh and you’re never going to guess what kou-chan told me!”

you raise an unsuspecting eyebrow, “what?”

she squeals, her hand clapping in excitement. “they knows someone who needs a date! he’s looking for a partner!”

your nose scrunched in distaste, “you set me up with six dates since last september and it’s only the beginning of january. do i really want your help in finding a date?”

“i know someone. trust me on this, okay?” she pats your shoulder and smooths out your hair. “are you free tomorrow night?”

“i think so…” you eye her wearily. “i’m trusting you, got it?”

she grins, the smile stretching across her face in excitement, “i won’t let you down! oh, you should start heading to biology.”

you nod, “alright… i’ll see you later. it’s your turn to buy groceries, so don’t forget!” 

shooting you a thumbs up, sakura goes back to her fashion magazine, and you close the dorm door. maybe the day would get better? it can only go up from here… right? shaking the negative thoughts out of your head, you half-jog to the lecture hall, clutching at the strap of your shoulder bag. the hall is already half-filled with people reading over their notes, doing last-minute editing, and practising. 

finding a seat near the middle, you began taking out all your notes from your bag. as you read through your entire presentation, the chair beside you screeched as someone took a seat there. 

glancing up at the person to say a quick greeting and then you realised — “you!”

you bolted up from your seat, your eyes narrowed and the chair screeched as it dragged against the floor. he gapes, watching you stand.

“the hell ya talkin’ about?”

“you–” you flinched as the sharp hushing of students met your ears and you bowed sheepishly in apology. you turned back to the smug-looking brat, hissing your explanations. “the main issue is the fact that you spilled hot coffee on me. what’s worse is how you didn’t even apologise!” 

he chuckled, “i see. you’re just a fan who wants attention! okay, you can watch our volleyball practice–”

“i don’t want to watch your stupid volleyball practice!” you snapped, gathering your books and shoving them into your bag. “unless you want to apologise, i don’t want to see your ugly face and piss hair.”

“hey–”

flipping him off as discreetly as possible, you stalked your way over to the other side of the lecture hall, sitting in between two students. 

one raised their eyebrow at you. “is miya atsumu your boyfriend?”

you scoffed, muttering under your breath, “atsumu? what a shitty name…” you turn back to them, “no, he’s not my boyfriend. if he was, he would be dead by now.”

they nod, eyebrows raised, before turning back to their notes. 

you, on the other hand, were left to your thoughts. miya? where have you heard that name before? and why the hell did he look so familiar?

*** 

“oi–”

“are you going to apologise?” you asked, not looking at him as you pack up your things after your successful presentation. “listen, buddy, i'm in a good mood. something i don’t want you screwing up.”

“i’m not here to apologise,” he huffed, “but maybe i can make it up to you?”

“i only want an apology, sweet cheeks,” a sarcastic smile bloomed on your face, and you patted his cheek snarkily. “now if you excuse me, i would like to get the coffee i couldn’t get this morning.”

“i’ll treat you,” atsumu offered and you shot him a glare.

“sure. i’ll take an apology with a side of sincerity.”

the smile on your face grew wider and you walked out of the lecture room and into the throng of students. 

*** 

“i sure hope that this date of mine is as good as you say…” you hummed, searching through your bag to make sure you have everything. “why does it have to be at this fancy restaurant again?”

“because the guy just so happens to be extra,” sakura says, taking a left turn and parking in front of a tall building. “you are wearing the heels i gave you right?”

you nodded begrudgingly, recalling how she forced you to wear them before you left your dorm.

she squealed, her bright blue eyes gleaming with happiness. “okay, so here’s the rundown. the restaurant is ise sueyoshi–”

“i’m sorry, ise sueyoshi, as in one of the most expensive restaurants in all of tokyo?”

“i tried to talk him out of it,” she defended, grimacing at the thought of the bill. “look, it’ll be fine. just don’t think about it, okay? after the restaurant, you’ll take a nice walk around the city! oh, and i’m confiscating your keys.”

you blanched, “what, why?”

“so that you can’t ditch him halfway. no one is going to be home until your date is over, so there’s no reason for you to ditch.” she grinned, “you’ll be fine! he’s a good guy, trust me on this.”

you groaned in annoyance but pushed the car door open. “i’ll call you when i get inside the restaurant.”

she beamed, yelling, “the reservation is under hasegawa sakura!” before driving off into the distance. 

a sigh left your lips as you stomp your way inside the building, taking the lift to the 11th floor. after entering the restaurant, you take a seat, looking at the bright city of tokyo below you. 

“what a view, huh?”

no. you scowled, looking up at atsumu. “i’ve seen better.”

he shrugged, taking the seat in front of you and swirling his cup of wine around. “so yer my blind date. i would have thought that sakura had better friends.” 

you sneered as you rose from your seat. “i was thinking the same thing. the only reason i’m on this stupid date is because of her, anyway.”

he grinned, and you felt a chill run down your spine as he says, “so ya asked her to set’cha up with me? very cute, sweetheart, but if ya wanted to go on a date with me, ya could have just asked.”

you scoffed, “i know full well about your reputation with girls, sweetheart. they go up to you all starry-eyed and then you break their hearts. besides, why the hell would i be attracted to someone like you?”

atsumu flinched at the honesty in your voice. do people really see him as some dream crusher heart breaker? “listen, sweet cheeks–” he relished in the way your cheeks darken at his words– “i am a great person.”

“yes, because every ‘great person’ flaunts about it in the hallways. yes, miya, you’re a great person.” the sarcasm rolled off your tongue fluidly, and he can’t help but roll his eyes when you speak again. “i lost my appetite. excuse me.”

he bolted up from his seat, eyes wide as you throw your bag over your shoulder and make your way out of the restaurant. “woah, woah, woah. do ya know how hard it was to get a reservation here? i even got a suit for this!”

“no, i don’t know how hard it was to get a reservation here. and this is just further proof you’re an asshole. you want to show off your money to some random stranger, knowing entirely that it’s a blind date.” you fake a smile and bow to the staff members.

atsumu faltered in  his step before continuing to run after you. “okay, listen–”

“no, i am not going to listen, because the only thing that comes out of your mouth is bullshit. come on sakura, pick up…” 

“(l/n)–”

“stop! okay, just… just stop.” your nostrils flared, and you turned around to shoot him a venomous glare. “i don’t care about you or your dumb polyester suit–”

“it’s wool.”

“–but you have to be stupid to think that i’d ever fall for you.” 

he groaned, wiping his face in frustration. “we’re both doing this for sakura so can ya just cooperate for one damn night?”

you grit your teeth, eyeing him carefully, “okay. just one night.”

*** 

“i have t’ask,” atsumu begins, your bag thrown haphazardly over his shoulder. “why are ya on this date anyway? woulda thought that someone as charming as you would have had a date by now.”

“i could ask you the same question,” you quip, eyes fixated on the bright city lights that you could see from the aoyama bridge. “it’s not important anyway.”

he shrugged, “just wanted to know why.”

“both sakura and aneko have boyfriends. it kind of sucks to be the third wheel all the time. they give me hell for not doing anything on friday nights, too,” you shrug, “i mean, it’s not a big deal.”

atsumu snorts at your words. “so you want a date for the sake of having a date?”

“i want a date for the sake of not being lonely,” you correct, “but i think i’m going to have to be lonely for the time being.”

“an’ why do you think that?” a lazy smirk rests on his lips. “i’d be a perfect boyfriend.”

“yeah, that’d appeal to someone who believes in romance,” you laugh, patting his cheek and taking your bag off him. 

to miya atsumu, life is a competition to be the best. who can win the most volleyball games? who can get the highest test result? who can eat the most onigiris from onigiri miya without taking breaks? life to him is a competition. it’s a race to the finish line and the person who gets there first is the winner. and what you just said? it sounds an awful lot like a challenge.

“alright then,” he grins at you, “i’ll make you fall in love with me by… say, end of june.”

“what’s that going to do for you? give you an ego boost?” you roll your eyes, “i’m not doing that.”

“scared, sweetheart?”

crossing your arms over your chest, you shoot him a glare. “no, i’m not. but i hope you realise that i am frankly feeling nothing.”

“is that so?”

“mmm, no. in fact, it could be less than nothing.” 

he chuckles, “good to know. so, you agree?”

“that this is a waste of a lovely night? yes.”

“you know what i mean. if i can make you fall in love with me by the end of june, you have to be my girlfriend.” 

you snort in response, “if i didn’t know any better, miya, i’d say you’re in love with me.” 

he rolls his eyes, clearly ignoring your first remark. “alright then, choose your prize if you’re so confident.”

“if you fall in love with me…” you hum an evil glint in your eye, “i get total and full control over your social media.”

he smirks, holding out his hand for you to shake. “anything for you, princess.”

*** 

to you, life was about survival. don’t die, don’t mess up, don’t be a failure. that also meant ‘don’t get lonely, because that just screws things up for everyone’. aneko had eito, her boyfriend since high school, and sakura had taniguchi kou, the manager for the ejp volleyball team. that must have been how she even had connections to miya atsumu in the first place. survival was also not doing anything unnecessary. whether it be sleeping at ungodly hours, binge-watching an entire anime, or just studying too much, you couldn’t do that because it’ll destroy your schedule the next day. your life was based on routine. that is, it was based on routine. 

“hey, (y/n), there’s some mail for you!” aneko yells out into the dorm, waving a pristine envelope around.

you raise an eyebrow. “it’s probably junk, just throw it out!”

“i’m gonna open it, okay?” she beams at you as you crack an egg into the pan.

“knock yourself out.” 

you hum quietly to yourself as you turn off the stove and move the egg on top of your rice. grabbing a pair of chopsticks from your drawer, you cut through the egg, just as you hear a squeal.

“(y/n), oh my god, did you buy volleyball tickets? they’re vips, too!”

“what?” you push your seat back, grabbing the envelope from aneko’s hands. “i didn’t buy any volleyball tickets? it’s probably been given to the wrong person.”

