#the food i can eat is already so goddamn restricted

[dont-offend-the-bees]

Right that's it. Dropping everything else this week to spend some time learning how to cook things I can actually stomach.

[xshinormx]

.

[suzukiblu]

More of the wet nurse omegaverse for @qwertynerd97. 

“Is there anything you’d especially like to eat, then? Snacks or drinks or anything else we can keep on hand for you?” Clark tries, obviously still trying to make nice with Carl, who still looks both uncomfortable with and confused by the attention. Which is an odd reaction from the kid, Bruce thinks, but maybe he’s embarrassed to engage too much with an omega who so obviously has so much more experience with pups than he does, considering that even though Clark’s got a good fifteen or twenty years on him, he’s still the one who’s an actual childcare worker. 

Or maybe he lost a litter very, very recently, and is just having trouble being around an omega mother. 

. . . well. Another omega mother, in that case. 

“Uh, no,” Carl says. “I can get my own food, it’s fine.” 

“Well, there’s not a convenient local grocery store, to be honest,” Bruce says, because that’s a bit of a concern there. “Alfred only makes the trip once a week and just shops all at once. And it’s our responsibility to feed you, you’re staying in my pack’s den, after all.” 

“So?” Carl says, looking puzzled. “I can still do it.” 

“There’s not exactly a corner store in the neighborhood, is what I mean,” Bruce clarifies. “The walk to the nearest grocery store is a good two hours from here, being optimistic. And then you’d be spending another two hours walking back with the bags.” 

“. . . uh,” Carl says. “And that’s . . . a long walk?” 

“With groceries?” Bruce raises an eyebrow at him. This kid definitely spends too much time in the gym. “Yes.” 

“Oh,” Carl says, his expression turning a little awkward. “Um . . . could I maybe hitch a ride with Alfred when he goes, then?” 

Bruce can think of almost nothing Alfred would hate more than being forced to grocery shop with someone else, but if they have to ease Carl into letting them feed him, so be it. Maybe he does have dietary restrictions or allergies and just doesn’t want to explain them, but considering he’s going to need to be eating a lot of extra calories to make anywhere near enough milk for Lor . . . yes, they’re definitely going to need to either buy him groceries outright or at least give him some kind of a budget for them. An expense account. A fucking credit card; Bruce doesn’t even care, at this point, as long as he doesn’t have to watch Clark watch his pup starve to death. 

“Sure,” he says, already planning to order the kid a credit card for grocery-related expenses, even if just as a temporary thing. Again, he doesn’t have to watch Clark watch his pup starve to death. This kid can feed himself however he wants, as long as it helps Lor. He can exist on goddamn organic truffles and saffron and caviar, as far as Bruce is concerned.

Alfred and Travers come back with exactly one backpack between them, Alfred looking mildly pained about it, and Jon and Damian come back with a ridiculously high stack of linens, Damian looking incredibly pained about that. Bruce is in genuine disbelief that neither of them have dropped any of them, then makes a mental note to go check the hall and make sure there isn’t a trail of pillows and bedsheets leading back to the servants’ quarters. 

“Thank you, boys, but you could’ve just left those in the hall,” he says. Admittedly Carl doesn’t have an assigned room yet, but . . . 

“Uh, we just wanted to bring them!” Jon says, his face turning pink in embarrassment. 

Alright. So yes, he was deliberately bringing Carl nesting materials. Or–well, maybe not intentionally deliberately bringing Carl nesting materials, but all the same. 

Well, Jon is a beta, and it’s perfectly normal for beta pups to bring nesting material to omegas, presented or not, including ones they’ve nursed from. Especially nesting material they’ve scented, which Jon very definitely has. To the degree he probably rolled around in it, in fact, which would explain why none of it’s folded as neatly as Alfred would’ve. 

But yes. It’s perfectly normal for a beta to do that, even as a pup. 

Just it’s usually something done for packmates, not childcare workers they’ve just met.

“Thank you, Jon,” Clark says, looking just barely pained for just a flash and visibly forcing himself to smile. Visibly by Bruce’s standards, anyway. 

“It’s good?” Jon asks, not quite glancing at Carl as he asks. “We could go get more.” 

If there’s that much more to get in that specific linen closet, Bruce will be surprised, which is saying something in the manor. Carl could make a fortress of a nest out of all that, though. 