“but there was a note for you in the envelope…” she frowned, “are you sure that it’s not for you?”

confusion was clear on your face as you pulled the note out, but it was replaced with a look of pure annoyance when you realised exactly who the note was from. 

‘dear: (l/n) (y/n),

see you in the stands ;)

from: atsumu <3’

a deep scowl plasters itself onto your face and you dial his number into your phone. 

“did you–”

“you absolute asshole!” you yell into your phone, swiftly cutting him off, slapping a hand against your forehead. “i’m not going to your dumb volleyball game, got it? i have things to do and places to be.”

“you and i both know that isn’t true, sweetheart,” he snorts and you can practically hear his eye roll. “you told me yourself - you don’t usually have plans on friday nights.”

you grimace because yes, you did say that. “well maybe i have plans now?” the words came out as a question and he chuckles.

“come on, it’ll be fun!” 

“we’ll see,” you mutter before hanging up. 

*** 

“i’ve never been in a proper volleyball stadium before,” aneko says as she bit into her onigiri. “i can’t believe you got vip tickets, (n/n)!”

“yeah… amazing,” you manage, a meek smile plastered on your face. 

the entire stadium looks as if a rainbow puked on it. bright, colourful posters to support the players well held high in the air by multiple people. banners hang over the stands, the team’s logo and motto drawn in neat calligraphy... the multitude of people who came to watch was overwhelming – almost every seat has been filled. 

“the first match is… black jackals versus the sendai frogs!” aneko beams as she looks at the flyer. “wow, they’re both really good. (y/n), look at them!”

forcing the flyer in front of your face, you push it away from you so you could properly read it, taking note of the team members. each of the members on both teams look good — really good. you look around yourself and chuckle, of course. no wonder it was so full. most of the fans are girls anyway. 

one girl, sporting a bright blue shirt with the words ‘go atsumu!’, happens to catch your eye. she’s a typical popular girl — false clumpy lashes that you can spot from a mile away, hair curled in obnoxious rings, and a banner that screamed ‘look at me!’. you can tell from the amused looks the people gave her that she is a common spectator at msby games. 

“that’s emiko etsudo,” aneko grumbles, catching your gaze, “she’s in my lecture and never stops talking.”

“seems to be the type,” you snort, turning back to the volleyball courts where the players began to take their places.

the black jackals are insane. even when they were just starting up you can already tell how skilled they are. each spike that hits against the glossy wooden floors sends shivers down your spine. as the game went on and got more intense, it’s clear that msby was in the lead in the fifth set. both teams won two sets each, an impressive feat in itself, and the score for the fifth set is close — 11-10 in the jackal’s favour.

soon enough, atsumu’s turn to serve came around after a quick rotation, and the cheerleaders and band immediately fell into a hush. your eyes meet with atsumu and he sends a wink your way, resulting in a high pitched shriek to resound throughout the stadium. you can hear emiko freaking out and screaming that he was winking at her, amusing you. sending a small, two-fingered salute back at atsumu, you brushed your pants down as you stood up.

“i’m gonna head off to the bathroom for a second. i’ll be right back, okay?” 

aneko nods, fully immersed in the game. letting out a tired sigh, you leave the gym, searching for the restroom. the volleyball game must have ended a lot quicker than you expected when an entire team walks past you, almost trampling you in the process. 

“well, well, well. what do we have here?” 

you groan, “miya. i’m assuming you won?”

“don’t look so excited,” he grins boyishly, and you ignore the warming of your heart as he does. “we’re gonna go get some drinks after we win. care to join?”

he slings a sweaty arm over your shoulder and you cringe, pushing his arm off. “i don’t do drinks.”

“you harassing someone, miya?” a lazy voice drawls from behind you, and you almost jump at the random voice.

“o’course not, omi-kun!” atsumu snorts, “this is (y/n)!”

“(l/n),” you correct, patting his back sarcastically, “we’re not quite there yet.”

‘omi-kun’ raises an eyebrow. “right. nice to meet you.” and with that, he followed the rest of the team into the locker room, hands stuffed into his pockets. 

“that’s a character.” you roll your eyes. “anyway, i better head back to aneko. she’s probably getting worried.”

“i’ll walk ya,” he offers, a bright smile on his face, only for it to fall within seconds. 

“miya? what’s—”

a harsh squeal meets your ears and you flinch, whipping around to see etsudo, her merch in plain view and looking like a disco ball. 

“atsumu, oh my god, you were so good out there!” her high pitched voice rings in your ears. 

“shut up—” atsumu begins, but stops short. your words echo in his head, ‘they go up to you all starry-eyed and then you break their hearts’. “yeah, whatever.”

etsudo’s eyes widen and you can practically see the excitement oozing out of her. “i knew you’d love me!”

“how do you get that from— never mind,” you shake your head, a sarcastic smile on your face as you begin to walk away. “i’m gonna go. good luck with this, miya.”

“wait, hold on,” atsumu fumbles, running past etsudo and trailing behind you. “i said i would walk ya.”

“but you were having such a good time with your fangirl,” you say innocently, battering your eyelashes. “emiko etsudo, i think her name is?”

“don’t remind me,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, “she’s gone to every game and thinks that i’m in love with her or something. spoiled pig…”

“so you don’t like her? do you hate all your fans?” you raise an eyebrow, both in curiosity and in disbelief.

he shrugs, a smirk on his face. “not all of them. you’re the only one i can tolerate.”

“smooth,” you laugh, “how many girls did you use that one on?”

“just one,” he hums, bumping his side gently against yours. 

you can’t deny the fluttering of your insides as he does and you scold yourself. this is a game to him — he doesn’t feel anything for you. 

“how nice of you,” you say, trying to ignore the growing blush on your cheeks and the heat that’s crawled up to your ears. “well, there’s aneko. i’m gonna go…”

“alright, then.” he grins, taking your hand and kissing the back of it. “until next time, sweet cheeks.” 

you gape as he leaves, cheeks hot with embarrassment and surprise. “wha-”

“(y/n), oh my god, was that atsumu?” aneko demands, shaking you to answer. 

you don’t respond, trying to calm yourself down from shock, your heart racing a thousand times an hour. you don’t mean anything to him. you’re a game to him — a game that he plays just to show everyone else that he is better than them.

“(y/n)? are you okay?”

you jolt out of your trance, blinking tiredly. “oh. yeah. i’m fine.”

*** 

“atsumu-san, who was that?” hinata bounds up to him, all smiles after winning against his longtime rival. 

“(l/n) (y/n), apparently,” sakusa responds, his hands still stuffed in his pockets and a towel around his shoulders. 

“oh, she’s sakura-chan’s friend, right?” bokuto asks brightly and takes a bite of his protein bar. 

atsumu nods, mind distant as he thinks about where to take you on your next ‘date’. it wouldn't be a real date if he already bet on it, right? would a cafe work? what about a cat cafe? do you even like cats?

“oi, miya.”

he looks up to see sakusa, and he grins, “knew i’d grow on you, omi-omi~”

“your face looks gross,” he scrunches his face in disgust.

“you had a funny look on your face, atsumu-san!” hinata laughs. 

“like how taniguchi-san looks at sakura-chan!” bokuto agrees side-eying atsumu who was no longer paying attention to the conversation. 

currently, atsumu was thinking of a million ways he could win your heart. he was thinking of a million ways to get you to fall for him, all so that he can prove to you that he isn’t as bad as you think he is. he had a little over a month to get you to fall in love with him and, granted, he did spill boiling coffee over you and then proceeded to not apologise. scratching his head in thought, a lightbulb suddenly dinged in his head. there is only one person in the world who knows everything about everything. and in this case? everyone. 

*** 

“nice try. not happening,” sakura responds swiftly, turning away from the setter. “look, atsumu, you’re my friend and all, but the fact that you want to win my best friend over for the sake of your pride isn’t a good enough reason to ‘get to know her’. if anything, it makes you seem like an even shitter person than everyone perceives you to be.”

he snorts at her words, “you really are a friend of (y/n). come on, sakura-chan! i just need to know what she likes! that’s all!”

sakura grits her teeth, beginning to regret sending you on that date with this piss-haired brat. “i don’t care, atsumu. i’m not going to let you break her heart for the sake of your stupid pride. you want to use someone for your stupid experiment? fine, not my problem, but you’re going to use my best friend.”

he flinches at her icy tone, now understanding why kou-san warned him about getting on sakura’s bad side. despite her incredibly bright and sunny disposition, she really was incredibly terrifying when it came to the people that she cared about which was not good for him. next attempt? fukuhara aneko. 

“i don’t understand why you’re trying so hard,” aneko remarks as she invites atsumu into the shared apartment, “you’re doing this… because you want to be known as some dreamboat who breaks girls’ hearts left right and centre?”

“i’m doing this to prove a point,” atsumu corrects, “but when you say it that way—”

“i am not going to let you break my best friend’s heart,” aneko cuts in, taking a knife out of the knife block and waving it around halfheartedly, relishing in the way the setter flinches. “nice try, though.”

he groans in annoyance, “sakura-chan said the same thing.”

“then why are you trying?” aneko demands, frustration clear in her voice, “you’re putting all this effort in to ‘prove a point’. do you know how ridiculous you sound? what’s the real reason you want to win (y/n) over?”

at her words, atsumu falls silent. as cliche as it seemed, you were interesting to him. you’re different, and at his thoughts, the volleyball player cringes internally. to be entirely fair, and to give you credit, you stood your ground around him which was admirable, to say the least. unlike the other ‘spoiled pigs’, you actually have some sort of awareness. maybe he… 

he shakes his head, snorting quietly. as if he attracted to someone the likes of you. 

“i’ll figure it out myself,” atsumu concludes, avoiding aneko’s unimpressed gaze. “she has to fall for me at some point. does she have any social media?”

“i thought you said that you’ll figure it out yourself,” aneko responds drily. “why don’t you just ask her yourself? let me guess; your pride?"

to atsumu, that sounded a whole lot like a challenge. 