“Yeah, sure, that’ll keep me for a while,” Carl says, which is definitely not a response to the standard of pack manners, but he says it while looking besotted again, and Jon still beams in delight. Carl shifts Lor to his hip and grabs his bag from a visibly pained Travers to sling over his arm, and then does another odd little juggling maneuver and somehow manages to get all of the linens off both Jon and Damian and all precariously-stacked in one arm. Bruce has absolutely no idea how he didn’t end up under an avalanche of linens or how said stack is staying up, but Carl looks unconcerned. 

Well, omegas do have a lot more experience carting around large amounts of bedding without dropping it than the rest of them do, Bruce supposes. And given that Carl’s stray, he probably gets more practice than most. 

It doesn’t actually seem to have occurred to Carl to put down Lor, though. Which–there’s no reason he needs to, admittedly, and the two of them have just feral-bonded, but Bruce would’ve preferred Lor gone back to Clark. That’s probably a little too much to expect a pup who’s been slowly starving for lack of milk and can’t be expected to understand why his new dam didn’t get milked up for him after all this time to ask for, though, so it’s not as if Bruce blames the kid. 

He knows Clark doesn’t blame him either, but he still wishes the other didn’t have to feel like Bruce knows he must feel right now. Clark is an independent and practical omega, but he still grew up in a society full of people who have certain expectations for omegas, and more than that, he has personal nursing-related trauma and is the kind of person who’s willing to take the weight of the whole damn world on himself and himself alone. 

So of course he’d be bothered by something like this, and of course he’d feel like he was letting his pup down. 

That’s really not what’s happening here, of course, but Bruce knows better than to expect Clark to feel differently, whether he understands that fact on a practical level or not.

[sixth-light]

(tws ahead: discussion of food, diets and diet culture, eating disorders, calorie counts, and fatphobia in the context of pregnancy)

Truly one of the most bizarre things about being pregnant has been the official advice around food. Food and eating is difficult enough already when you're pregnant - there's excellent scientific evidence that it's advisable to moderate your caffeine intake and avoid alcohol, and an entire laundry list of stuff you're supposed to avoid for food safety/food poisoning risk reasons. (I am a nerd and I read the last scientific review of the linked advice from the NZ Ministry of Health, so I can say with confidence it's also pretty well supported.) Personally, I am largely indifferent to going without alcohol, but after half a year or so my brie cravings are getting pretty intense. That's going to be even tougher for people with food restriction issues. And then there's the potential nutrient deficiencies that come when a baby is sucking up all your available iron, calcium, etcetera.

But on top of all this...a couple of things are also true:

later pregnancy and breastfeeding require a higher calorie intake because you're, uh, feeding an entire baby with your body and those calories have to come from somewhere

healthy pregnancy also requires weight gain because of the aforementioned 'growing an entire person' thing

Western Anglophone society absolutely loses its goddamn mind at the thought of telling women (and other pregnant people, but they are clearly not thinking that far) that it's okay for them to eat more than normal, let alone gain weight

So there's reams and reams of official advice which has like one line saying "maybe don't diet when you're pregnant" quickly followed by "but it's OK! you can diet afterwards! you'll lose lots of weight when you breastfeed!" and then like. eight paragraphs on how while technically, they suppose you need some extra calories during some of your pregnancy, it is DEEPLY IMPORTANT that those calories only come from the most healthy and boring possible foods, because otherwise you might gain too much weight which is the worst possible thing that could happen. Try carrot sticks! Fat-free yoghurt! Dry toast! I have literally seen advice suggesting the extra calories you need can be gained from a "small snack". Maybe an apple. (Most of the estimates I've seen about extra calorie needs in later pregnancy are in the range of 3-400 extra calories a day. That apple would have to be the size of your head.) This is all followed up with dire warnings about gestational diabetes, which is lurking in the wings waiting for any pregnant person who dares use it as justification for eating that extra biscuit. There is clearly a really deep-seated belief at play that if you give them - us - an excuse to eat more we will gorge ourselves on, IDK, chips and ice cream, because the only thing holding us back from obesity is the constant reminder that gaining weight is BAD and that eating too much food is BAD (even though the reality is that weight gain and higher caloric needs are part of a healthy pregnancy). This reality has to be held at arms' length and hemmed in with restrictions and cautions lest all hell break loose. You are very literally advised to calculate your BMI, weigh yourself regularly, and have a target weight gain - i.e. implicitly to restrict your food intake if your weight gain is higher - which I'm sure is just chill and fabulous for people with a history or present of eating disorders.