*** 

for a friday morning, you were surprisingly busy, especially because of all the practice exams you’ve been doing as preparation for an exam that will take place in less than three months. but of course, no day passes without a few random interruptions. 

“hey, sweetheart, you doing anything?” 

atsumu’s annoying voice rang in your ears through the phone, and you couldn’t help but grit your teeth. “what do you want, miya?”

“i was just wondering if there’s anything in particular you wanted to do, lately,” he responds, his voice in a sing-song tone. “just figured i should take you out on a better date.”

you scoff at his proposal, “nice try, miya. you’re not getting me that easily.”

“aw, don’t be like that, darling! i’ll take you out to get coffee, how about that?”

a silence washes over you as you consider his offer. to be entirely fair, you couldn’t really say no to a free food, and it did give him a chance to redeem himself. not to mention you definitely did need the coffee at some point.

“alright, miya, let’s do it.” you shrug, not that he could see it, “when and where?”

“i’ll text you the address,” he responds, and you can hear the pride and smugness through the phone. “see you there, babe.”

from: miya

hey princess!

from: miya

[sent location]

from: miya

see you in 20!

a sigh escapes your lips, not believing that you actually let yourself be dragged into this mess – a mess that was only made for atsumu’s pride and ego. picking up your bag, you made your way over to the location he sent you, praying that it wasn’t some sick joke and that you weren’t about to be murdered. 

your arrival at the cafe doesn’t go unnoticed by the volleyball player, the little bell at the door welcoming you in and announcing your presence to the rest of the people inside. you don’t miss the way atsumu’s head spins around to look at you, a boyish grin spreading onto his face as if to say, “i can’t believe you’re actually here.” you find it funny, considering how he’s the one who invited you here in such an ominous way. he waves you over enthusiastically – too enthusiastically – and you ignore the quickening of your heart at the way he looks so excited to see you. 

he’s not happy to see you, you have to remind yourself – although you feel your heart begin to sink at your own thoughts. you huff, now is not the time to be caught up in his romantic theatrics. the only reason why he’s so excited to see you is to rub it in your face that you actually fell for it. right?

“i already ordered for us!” atsumu said happily, taking a sip of his coffee for affect, “ya don’t mind, do ya, princess?” 

“atsumu, do you really think i’m a princess?” you ask, batting your eyelashes. 

“ya know i do, princess!” he smiles, pushing a dark chocolate mocha towards you.

“then stop making decisions for me,” you deadpan, crossing your legs. “how do you even know what i order anyway?”

another obnoxious grin your way as he answers, “i have connections.”

you scoff once again, rolling your eyes as you lifted the drink to your lips. 

atsumu hates the way his eyes fell to your lips as you spoke and he hates the way his heart began to pound the second you stepped through the door of the cafe. he isn’t supposed to feel this way – he’s not supposed to like you. so he suppresses his feelings. as usual. 

the date – could you even call it a date? – ended on a positive note to your surprise. atsumu was clearly doing his best to be ‘the man of your dreams’, and as much as you appreciated his gentlemanly ways, you hated to admit that you missed his teasing charms and his childish antics. the idea of you missing his annoying nature is beyond your own understanding, to the point where you were almost sure that he had successfully brainwashed you. 

you shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts away as you return to the present. atsumu decided to walk you back to your dorm which, to give him credit, was actually quite sweet of him… even though you kept insisting that it wasn’t necessary. 

“hey, lets do this again sometime,” you find yourself saying, realising that you actually did enjoy the boy’s company. “it was fun!”

he smirks smugly at you, and you had to laugh as he says, “i knew i’d grow on you, love!”

“just be yourself next time,” you snort, patting him on the shoulder as you walk to the entrance of your dorm building. “i’m paying!”

“as if!” he yells back, and you smile as he waves goodbye. 

you’re left to your thoughts as you ride the elevator to the seventh floor, thinking over what just transpired. it was weird – considering atsumu’s naturally flirtatious character – and if you had to be completely honest with yourself, it was unnerving seeing him do a complete one-eighty regarding his personality. 

the biggest thing that worried you was how he was so willing and quick to change his personality for someone. was he that desperate to prove himself to a complete stranger?

“so…?”

you hear a voice as you enter your dorm. there, sakura leaned against the kitchen counter, the biggest and the smuggest look on her face. 

“how was the date?” she coos, eyes glistening in mischief. 

“weird,” you respond, dropping your bags to the side as you pull a chair out to sit. “sakura, you know him. has he ever been in any… bad relationships?”

she thinks for a moment before responding, “why do you ask?”

you shrug, resting your chin on the palm of your hand. “he just seems to eager to prove how macho he is. did something happen?”

“from what i know, and from what kou’s told me, he’s always been like that. you could always ask osamu-san, though. you know him, the owner of onigiri miya.”

you clicked your fingers in acknowledgement, “so that’s why he looked so familiar! i haven’t been to that place in ages!”

she nods, “ask osamu. tell him i sent you.”

*** 

“kombu-onigiri for (l/n) (y/n)!” osamu calls out to the small crowd of people, and you have to do a double take when you see him. 

he was practically the same as atsumu, aside from his dark grey eyes and ash brown hair, and you had to hold your tongue from complaining. 

“thanks,” you smile, taking the little bag. 

“i haven’t seen you in a while,” osamu comments as he prepares another order. “busy with uni?”

you sigh tiredly, “it is what it is. i wanted to talk to you about something.”

he nods, “shoot. umekaka-onigiri for kimura!”

“it’s about atsumu.”

he stops before turning to you slowly. “... let’s wait until i close, yeah? happy to wait for another hour or so?”

“take your time.”

time passes quickly among the quiet vocaloid music and the volleyball game that played on the tv overhead, as well as the multitude of customers that came and went. osamu gave you complimentary onigiris while you waited and despite your initial denial of the free food, you had to give in to the soft smell of caramelised rice and sesame oil. 

it was well past seven o’clock by the time osamu was able to speak to you, but at least you were well fed while you waited. 

“sorry about that,” osamu apologises, untying his apron and placing a cup of hot green tea in front of you. “what did you want to talk about?”

at that moment, you want to scream at the universe. of course, you’re stuck with the annoying stuck up brat instead of the sweet chef that sat in front of you. 

“don’t worry about it,” you smile, wrapping your hands around the warm cup. “atsumu… has he ever been in any bad romantic relationships?”

he doesn’t respond directly, instead chuckling and asking, “you’re the girl he’s seeing, aren’t you? the hard-headed one? what does he call you again? oh, ‘princess’, was it?”

you raise an eyebrow, “he talks about me?”

he smirks, leaning back in his seat and there’s a smugness as he says, “a lot more than you think, princess.”

you take back everything you said about the universe. both the miya twins were equally insufferable. 

“don’t call me that. and answer the question!”

his face falls from the obnoxious grin he once had and settles into a frown. “he was. a year ago, with… tachibana reina, i think. fucking bitch.”

your eyes widen at the sudden coldness and spite that drips from his words. “what happened?”

“cheated on him. treated him like shit. god… no wonder he’s been going on so many dates.” he runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “i shouldn’t tell you this, and frankly i shouldn’t be telling you anything, but…”

he looks around, almost comically, before saying, “i really think you’re good for him, (y/n). i’m serious. out of all the girls he’s gone on dates with, he’s made it pretty clear that he likes you.”

you almost laugh if he wasn’t so serious. “he’s only trying so hard to prove a point, osamu. he doesn’t feel anything for me.”

he sips his green tea, laughing quietly, “i promise he actually likes you. he’s just scared, y’know?”

“from everything you’ve told me? i get it.” it’s your turn to frown as you digest his words. “i just need to take care of myself too, that’s all.”

“just talk to him. really, he’s not as bad a guy as you’d expect.”

*** 

after days of psyching yourself up – only to psych yourself out – you find yourself waiting at the university gym, cringing internally at the smell of sweat and antiperspirant. but all that goes away the moment you sit at the bleachers, the manager of the team nodding in acknowledgement. the rest of the volleyball team didn’t seem to notice your entry into the gym, and if they did, they clearly didn’t pay any mind to it as they continued their practice game. and damn was it a view. strangely enough, you found your eyes to linger a little too long on a familiar blond player, him sporting the number ‘7’ on his jersey. 

as much as you wanted to deny it, it was undeniably cute and inspiring to see him work so hard. but it all comes crashing down when he lands awkwardly on his leg after a block. 

it all happens so quickly; the captain calling for a time-out, the manager rushing over to him and the coach yelling for everyone to give him some room. you stand from your seat, hoping to get a better view of what was going on, and you did. and you wished you just stayed seated or you could purge the image out of your memory.

there atsumu sat, trying and failing to get up without anyone’s help. it was a painful scene to watch as he gasped in pain and exhaustion, denying his captain’s hand and ignoring his manager’s pleas to let the rest of the team help him. 

“hey, atsumu…” 

his neck snaps to look at you, your hand outstretched with a lopsided smile on your face (you tried to make it reassuring). 

“come on, ‘tsumu. let’s get you to the infirmary.”

you help him wrap an arm over your neck as you hoist him up, him balancing on his good leg. 

“i got it from here,” you say to the coach who let out a heave of relief. 

“thank you, (l/n).”

the walk to the infirmary was quiet, and although it was only a short distance, the journey seemed to stretch on and on. the moment he makes his presence aware to the nurse, she fusses over him, almost like a mother goose tending to her child. 

it was obvious that atsumu was doing his best to stay strong, despite how his brown eyes glossed over with tears and how he hissed in pain when the nurse moved his ankle slightly. 

“a sprain,” she says to the both of you, before addressing the boy in front of her. “grade two sprain, teetering to grade three. i’m calling six weeks off the ankle and then rehab for two weeks.”

“that’s… two months?” 

the voice crack is evident in the setter’s voice and he’s on the verge of tears. you would be, too if you were in his shoes. taking one month off to recover is already bad enough for an athlete, let alone two. 

she nods, “i’ll let your coach know. stay off the ankle, atsumu, i mean it.” she turns to you, “you make sure of it, okay?”