(The cherry on top of this is that it's normal for pregnant people to have suppressed appetites in late pregnancy despite needing more food because, again, there is an entire baby in there squashing their organs. Add in all those foods that you can't eat, and it can actually be somewhat challenging to eat enough.)

The bit that haunts me is that we know that caloric restriction during pregnancy makes children more likely to have higher weights later on, and you know who is most targeted with this diet-but-don't-diet-but-actually-kinda-do rhetoric? Fat people, who are advised to gain at absolute most about the weight of a healthy full-term baby + amniotic fluid/placenta/etc - and that it's fine if they gain much less weight than that, barely more than the weight of a healthy baby, which would actually equate to total weight loss. During pregnancy. It feels like there could be a lot of self-fulfilling prophecy going on here vis a vis fat parents having fat kids. which is now sometimes characterised as a form of child abuse. FUN.

Anyway, I am sure I'm not the only person to have made these observations (and if you know good writing on this topic I'd love to be linked to it, because I'm way too chicken to try Googling) but man. As I said at the start: the level at which fatphobia and diet culture are institutionalised during pregnancy, to the detriment of actual health, is wild.

(For my money, sane advice would be 'healthy eating advice is the same during pregnancy as it is other times except for the specific foods you should avoid because of increased food poisoning risk, and you need to eat a bit more in later pregnancy. The end.')

[clatterbane]

One of the things that's actually funny is that I have been eating SO MUCH more sugar (and carbs in general) since I did finally get appropriate treatment, with the supplemental insulin I've needed since at least 2008.

It's extra fun when you already have an ED history, and get plunged into that "you're obviously slowly killing yourself with knife and fork, but what would anyone expect from a lazy fat American?" mentality. Coming not least from the people who are supposed to be helping. The ED brainweasels were certainly having a party for too long, and I probably did my system some extra damage with restriction and overexertion. Whatever I did, it was not going to fix my fucked-up pancreas--and things just kept getting worse as more and more beta cells gradually died off.

I still have to nope right away from too many legit triggering conversations even among people with known autoimmune diabetes. No damned wonder we have like a 30% rate of diagnosable EDs, even on the "I did nothing to cause this, HONEST" autoimmune side of things. (I don't even need to get started on the misplaced Type Wars hierarchical BS again. Pisses me off even worse, as someone who nearly got killed by ending up on the "wrong" side of some terrible assumptions for way too long.)

And that 30% is mostly among people who did not already have disordered eating behavior (or significant scrupulosity problems) going in. It's positively encouraged--again, not least among professionals who are supposed to be helping. While being one of the fastest ways to cause your body serious mischief, especially once you throw supplemental insulin into the mix. If I am never exposed to another word about intermittent fasting or obsessive focus on carb counting with a moralistic tone, it will be way too soon.

Thankfully I have yet to hear one single goddamned word that's not genuinely medically appropriate about my weight or presumed eating habits since I did have that spectacular collapse, and then got to be clinically underweight enough that they have been repeatedly commenting on that--between the mistreated diabetes itself and the resulting GI damage from that final ketoacidosis crash. Regaining some weight and actually feeling hungry again more often, as I keep recovering from that bullshit and am consistently physically able to eat solid food again, has been sort of doing my head in lately. Not least because I do not want to get treated like garbage again, as I do recover and get back to a healthier weight. I have seen how that works, and really do not need a repeat.

There's still too much that's kinda triggering on an ongoing basis, but at least I am quite deliberately telling myself that I can eat whatever the hell I want and mostly actually DOING it. I am now decently equipped with insulin and a CGM to watch my blood sugar levels, and the world is my smörgåsbord at least as much as it is anyone else's.

I may actually go and get some ice cream in a little while. Because I want it, and I do have the technology.

[lunapwrites]

So, I have been kind of Going Through It this month, and I need to scream about it briefly because if I don't I will explode.

General content warning I suppose for health-related stuff and a LOT of discussions about food. Not ED-related.

I'm not going to get into specifics (if you know you will know) but I have an autoimmune disease that has been in remission since... fuck, like... 2015? So I've literally had EIGHT YEARS of smooth sailing. Until this month.