“of course.”

you drive atsumu’s car (a fancy mercedes because apparently their team was sponsored by them or something like that) to his dorm, helping him onto the couch. 

“are you okay?”

he nods and you watch him swallow the lump in his throat.

you ask him again, and it’s only then when he cries. you sit beside him as he cries into the crook of your neck, his hair tickling your cheek and your ear as you rub his back. you press kisses to the top of his head, denying every horrible harsh thing that comes out of his mouth. he cries and cries until there’s nothing left to cry about. he cries about his injury and how he’s letting everyone down. he cries about how he’s never good enough and how you deserve better – someone who isn’t stuck up and obnoxious. he cries about reina and how it’s his fault she fell out of love with him. he cries about how he was horrible to osamu, his brother who put up with all his problems and who always treats him with kindness despite everything. he apologises and apologises until he falls asleep in your arms, and at that moment you shed a tear. 

you hate yourself for all the harsh things you say about him behind closed doors. you hate the way you thought of him as a nuisance because, god, he is the furthest thing from a nuisance. you hate the way you used to wish he wasn’t in your life because you realise that now you wouldn’t know how life would be without seeing his pretty face and his genuine joy to see you. 

you move him so that he can rest his head on a cushion – a feat in itself considering that he’s 73 kilograms of pure muscle – before making a phone call.

when he finally wakes, the first thing he sees is you. 

“you’re awake,” you say, more to yourself than to him. 

“sorry,” he responds, his eyes puffy and swollen, and you raise an eyebrow at his word as he pushes himself up from the couch so that his back was against the backrest. 

“you don’t need to apologise,” you chuckle, “anyway, i called osamu-san about what happened and he brought some food for you to eat.”

he’s silent, looking up at you, confusion clear in his eyes. why are you being so… nice to him?

“i thought you hated me,” he says bitterly, his gaze shifting to his hands. 

you falter, and you stop stirring the udon. “i… i’m sorry.” you look back at the pot, “i never… i never hated you.”

he scoffs in disbelief, “you did. i know you did.”

“i didn’t,” you respond firmly, moving to pour the udon into a large bowl, “i didn’t hate you. i think i hated the idea that you were using me, or something.” you sprinkle some spring onions over the udon before topping it up with an egg and the tempura that osamu helped you fry earlier. “that’s what you wanted, isn’t it? this entire thing is a game – a bet – to boost your ego.” he’s quiet as you talk, and you sigh in both frustration and regret. “but i never hated you. and i’m sorry that you felt like i did.”

you place the bowl in front of him on the coffee table, wiping your hands on your pants awkwardly. “um, yeah… i’m gonna clean up now so… call me when you need me, i guess.” 

“can you stay here?” atsumu asks suddenly, and you nod. 

“sure.”

*** 

despite all your protests and your pleas, you, osamu, and atsumu walk into the university gym four weeks later. well, it wasn’t so much walking for atsumu as it was wheeling him through the glass sliding doors. that was your condition for him to enter the gym: for him to sit in a wheel chair while you wheel him around. sure, wheeling around a man the size of atsumu isn’t what you would consider to be fun, but the doctor did call for at least six weeks off the injury, and you weren’t about to be scolded by a medical personnel. osamu tags along with you, saying that he wanted to ‘see his brother in his misery’. 

cheers and greetings from the team flood your ears, and you grin happily at all of them. of course, sakusa wastes no time in shooting sarcastic comments to atsumu, but you know that deep down he’s happy that his friend is doing okay with his injury. hinata and bokuto are beyond excited, high-fiving atsumu and telling him that they can’t wait for him to get back onto the court. meian scolds atsumu lightly for not taking care of himself, but he turns to you with a grateful smile. 

you smile at the scene, standing off to the side with a few other people as you watch everyone reconnect with their ‘long lost team member’ when you notice osamu’s face fall. his expression hardens and he narrows his eyes at the door. 

“osamu, what–”

one look at the gym doors is enough to make your heart fall as a tall girl stands at the entrance. it’s almost impossible to miss her – what, with her obnoxious outfit that doesn’t fit a university gym in the slightest – as she looks around the gym with a raised eyebrow. it’s only when she sees atsumu does her expression change into a ridiculous tear-stricken look, her eyebrows knitting together as her brilliant blue eyes well with tears. 

“atsumu!” she cries, and everyone turns around as her high-pitched voice enters their ears. 

meian blinks in confusion before turning to atsumu, whose face is now pale white before settling into a frown. 

“atsumu-san, who is that?”

“tachibana reina,” osamu scowls, stepping in front of his brother protectively. “what the hell are you doing here?”

tachibana sniffs before wiping a stray tear off from her cheek. “i heard that atsumu-chan was injured so i came right away!”

you grit your teeth, moving to stand beside the onigiri-maker. “he was injured four weeks ago. if you really did care, you would have at least called earlier.”

her expression shifts in an almost comical way, an eyebrow raising at you and she speaks as if you burned her. “who are you?”

“we could ask you the same question,” sakusa spits back, lifting his mask up to cover his face as he expresses his hostility. 

samson foster, the coach of msby, steps forward to meet with tachibana, and you can tell that he isn’t at all pleased. first of all, she decides to wear three-inch high heels into a gym, proceeds to jump herself onto an injured team member, and she didn’t even ask to visit from one of the team or staff members. 

you crouch beside atsumu so that you can look in his eyes as you ask him, “you want to go now?”

he swallows thickly, eyes flicking to where tachibana stands, before nodding. “yeah.” he looks away from you when he says it. 

“okay.”

you nod in acknowledgement to the rest of the team, osamu saying that he wanted to be with the team in hopes to diffuse the situation and in hopes of sending tachibana packing. sakusa raises an eyebrow at you and you smile reassuringly, mouthing the words, ‘i’ll text you later’, which he responds with a nod of his own. 

“she has some nerve,” you comment as you drive through the freeway. “coming all the way here, i mean. she’s already done so much to hurt you and she just pops in from out of the blue?” you scoff, shaking your head as you indicate left to reach the exit. “i’ve only met her for ten seconds and i already hate her. how did you even survive dating her for as long as you did?”

he chuckles from beside you, “i guess we all make bad dating mistakes.”

“she’s the worst.” you roll your eyes, pulling up to his driveway. “you have the patience of a fucking saint.”

you help him into his apartment, quietly hoping that the issue at the gym has been diffused. you doubt it, considering the stories atsumu has told you about his lying ex-girlfriend, but you had to hope for the best. 

“regardless of whether or not she actually cares for you, her actions were uncalled for.” you continue as you prop up your laptop on the coffee bench. “did you see osamu’s face?”

he laughs loudly, moving to sit closer next to you. “he has a dumb face.”

“you have the same face!” you cry out, clapping him on the shoulder. “anyway, i have an exam in a couple days, so hush.”

he shoots you another cheeky grin and you condemn the way your heart stutters in your chest.  

“anything you say, princess.”

*** 

“welcome back,” coach foster chuckles, clapping atsumu on the back as he walks into the gym. “your ankle all good? you went to all your rehab sessions, right?”

“o’course!” atsumu grins, stumbling a little from the force of the clap. “(Y/N) wouldn’t let me skip any even if i wanted to.”

bokuto snickers, “oh yeah, your girlfriend!”

atsumu chuckles at his friends words, waving them off. “nah, she’s not my girlfriend.”

“but you like her, right?” hinata is quick to respond, wiggling his brows. “even sakusa likes her!”

atsumu’s face morphs into a betrayed one as he wails teasingly, drooping and arm over his friend. “no, omi-omi, how could you do this to me?!”

“get off.” sakusa grumbles not unkindly. “you smell.”

“oi, i showered!”

while atsumu was living his life, you were tempted to stay at home for a week while your mourned. what exactly were you mourning though? simple: the fact that you were very much gaining feelings for miya atsumu. in other words, you were wallowing in your misery. this wasn’t supposed to happen. you weren’t supposed to let him win. 

“it’s really not that bad,” sakura offers, patting your head sympathetically. “i know it’s not ideal-”

“not ideal?” you demand, bringing your head up fro your pillows to glare at her. “this is, like, the worst thing that could happen!”

“i think you’re overreacting,” aneko offers from the otherside of the couch, rolling her eyes when your bury your face into the pillow in your arms again. 

“i’m not overreacting,” you groan, words muffled by the pillows. you lift your head up once again and you scrunch your face in frustration. “he’s- he’s- this entire thing is a game to him! he doesn’t even like me!”

“i really doubt that,” sakura says gently, rubbing your back. “i know it might seem like he’s an asshole, but he’s a really nice person.”

aneko snorts, “i don’t think you need to tell her that.”

“i hate you both!” you complain, flopping backwards in your agitation. “he’s going to break my heart.”

your friends exchange looks before aneko pipes up once again. “maybe you should talk to him about it.”

“as if!” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest. “he’s just going to rub it in my face.”

sakura squeezes your shoulder reassuringly. “sweetie, i really don’t think he’d do that.”

“but you don’t know if he will or not!” you let out another scream into your pillow, tears prickling your eyes. “how could i be so- so- so stupid?!”

“you’re not being stupid. it’s normal to catch feelings and you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. atsumu probably feels the same way.”

you roll your eyes, “yeah, right. he thought i hated him for the longest time.”

“but you made up for it,” aneko responds without missing a beat. “you literally stayed with him almost the entire time he was healing. and now, he’s back on the court doing better than ever.”

“not to mention the fact that you guys literally hang out every single day. it’s getting kind of lonely here,” sakura teases, ruffling your hair. “look, if atsumu doesn’t like you back, that just shows how much of a dick he is and is just a red flag avoided. it’s a win-win situation. you literally cannot lose.”

“she has a point, y’know,” aneko chuckles, “no matter what happens, you’d be the winner.”

“i guess so… ugh, why does this all have to be so confusing?”

“how about you tell him how you feel during his next game,” aneko suggests, pulling out her phone. “see, look, it says that they have a game next week. why don’t you tell him then?”

you nod, jumping to your feet in determination. “i can do this.”

***

you cannot do this.

there you sit on the last day of june, coincidentally also the last game of the season, palms hot and sweaty as you ruminate on whatever you’re going to do after the game is over. atsumu is performing as well as ever – sets dangerously accurate, serves powerful and as strategic as usual – and you can’t help the way your eyes are trained on him. it’s almost as if you couldn’t avert your eyes no matter how much you wanted to. even still, your heart is pounding in your chest (not because you were invested in the game) and you had half the mind to leave the stadium. only, that wasn’t an option because atsumu already spotted you in the crowd. why did you let your dumb friends convince you to do this?

the whistle sounds, bringing your out of your thoughts and you glance at the score board. 25 - 19, in favour of the jackals. both teams were filtering out of the gym as well as the spectators in the stands and you follow suit, squeezing through the throngs of people. you toss between leaving and staying again as you navigate through the crowds – maybe you can run from your problems? – only to quite literally run into your problem. 

an ugly squawk escapes your lips and you cringe internally. ‘how romantic,’ you scoff to yourself sarcastically as you rub your forehead. 

“oof, sorry, princess, are you okay?” atsumu steadies you in an instant, pushing your hair back to survey the damage. “no bruises?”

you let out an airy laugh. “no harm done. congrats on your win.”

he grins, winking, “anything for you, princess.” he pauses, looking you up and down. “what are you doing here?”

“nothing!” you reply quickly, and you kick yourself internally for being awkward. “uh… nothing.”

he hums in amusement, “so you only came here for the fun of it?”

you wonder how your roommates would react if you came back to the flat still single. would it be worth leaving right now? you’re only delaying the inevitable, you hear aneko’s voice in your head and you cringe because you can imagine her saying it in that disappointed motherly voice she uses. you can imagine sakura nodding beside her, giving you a look that screamed you’re a right idiot.

“i wanted to talk to you,” you find yourself saying, wringing your hands in anxiety. “you should change first. and shower.”

he throws his head back and laughs. “yeah, i’ll see you in a bit.”

a bit passes by quicker than expected with sakusa kiyoomi leaving the changing room’s first and nodding at you in respect, followed by hinata and bokuto who grin wildly and pat you on the shoulder before meeting their respective rides (you recognise one to be kageyama tobio, the setter for another volleyball team but the other is equally as attractive with dark hair and glasses framing his blue eyes). the rest of the team emerges from the showers, chattering away and obviously pumped about their win. you hear someone – their captain? – yell about drinks to which the remaining people there agree heartily, but you feel an arm rest on your shoulder.

“sorry, guys, but i have plans with this lovely lady. maybe next time!” he grins, propping his sports bag securely on his shoulder before walking you out.

“i- wait, ‘tsumu, if you have plans-”

his smile widens at the nickname and his hand moves to rest at your waist. “i do have plans! with you!”

your cheeks burn at his words and you laugh in response. you glance at him from the corner of your eye and he seems to be at ease. his hand brushes against yours for a seconds and you swallow thickly – are you reading too much into things? a breath escapes your lips as the two of you walk around the city, the moon appearing from behind some clouds as you do. for someone who was just running around wildly on a court, atsumu was certainly energetic. 

“remember this place?” he asks, moving to stand between you and the road. 

you only just realise your surroundings and you chuckle once you see the all too familiar street you were currently standing on. “of course i do.”

he laughs, throwing his head back, and you think it’s one of the nicest sounds you’ve ever heard. 

the towering building that holds the renowned ise sueyoshi looms over the two of you, and you can’t help but feel nostalgic. the bright lights of the building shines through the windows and you can see the pale orange light against the inky blue sky. the kanji for the building is lit up in bright yellow, and you wouldn’t be surprised if the line was still long at this time of night. 

a short walk later and you’re back at aoyama bridge, the cherry blossoms blowing gently through the wind. a few other people are scattered around the bridge, mostly couples holding hands save for the odd jogger or two. the walk was short – less than ten minutes – and you’re grateful for the fresh air. you rest your arms against the rails of the bridge, enjoying the cool air against your skin. atsumu stands beside you, his back against the rails and his bag on the floor.

“i wanted to talk to you,” you say finally after long moments of silence. you glance at your watch: ten minutes to midnight. 

he quirks an eyebrow, turning his head to look at you fully. “what’s up?”

a breath leaves your lips as your wring your hands nervously over the railing. you look up at him with a small smile. “i like you.”

you expect him to laugh. to gloat in your face. to point and laugh and call you stupid. or maybe to run away with his tail between his legs. you expect him to stare at you in disgust and in annoyance, to roll his eyes and spit at your feet. you don’t, however, expect him to take a step towards you and cup your face with his warm calloused hands. you don’t, as much as you hoped, expect him to press his lips to yours, holding your gently as if you were porcelain. you don’t expect him to bring you closer to his chest, burying his head into your neck as he wraps his arms around your waist. but atsumu miya is full of surprises. 

“i like you, too.” he mumbles, and you shiver from the way his breath brushes over the skin on your neck. 

your heart is thundering in your chest and the blood rushes to your ears. “what?”

he laughs, bringing his head back up to look you in the eye. “i like you, too.”

one hand cups your cheek and the other pulls you in from your waist and he kisses you again. you pull away for air, cheeks warm and head spinning. 

“yeah?”

another laugh. “of course i do, princess.” then he grins, “be my girlfriend? ya can’t say no.”

confusion enters your mind before it dawns on you. you glance at your watch – 11:59 pm. you gape at him, mouth opening and closing as you struggle to find something to say.

“i guess we both lose,” you say finally, rolling your eyes after you calm down. 

he chuckles, taking your hand. “i’d say we’re both winners.”

you smile at his words. “couldn’t stand my charm, could you, miya?”

“as if!” he yells, snorting. “you fell for my charms, too!”

you stick your tongue out and swing your arms. “whatever you say, sweet cheeks.”

he kisses your cheek. “i do say, princess.”

you hum, breathing in the cool night air as you walk. “what do you think, ‘tsumu? waste of a lovely night?”

“absolutely not, princess.”

quick trivia:

ise sueyoshi: a real restaurant found in tokyo, japan. a high end restaurant that specialises in traditional japanese food.

aoyama bridge: a real bridge in tokyo, japan. approximate 9 minute walk from ise sueyoshi and is actually a tourist destination.

reblogs are always appreciated!

[forthechubbies]

Roadkill°{Rated X} Drabble ->Series

Criminal!Woosan x Victim!Chubby Reader

W! MOMMY KINK!, MILF! Reader,Strong Language, Sexual themed , mentions of prostitution, Alcohol, and pissed off San yummy 😋...Wooyoung is a mean drunk by the way.

"I said take a left, dumbass!!!"

It is often mentioned that nobody can bear the burden of a guilty conscience. However, have you ever considered what happens when someone or a group of people shamelessly disregard feelings of regret, remorse, and the basic principles of humanity?

Instead, they prioritize their own selfish desires for greed, wealth, and personal gratification, even if it means hurting others.

"ITS HARD TO FUCKIN HEAR OVER THESE SIRENS"

The individuals are the Korean bonnie & clyde; Jung Woo-young; the man driving the getaway van and Choi San the man poorly reading directions. Not much is known about these menances besides them being nothing but a handful of trouble.

Cutting through a rural region facilitated the pair's escape. The guys puffed, drawing in as much breath as possible before bursting into nervous laughter between the duo.

“Oh, sh*t, that was close. Lucky us, huh?" remarked Wooyoung.

San sat in despair and rolled his eyes, saying, "Drive the fucking car.." He had had enough of his beloved for the day.

.....

The stillness between the lovers was uncomfortable following today's somewhat botched theft. San was the one who broke the stillness. "I'll be back," he said casually over his shoulder as he crossed over the motel entrance. Wooyoung huffed, hot on San's trail. "Where are you going?" he inquired, without shoes in the crisp autumn air.

"For a walk." San said, plainly

Instead of confronting San's emotions based on his actions, Wooyoung answered, "Okay." Wooyoung steps furiously into the van before speeding away into the night..l

San didn't bother giving him a moment's glimpse.

What the hell is this place?! Wooyoung was driving through this dump of a town, venting his frustration. He was cruising down the deserted streets when he stumbled upon a crappy gas station. "Just in time," he muttered to himself as he pulled up to the pump. But of course, the tank was empty. "Fuck!" Wooyoung screamed as he punched the steering wheel in anger.

....

In the depths of despair, San painfully acknowledged the vast gap of time without his foolish lover. Anxiety consumed him as futile calls left him restless. Where could that ass be?

By the roadside, the van sat motionless, as if devoid of any purpose. Within its confines, a wooyoung, heavily intoxicated, slumped over carelessly, encircled by a sea of discarded beer bottles. His supposedly peaceful slumber was abruptly shattered by the obnoxious blaring of his cell phone...again

Wooyoung bellowed furiously through the speaker. "Ugh, What..what- Ah! Shit!.... Quit goddamn yelling in my fucking ear!.. ... How the fuck am I supposed to know where the hell I am?! I just woke the fuck up!.....wah! I'm not some damn drunk-asshole! You've been a colossal asswipe all day.. I fucking saved your sorry ass and all you gave a shit about is the dead bitch on the pavement...... He. would have..fucking killed you!... You dumbass."

San's mind was filled with a disturbing idea - were they heartless murderers or courageous outlaws? The reality was horrifying. They were criminals, but taking a life was an entirely new level of wickedness. However, San couldn't ignore the fact that they were not entirely innocent either. The truth was staggering and left San in a state of shock.

During their incarceration, whispers circulated about his involvement in sinister dealings that involved the disappearance of both guards and fellow inmates. But he was not acting alone, driven by a primal instinct to survive.