It could have been triggered by one of several things: stress, diet, maybe even the smoke from Canada (which is very possible given the whole immune response bit.) Or it could have just been my time to have a bad time. But either way, I have spent the last couple weeks in the "finding out" phase of the "what the fuck can I eat that won't make me feel like I want to die" game.

It has been extremely trying.

I'm currently on a modified low-FODMAP diet - both less and more restricted bc I can't eat half the shit on it, but also FODMAPs aren't necessarily the trigger - there's just a lot of overlap. Most of what I've been able to successfully tolerate for the last few weeks has been white bread, white rice, eggs, unsweetened applesauce, bananas, and avocado. None of it seasoned. Green and white teas have been mostly OK too.

I don't know if I can really stress enough how fucking miserable this is.

Like seriously I had to sit through a dinner with my in laws where the only actual safe thing for me to eat was kaiser rolls so I ended up sitting there in a small amount of pain for the rest of the evening because I wanted to see if there was ANYTHING I could get away with. I had a plate of brownies in front of me that I literally COULD NOT TOUCH, not because I'm trying to watch my weight, but because I'm trying to be able to walk back to the car under my own power. And it wasn't my in-laws' fault, because they had no idea I'm in the middle of a fucking medical event when they cooked the food, and it's not my partner's fault bc he asked me what I could eat before we even left and I said, honestly, that I had no idea, and let's just play it by ear. (Like an idiot!)

Anyway. I feel like I'm just being whiny about this but like. Cooking was hard enough with how bad my ADHD is, and I was just getting into a rhythm with these meal kits I was trying out, and they are GOOD and I have BEEN ENJOYING THEM but I literally just tried to start eating the occasional salad and my body responded by bleeding internally, and the only thing I can do right now is to just stop actually enjoying food. Which, considering I fucking love food - it's my love language, I find legitimate joy in sharing meals, I even write it into every goddamn fic I've ever written - it is quite possibly one of the most devastating things that could have happened to me. To have this one little thing I found joy in not just be taken away from me, but actively cause me intense pain. And not only that, but to have the solution be something that makes a thing I was already struggling with a million times harder.

This fucking sucks, and I am angry. And also really fucking sad.

It also doesn't help that I have an extremely high chance of developing essential tremors as I get older, which will make things like art and feeding myself next to impossible over time, so like. Really. Really doing a lot to give me things to look forward to in the back half of my life. Thanks, body.

[viktoriakomova]

And for the record, Riley's parents (mom, mostly, it sounds like) absolutely share responsibility. I acknowledge that the whole dynamic between parents of elite athletes and coaches is nuanced and complicated, especially by the fact that you're triangulating with the wants and needs of what are typically very ambitious and talented children, but this goes beyond the average elite gymnast mom stuff.

What we're hearing about Riley's case specifically goes way beyond the [already kind of distorted and fucked up priorities, imho] "pull my kid out of middle school so they can train for 30+ hrs a week and drive them to a gym at 6am 5x a week and pay huge sums of money for the privilege" shit. Even beyond turning a blind eye to regular injuries and writing it off as something that just comes with the territory of elite gymnastics.

Laurie was already gone from MG elite by the end of 2016, and it wasn't a secret that she left on bad terms with Maggie. Nor were any of the stories we've heard about Maggie's behavior during training. (Riley's mother was reportedly in regular attendance at the gym during training hours and she would have known about these things, if not seeing them herself then definitely hearing about it later that day.) Jazzy got the fuck out of there as fast as she could after her 2016 elite season was over. She literally speed-ran the rest of her bullshit online high school to go to Florida an entire year early, without even telling Maggie that was her plan lol. Maggie was the last to know. I wonder why...

And most chillingly of all, Emily Liszewski's injury (the one who hit her head on concrete after balking on a skill on bars that Maggie and Victoria Levine refused to spot her on and had a seizure while they laughed and mocked her) happened very early in Riley's tenure at MG Elite. that was in early 2016. It had been less than a year since she started there. And the cherry on top is that before the McCuskers relocated to New Jersey, Riley boarded with Emily's family. Their own kid lived with this girl and her family. They weren't strangers.

RILEY WAS STILL A JUNIOR ELITE FOR ALL OF THE ABOVE. NONE OF THIS WAS NEW INFORMATION FOR HER PARENTS.