However, Wooyoung was a different breed altogether. His thirst for blood was almost demonic, a rush of adrenaline that coursed through his veins like a sweet poison.

He reveled in it, relishing the taste of fear and the power it gave him. It was as if he had made a deal with the devil himself, and now he was paying the price in flesh and bone.

San's point was clear: Wooyoung possessed the power to decide the fate of that man, whether to merciless slaughter him or spare his wretched existence.

The man, feeble and defenseless, posed no immediate danger. Yet, in a twisted display of sadistic pleasure, Wooyoung coldly pressed the barrel of his gun against the man's vulnerable skull, relishing in the anticipation of the impending explosion. And then, with a resounding bang, the man's life was abruptly extinguished, his blood mingling with the already crimson-stained surroundings.

In a state of intoxication, Wooyoung seized control of the wheel.

Tragically, lost in his drunken haze, he dared to shut his eyes for what seemed like a mere moment. Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream pierced through the air, jolting him awake... Shit. He hastily pulled over, compelled to investigate, only to be confronted with a shocking sight - a lifeless woman sprawled before him.

He gnashed his teeth, the very last thing he wanted was the hassle of concealing a dead body. Wooyoung's gaze crept up your limbs until it met your face...Shit, she's bleeding a bit but she'll live...I must have scared her out of her wits and she passed out. The longer Wooyoung stared, the more he discerned your profession.

At first, The school girl uniform puzzled him but there's no way in hell, Parents would allow their daughter out the door the way your dressed.

He audaciously dropped to his knees in the grass beside your form, your name tag proudly displaying "Yn" with a heart-shaped flourish. "Bunny Lounge..." he uttered, his voice dripping with disdain. "You're nothing but a filthy prostitute." A humorless chuckle escaped his lips as he continued, "My dear, you are far too beautiful to be a whor-"

His intentions abruptly shifted towards your forsaken purse, mere inches away from your body. A wicked smirk danced upon his lips as he scoffed, relishing in the sinister thrill of his impending actions.

"Just hold on a minute, Sweetheart," He sneered.

With a savage force, Wooyoung tore through the contents of your purse, his hands ravaging through the remnants of your personal belongings. And then, amidst the chaos, he stumbled upon a collection of cherished family photographs, capturing the essence of your existence alongside your innocent baby twin sons.

The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning, electrifying his twisted mind. "You... you're a mother..."

A wave of sorrow washed over him as memories from his troubled childhood resurfaced. He was raised by a single mother who tirelessly struggled to provide for him, doing whatever it took to ensure there was food on the table.

He sensually pressed his ear against your heaving bosom, captivated by the rhythmic melody of your steady heartbeat... Wooyoung wasn't the cuddlyist person in the world but he found instant relief being against your skin.

San was teetering on the edge of madness, his mind consumed by fury, when his spouse burst through the door, guzzling down yet another bottle of the delectable soju. "Daddy's finally graced us with his presence," San sneered.

Woo-young's freakin' good-looking mug was all shiny, like he'd been doused in oil or somethin'. "Sannie-ah!"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" San exploded, launching himself at Wooyoung and forcefully slamming him against the door. "It's fucking 3am. Where the hell were you?"

"I... I killed an angel," Wooyoung whispered, a sinister giggle escaping his lips as he leaned in close to San's ear. "She's so soft n' sweet...like you." His tongue grazed San's stud earrings. "So I had to keep her-..I had no choice.."

San brushed off Wooyoung's words, tossing him aside like a rag doll as he stormed out of the motel room. But as he took a few steps away, doubt began to creep into his mind. Could it be possible that his drunken lover was actually telling the truth?

As he crept towards the van's rear, his heart pounded with fear. San's hands trembled as he reached for the cold metal handles of the doors. With a deep breath, he pulled them open, and his breath caught in his throat. In the center of the mattress lay a woman.No angel. your dirty body was bound and gagged, your blouse ripped open to reveal a lacy bra. The sight was enough to make San's blood run cold. He knew he had stumbled upon something truly terrifying.

San held his breath slamming the doors shut before rushing to confront the murderer. Wooyoung flinched at the sound of the door. " You look pissed." He chuckled. "Did you see my piece of heaven? Beautiful. Right?!"

Meanwhile, in the cold. As you slowly regained awareness, your foot landed on a glass bottle, knocking it against others. Bringing you up to speed on the issue.

Your heart races as you feel the panic set in. The pressure is crushing you, and you can't even sit up because of the damn rope tying you down. You look around frantically, trying to make sense of your surroundings. Are you outside? In a shed? No, it's a van. Your mind races as you try to figure out how to escape this nightmare.

"You're nothing but a filthy prostitute." A man's voice was the last thing you heard before you fully lost consciousness.

As your captors' voices grew louder, the chilling realization hit you like a ton of bricks - would you ever lay eyes on your beloved boys again? Tears threatened to spill, but you had no time for weakness.

Upon opening the doors, The men found you conscious and confused you stared at them as if their aliens. "Oh shit, She's alive." Wooyoung slurred, "See, Sannie, you hit me for nothing." He happily crawled into the van climbing up your body as you struggled. "Easy, mommy, you don't want to hurt your-"

San aggressively punished his lover upside the head. "Ya! The fuck is wrong with you?! This isn't us." He snatched his lover against the wall of the van with a Slam.

Wooyoung groaned, enjoying the feeling of being manhandled. " We're criminals, Dickhead, bad stuff is what we done." He couldn't take his eyes off your exposed legs. "We should reap the benefits. Don't you think, Sannie?"

San snatched Wooyoung's jaw forcing him to look at him. "There's a fine line between Criminals and monsters and that " He uses his head to movement towards your shaken figure. "Is going overboard!"

San had clearly had enough for the night, but Wooyoung wasn't going to let him get away with it. In a drunken rage, he snapped back, defending himself with all the aggression he could muster.

"Sleep in the damn van!" San barked at Wooyoung, not bothering to look back. "Fucking animal " He hoisted himself onto the bed, forcefully wrapping the rope that restrained your wrists around his neck, and effortlessly lifted you up.

As you observed the furious Wooyoung venting his frustration on the van, you instinctively leaned closer to San, finding some solace in his comforting presence.

..to be continued ♡

[s2buns]

⇀ CUM DUMP ! ✰

a short drabble.

contains: unsafe sex, breeding, overstimulation, crying, dirty talk, fem!reader, chubby!reader, mentions of stomach bulge.

warning ! minor writing smut, skip if uncomfortable.

He's been at it for hours now, overstimulating you and cumming into you so much each of his thrusts causes his cum to glob out onto his cock and fall down onto the sheets of the bed below your moving bodies.

He was merciless, flipping you into every position imaginable, fucking you for a few rounds in one of them before switching to the other.

Your tears stained your pillow, a cry leaving your lips as his cock bullies its way into your pussy with such ease and strength.

It was an omen, whenever Geto was frustrated or was purely pent up for some unknown reason you become his loyal sex doll, tears leaving your eyes from the pleasure, it was almost painful.

"Shit, shit! 'M gonna cum inside this pussy again," he groans, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he shoves himself in as deep as he could, cock twitching and body shaking as he leaned over you, his cum joining the rest pooling inside of you.

Your stomach was bulging, filled with his cum and cock and you would always whine whenever he pressed his hand against it, whispering those dirty words into your ear.

Of course you were overstimulated but he was too but its not like he cared about how good it felt to have his cock fuck you raw, its not like he cared how painfully good it felt when his swollen and red tip kept fucking into you because it was addicting.

He'd always want to spread open your thighs and breed you so much that whenever he pulls his cock out the cum he stored in there has no choice but to pour out, because the sight, that sight was beautiful.

He knew you loved it, loved how he couldn't get enough of you and just had to keep fucking your poor overstimulated pussy.

And you did love it, no matter how exhausted you were for the next day or two.

[mintymarabell]

Part 2 can be found here.

Imagine this. Imagine this with your yandere elder yautja.

Just a very very messy drabble

Maybe he’s asleep and you’ve gained his trust to be relieved of a shackle.

Maybe one night he’s asleep in your arms, his own wrapped around your waist as he sleeps with his head on your stomach and his body between your thighs. He sleeps peacefully. Content with your love.

Well fake love. You never really loved him did you? Never loved when he would braid your hair for you, or when you broke your wrist and had to have surgery to get the bone realigned and he sat by your bed side softly crying because he hated to see you bandaged up and hurt. He even went as far as sleeping on the floor next to your shared bed because he didn’t want to accidentally roll over onto your hurt wrist.

Even when he bought out a medicine company to help you sleep through the planets sometimes loud lifestyle.

Never loved him even when he trusted you enough to bandage up his large gashes from a fight or hunt knowing fully well you could’ve dug your fingers into the flesh and hurt him way worse.

Never loved him when he would spend hours on his knees between your thighs worshipping your very being, and putting down any insecurities you might have had.

No.

No you never loved him. Not one bit hm?

That’s why one night before you serve him his food you dump at least 5 bottles of the sleeping medicine powder into his food. And as you lay it on the table for him he’ll thank you and tell you how greatful he is to have you here even giving you a gentle hug that he gets down on his knees to give. He’ll eat the food, complimenting the taste and once again giving out his gratitude. As he finishes up he waits at the table for you to finish yours, he’ll give you this loving look as you finish up.

The medicine might hit him as you wash the dishes, he’ll lightly set the towel he was using to dry dishes down. Taking a deep breath he’ll finish up drying the rest of the dishes off, he’ll meet you in the bathroom as you undress for a shower. He doesn’t need to shower he just wants to be near you, so he’ll sit on the toilet lid with his head in his hands as he waits for you. He might even doze off as he waits. Just shake his shoulder and he’ll jump up thinking something is wrong, only to see your already done and dressed.

He’ll sluggishly follow you to the bedroom where he gets rid of all his clothes save for his loin cloth. He’ll crawl in bed and lay there waiting as when you finally get in he’ll situate himself on top of you, nearly knocking the breath out of you with his 600 pound self.

From there he’s knocked out he sleeps peacefully with his head on your shoulder, his breath fanning on your neck as his large hands clutched your shirt as if he were a baby holding on to its mother.

You clearly didn’t love him. Isn’t it obvious? Why else would you drug your 8ft 600 something pound kidnapper. It’s to get away.

It’ll be a struggle to get out from underneath him, it’ll take a few hours of just shimmying back and fourth. When you do get out he’ll be halfway off the bed, now run.

Run like you mean it. Run to the front door, put the code in. Wrong. You got it wrong. Try again? Wrong again. Had he changed it? Yes he had.

Make it seem like a break in? There’s no way to doing it seeing as the glass will be on the outside. Such a bummer.

You freeze, the sounds of sniffling could be heard. You turned around slowly. Oh. It’s his dog outside. The same dog that almost killed you your first day there.

Your eyes dart to the laser pointer. Good thinking.

Take it and point the laser inside, the dog will crash through the window to chase it. A perfect escape but wait? There’s shuffling upstairs?

Run.

Is all your instincts tell you as you turn the red beam on to shine on the nearest surface. The dog runs through the window chasing after the beam. More shuffling. Quickly crouch down to crawl through the glass hole. Your arm snagged on the glass, a large gash presented itself in your forearm. That’s great. You thought as you stepped out. Ouch, broken glass in the feet. You sit on the porch to quickly pull the glass out, with your hurried pace some pieces go inside your foot but who cares. You don’t. So you stand up and run toward the big fence that lined your beautiful prison.

As you jump your hand grabs onto the fence, grab onto the spiky parts at the top? Yeah do that. Just as you get on the other side you let go to fall the rest of the way down, your feet ached in pain as the glass imbedded itself deep. There’s no time for that. Run. Run off into the nearest forest. And that’s what you do, you run into the forest with nothing but a shirt and some random leggings. The material is snagged on the sharp forest limbs. That’s no good.

•••••

As your mate awakens, he feels hung over. The coldness in the bed is what startled him as he shoots up to look for you. No where. Panic is introduced to his nervous system as he jumps out of bed and runs around the house calling for you. He stops as he sees the shattered window, his dog still outside. Oh no. He thought as he noticed your blood on the glass. A kidnapping? His green blood ran cold as he jerked some armor on and ran out to look for you. Where could you have gone?

[naboman]

Ma Chérie Synopsis: There's something about the memories I ramble that makes my heart ache. Ma chérie, are you missing me? pairing: Chrollo Lucilfer + Fem!Reader. Genres: Angst, memories of the past, drabbles.

There is some beauty in the act of "losing what is essentially important", something tragic, worthy of being portrayed on a movie screen and transposed into soft, nostalgic melodies, films he would watch and music he would allow himself to enjoy. Although Chrollo found it a captivating subject, he never liked to imagine losing what was important to him. He had never had anything, his life had never had any purpose or meaning to adhere to. Always so much less than the others, always an inconvenience, that is, until the Troupe was formed. So why would he want to lose the only things that make him who he is?

Well, he lost someone important, someone whose existential value could never be measured in words. Someone who was… Everything.

Sweet memories are the only thing he has left, memories of a sugary tone, accompanied by a bad scenario and inhuman situations, but he had her. So none of that mattered.

No matter how many times he faced death, whether from hunger or illness after so long inhaling the infectious air of the dump, he knew that he would never receive a "goodbye", but a warm squeeze of the hands.

Her hands were not soft, on the contrary, they were calloused and rough, like sandpaper, her touch was rough, but he would never refuse, because it was affectionate. Affection he would never deny, not hers. This led him to wonder at the time, if he hadn't been in such a despicable situation, what would the real texture of her hands have been? Oh Lord, he would give the world to her if he could.

He regrets questioning it so much, regrets being so ungrateful, because soon, the thing that once stroked his face and rubbed his fingers with affection, the warmth of a sincere caress, was gone. As quickly as it came. The precious priceless thing talked about in movies and songs had been forcibly taken from him.

It was unfair. And to Chrollo's displeasure, there was no one to blame. He knew that she was sick and fragile, he knew the risks of exposing her to danger, to the petty crimes she committed for the sake of survival, he knew that he had something to lose if he decided to risk her health in order to have something to eat for one more day. He was already familiar with contempt, but the pain of loss was as acute as the pain of hunger. Even if he had eaten an entire can of canned peaches, the sharp pain that vibrated in his core would not go away.

He was cold, so cold that his bones ached. And unfortunately, she wasn't there to rub his cold hands.

In the cold early hours, he found himself filtering the information, digesting the facts and staring at them. He'd seen people die before, he'd seen the worst of humanity in such a short space of time that it didn't even make him frown, because disgust had already seeped into his daily life. He just wanted to know why it didn't let him rest when he lay on the moldy mattresses.

It was driving him crazy, and he must have been 14? Or 15? Going mad at 15 wasn't the best strategy someone like him could have.

Like Prometheus, Chrollo was having his wounds reopened on a daily basis, from the moment he went to sleep until the hour of sun began to show its first signs in the Meteor City.

So, in order to obscure these memories, for the sake of his newly formed troupe of thieves, he decided to infuse them into the back of his mind, for as long as it took, until the memories became nothing more than a small fragment, of something that Chrollo Lucilfer believes to be nothing more than a bad dream.

An unreal delusion.

The night in York seemed turbulent, hectic and with a touch of danger in the air, not the frightening kind, but the kind that gets your blood pumping, makes a delicious adrenaline rush through your veins, as if even the most ordinary of girls could experience a mind-blowing adventure. But Chrollo's blood wasn't pumping wildly, and he certainly wasn't a girl looking for an exciting, euphoric adventure. He was quite sober, in fact.

Chrollo put his hands in the pockets of his coat, it was a bit different from the long coat he wore, this one was brown and rather ordinary, but still a good coat. He stabilized his posture, there was something in his thoughts that trapped him in the subconscious of ideas, a trance of nostalgia, something he didn't like, but found difficult to disengage from at this point.

He should just stick to the original plan and rent a small cubicle to hide out in with the rest of the troupe, he thought as he eyed the hotel's battered sign, a clear blur between the words in large cursive letters, the coloring was faded and yellowish, but if he had to guess, he would guess that it was something like 'Hotel of Sleeping Beauties!' with several exclamations in a row.

He entered the hotel without any expectations, he didn't need to be smart to understand that the outside was just a glimpse of the inside. His pre-judgments weren't wrong, it wasn't a good dump, but it would do for now. The corners of the walls were moldy and the air was rather damp, and he could feel it when the dust unceremoniously entered his nostrils.

A receptionist, maybe 22 years old at the most, stood on the other side of the counter, he had a bunch of cigarette butts in an ashtray, and one more between his lips, the slow passage to death on the lips of a young man, who stared at him with nothing but boredom. The kind of employee who doesn't receive commissions and neglects his clientele. But to be fair, Chrollo had to admit that his uniform was rather pompous for such a shabby place; red with silver details on his hat.

"[Name], we have a gentleman waiting at reception to be attended to… I suggest you hasten your steps," he said rather loudly into the intercom, almost like a threat, followed by an exhausted sigh.

Chrollo approached the counter with an unreadable expression, and could tell that neither of them would make any further moves unless necessary.

"I'm sorry for the delay, Eddy"

Chrollo raised his eyes to look at the newcomer and, for a moment, he thought he had gone back in time.

His face, his voice, his rigid mannerisms. The perfectly sculpted creature, identical even down to the smallest details of his face. It was perfect. So perfectly the same that it was frightening. Just like the sight of a zombie preserved only to haunt he.

"We still have a few rooms available, sir, I think you'll want to take a look." She sounded professional, neutral and infused, as if Chrollo were just another face among the many she must have seen that evening. Just someone else to serve. A stranger.

Her tone was unapproachable; on the contrary, it was distant, disguised by a cordial kindness.

"Sir?" The woman in question approached with her eyes flashing in curiosity, an essential customer care.

"Forgive me, I'm getting distracted," Chrollo approached, making her step back.

She was so close, so close that he feared he would be blown away with the dust if he tried to touch her.

"It's okay, don't worry," [Name] nodded in agreement, as resigned as a doll kept in the darkest corner of the closet, but still smiling with disdain. That smile that didn't reach her eyes to express anything, only carved to be etched into her flesh and her manners. His gracious appreciation was a sham. "Shall we go ahead? I'll show you the way."

"I appreciate that" Chrollo just nodded, unable to formulate a flattering response, following her as she took the bunch of keys out of one of her pockets.

You should be dead.

You should be dead…

That's what was going through his mind as he stared into her doll-like eyes.

Inspiration from the tale Ma chérie . Thank you for read <3

[whumpsoda]

MAY I SUGGEST

an early captivity drabble where Malak tries to comprehend something in front of him and finds that he can’t, like it’s just beyond him. I’d imagine this would be his last day of resistance, and there’s a cold feeling in his stomach as he dimly realizes there’s no going back.

but Adrastus’ hand is in his hair, they’re telling him how good he’s being and how desired and loved he is as the two of them watch Malak’s resistance fizzle out like a sparkler reaching the end of its stick.

ANYWAYS IUST UH. ADRASTUS CONGRATULATING MALAK ON BEING THEIR TOUGHEST THRALL TO BREAKalso literally no pressure on timing i just wanted to share

WOHEO Masterlist

Definitely not my best but I’ll post it anyways

cw: conditioning/brainwashing, pet whump

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A puzzle. 

It was only a puzzle. A puzzle. Twenty pieces at the most. So easy a small child could figure it out. Malak was an adult. At least, he was pretty sure he was. No one really treated him like one.

So why couldn’t he?

So stupidly he’d pointed to the box earlier, interested by the colorful image of a horse on the cover. His master had been wary of handing it over, knowing full well of his pitiful state. Unfortunately, he’d insisted.

Malak had barely even touched it, only having lazily dumped out the pieces in front of his lap. His glassy, unfocused gaze trailed repeatedly over each piece and edge, the visual mirrored on the box scattered over the broken up image. Nervously, he gnawed at his lower lip.

It didn’t… make sense. Any sense. Though, he vaguely knew it was supposed to. Puzzles could be perfectly reconnected to a bigger picture, yet, even with just his vision, everything seemed so illogical and confusing. Jumbled so far in his cotton filled head he could barely even begin the activity.

As far as Malak could manage to remember, a feat eerily difficult as his brain was held far in a mind numbing trance, he was fairly aware he used to enjoy puzzles. Before his master, before his strange predicament. Before he was a pet.

And yet, all he could do was stare. Stare, with empty eyes and a dumbfounded head. 

Stumped. Him. Stumped over a twenty piece puzzle. It was seemingly utterly beyond him and his picked apart brain, melted to goop.

He softly cringed, disgusted with himself. Ripe anger twisted in his belly, burning with confusing emotions. He didn’t like such a sensation. 

Master didn’t like such sensations.

Unsurprisingly, the master in question was already keenly aware of his distress.

“See, dear? I told you it would be just simply impossible for you to complete such a difficult task.” Adrastus tisked. But it wasn’t difficult! Deep in his faulty brain he knew so. He’d easily and swiftly completed so many in the past, all of them far more formidable. “Your cute little head is just incapable, love, and that’s just why I advised against it. I just knew you’d get all fussy.”

Letting their words simmer in his mind for a beat, soon he gradually looked back to his mess of squares. Still, they hadn’t changed. Still nonsensical. Sprawled out in lazy fashion, broken apart instead of put together like they had once been.

Just like him.

The red hot bubbling in his stomach shifted to a dimly lit chill.

That was him now. Never to be fixed, never to be put back together. Stupid till the day he dies, stuck under the will of another. Malak would never again fit together. Reduced to nothing more than brainless, muddled matter that didn’t connect. 

Oddly, the horrifying realization melted into that of sickly sweet pleasure over the tiniest mention of his master. Malak liked being owned by them. He loved his master, and he loved being cute and obedient for them. It made him happy. 

Content.

He giggled first, light and airy that bounced around the tight tense of his belly, till it contorted to a whine, strangled and squealy, like a child about to throw a tantrum. How fitting. 

All was bad. Bad bad bad. It wasn’t supposed to be bad, he wasn’t supposed to be bad, and Malak despised the thought of annoying his master with his bad feelings, ones he knew he wasn’t supposed to have. Ones they didn’t like him to have. And, just as they said, he had done it to himself. He caused it. 

If he had just let himself he could have remained dumb and giddy as he was meant to, floating through the blissful daze he was meant to be in. And even if for only a moment, he’d ruined it.

You ruin everything, Malak.

“You- y- you- you ruin everything mmngh… Malak.” He sniveled, whimpering the first clear string of words he had somehow managed in a good while. How many times had he heard the same sentence? How many people had brought to light the painful reality such as that?

Before he could reach the point of crying- something he’d done especially often since his master had claimed him- gentle fingers slipped right over his temples, swiftly subduing him.

One hand was in his hair, twisting through curls and faintly skimming their nails over his scalp, while the other rubbed warmth over his plush skin. His head lolled back along with their motions, resting against the cushion of the couch. 

The scritched behind his ear, hitting the spot. “Oh, baby, how could you say that… Master loves you so much. I don’t believe I’ve ever loved something as much as you. Don’t ever think or say such dreadful things.” The cooed, continuing their hypnotic escapade over his mind and through his hair.

They paused.

“Malak.” Their voice turned low and heavy, holding the greatest weight he’d ever felt on his ears, echoing across the walls of his empty head. “You love me. I love you. I… we’re meant to be together, Malak. You need me. I’m all you have, and all that can ever truly love you. Care for you. Who can bring you everything you need.”

“You see that… don’t you?”

Carefully, he digested every syllable.

Malak didn’t need the stupid puzzle. He didn’t need anything- surely not the bad things, things that stirred up strangeness and discomfort. The thought of merely looking at the discarded object hurt in his head.

He needed-

He needed…

He needed them.

He needed his master.

For a moment Malak let it all wash over him, breathing in the rich and sweet wave of realization of what had come and what was yet to.

Malak was at the end of his rope. He was waiting at the edge, like the fizzle of a sparkler finally burning out.

Something.

Popped.

He giggled. Again, again, again, until it seemed uncontrollable.

The delightful, welcomed wave of happy, heavenly hypnotic force took hold of his body, snaking it’s way from his toes to his brain, seeping into every crack and crevice imaginable. He swooned with a mixture of wooziness and unfiltered bliss, swaying along with the weight of such power. Malak was so joyous, so much so that a big, toothy smile spread across his lips and pushed his pudgy cheeks, making him squint.

They loved him! They loved him, they loved him, they loved him, even if he was helpless and dumb, they loved him! They’d give him all the love and gifts and praises and treats and affection no one else ever would, and he would gladly take it. Malak was filled to the brim with so much gladness he wished he could get up and dance.

He continued smiling, beaming, with teeth and gums shining to his master right under his glassy, void gaze and drooping eyelids. Malak was happy. Finally, happy, all of his meaningless cares washed down the drain of his mind.

He eagerly kicked away the pieces of the puzzle till they skittered off, knees bumping against wood as he dizzily kneeled, and he had the ability to forget they were ever there.

His master’s aura strengthened at the sight, calling him closer as they rubbed his body in mollifying, circular motions. “Well, aren’t you just silly. I bet your little imaginary tail must be wagging. Good boy.” They sang, soft and sweet, holding him by the chin. Nice, but even better than normal.

He was such a good boy and he knew it. He knew it! His master was the only one who could and would ever truly realize it. Malak was a good boy. Finally he had accepted his fate, the one filled with care and true love. He’d accepted it, and allowed himself to give in.

He slightly moaned with dripping bliss. “Hap… happyyyy… happyyyy..!” It was then Adrastus’ turn to chuckle, playing with his cheeks like putty in their hands. He fully allowed them, leaning into the calling touch. Craving it, yearning for more.

“Lovely.” They whispered, more so to themself than him. “Just lovely. So hard to break,

but I think the wait was worth it.”

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Taglist- @softvampirewhump @iys-cloud @battyfantasy @xx-adam-xx @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @mylifeisonthebookshelf

If anyone wants to be removed or added to the taglist, please let me know! :)

[whatthebodygraspsnot]

totally random and don't know if you've been asked this before, i've read your fics and drabbles, i absolutely love your voice in them, considering how you write Ian and Mickey so well, i'd give a penny for your thoughts about Mickey's lil bridezilla notebook. do you think it's full of collage pages? mostly text? magazine scraps? does he color code shit? ugh i love him sm 😩

oh my god i forgot the most important thing!!!!!!! did he ever let Ian have a complete sneak peek through it? cause i think he probably skimmed through it with Ian while the planning was on board, but Mickey probably stored it somewhere safe as a keepsake after the wedding....what if one day Ian just happens to find it and looks through it fondly and Mickey catches him on the act, oops, they have a talk about it, idk, Mickey having a lil notebook just does something to my fragile heart 🤧🤧

hello 😌 thank you for asking - i do actually have some thoughts on this, in the way that i think mickey's wedding notebook goes through several stages.

i think at its creation, it's more of a dump-book. mickey's at his stream-of-consciousness, hunting-and-gathering phase. there's no organization - no rhyme or reason - mickey is stressed and overwhelmed and he's just gluing shit right into that motherfucker, filling the pages as quickly as he can turn them. he doesn't really have a Vision yet - he just knows he's gotta prepare for it, especially since ian doesn't seem too interested in making decisions.

come to jesus moment. mickey slaps down a stack of pictures he's cut out and goes to start adding them, only to realize he has no blank pages left. he's filled the whole thing. that can't be right, can it? it's a big notebook, and the stuff he just cut out for it is real good shit so he's gotta make room. gotta start from page one. gotta thumb through it and pull a 'wtf' face because he doesn't even like some of this shit? why'd he put it in here? tulips??? who did that! okay, time to pump the fucking brakes.

paring down. re-evaluation. ian walks into the living room one night and mickey's cross-legged in the middle of a sea of ripped papers. like some sort of hamster. ian thinks perhaps divorce is on the table, only to come closer and realize mickey's cutting shit out and pasting it into a new notebook, the glue stick caught between his teeth like a cigar (Alternate Title: Ian's Come To Jesus Moment.)

notebook 2.0 is born. there's significantly less...everything. the Vision is starting to come together. debbie gives him these little color tab bitches that he can stick between the pages so he knows where to put things. Music. Food. Flowers. etc. mickey sits down with ian again and flips through it, getting his thoughts on different things. out comes the big red marker - circling - crossing out - starring. he can see ian trying to sneak closer looks across the table, but mickey's grown very attached. it's his hopes and dreams in here, motherfucker! ian can look at it later. after he finds the chiavaris.

That Bitch. this baby is in her final form. mickey knows what he wants and knows he's got the power to haggle, secure, or steal it all when he's got his notebook tucked under his arm. she's also good and solid when he smacks lip over the head with her after he makes a passing comment about being a groomzilla. she is everything.

when he does finally see his notebook again after many years, it's because ian is thumbing through it, this teary, fond look in his eyes as he sits in a sea of boxes. mickey doesn't know if he should be embarrassed or proud or what. a lot of their wedding day ended up shifting on its axis for a ton of fucked up reasons, so as gorgeous as she is, a lot of her didn't actually get to see the light of day.

but ian is innnn lovvvve (aaaaat laaaaast my looove has come alonnnggg). so much so that for their ten year anniversary, mickey walks into their little get-together and immediately recognizes a ton of the details. like they've jumped out of the pages of his notebook and into reality ten years later. ian is a sneaky fucker! and mickey has excellent taste.

and he's just really glad that he cut out that disgusting tulip arrangement in his first notebook purge.