Not just that, they watched as their own kid developed an eating disorder and osteopenia, fractured several bones (including her fucking PELVIS which is not easy to break) and had a few severe muscle and joint injuries too. that was even before the "rhabdo." And riley stayed at that gym for 6 more months after THAT.

AND THE INCIDENT AT THE WORLD CUP HAPPENED A FULL 18 MONTHS PRIOR TO LEAVING. (maybe closer to 2 years actually)

everyone in this goddamn shitshow is an asshole except for the teenage girl in the middle of all of it. was fucking NOBODY in this child's life looking out for her wellbeing as a person and not her gymnastics career?

and re: my point in my last post about trust and honesty, I would be 0% shocked if we were to find out that the calorie counts/food logs are in fact much lower than Riley (and by extension, her mother, based on things I've heard) reported to doctors/PTs/Maggie etc. Especially if you take macronutrient restriction and the timing of meals/food consumption into account and dont JUST look at the caloric intake.

[isan0rt]

Personal non-fandom post (cw: talk about doctor-ordered new food restrictions related to intolerance testing)

I'm very cranky that I have been put on a complete dairy elimination diet after going in to the doctor about what I was worried was like, pancreatitis or some shit. Not because I don't have pancreatitis or anything, that's great, happy all that shit was as easy ("""easy""") to fix as "quit eating that food you have at literally every meal." Like I'm glad there was a solution even though I cannot eat any of my favorite foods and I was already deeply gastricly intolerant of eggs so it will seriously further limit what I can eat and that sucks (unless you're eating vegan, eggs and dairy are in practically fucking everything).

But.

The thing I'm currently crabbiest about. The biggest thing. For years, I have pretty consistently felt ravenously hungry again immediately within five or ten minutes of finishing a meal, even a big meal. Constant gnawing hunger all the time.

Guess what's fucking has stopped happening in just a week of not eating dairy.

They were fucking stomach cramps. They were goddamn stomach cramps the whole time. I just didn't realize until Covid pushed me into Super Turbo Dairy Intolerance. I've been fucking intolerant this whole damn time and making myself sick this whole damn time but just so mildly I just thought I was literally perpetually hungry!! Goddamn!!!! Fuck!!!!

[unsprouted-seed]

The part that’s the hardest is that it’s literally just all in my head. The positive and the negative, the logical and the insane. It’s ALL in my head and I can’t even tell it apart most of the time. It’s just chaos. Every time I do something to hurt myself I turn around and blame myself for it... or maybe some illogical part of me blames myself for it, or maybe my disorder blames me for it. And am I to blame? Can I make better choices, on my own, without support? I ... I genuinely, truly don’t know. What even IS support? I’m not sure I know what that feels like.

I’m SO close to giving up on the concept of recovery and it’s been mere days since I’ve been home. It feels like weeks, months, years. I’m so tired, so sore, so damaged. The hunger is killing me, and I genuinely can’t tell the difference between eating as a healthy activity and eating as self harm. I desperately want to eat, in part because I’m so fucking hungry, and in part because I’m so goddamn sore and aching that I have this idea that it’ll put the nail in the coffin for me and freak me out til I’m back into total restriction. But I’m not even at my cal limit for the day, is eating REALLY harmful? Or am I just freaking myself out over food, and already restricting? Should I eat, so that it helps me? Or should I avoid food to protect me? I literally cannot tell, and I have nobody around to help. It’s just me here and my options are all wrong just wrong wrong wrong wrong..

When I came home I genuinely thought I could go a month, two months, three without a problem. I thought I had this shit. I ... don’t know how I managed to sell that to myself. I’m as lost as ever.

Going to mum’s won’t help, I know, because they can’t help me. They can only hurt, bumbling around incompetently, bashing into my sensitivities, hitting my wounds without ever understanding how much pain they cause me just by being around them.

But staying away... I .. I feel like I’m dying. it’s not a new feeling, but I just keep getting sicker and sicker, and I KNOW I’m going to end up full restricting again, and I can barely keep down the food I’m eating already, and I KNOW my body’s already so weak... and I’m honestly... at a point where if I dropped dead in a week I’d be okay with it. I’m not afraid of it. I’m afraid of lingering. I’m afraid of being alive 2 months from now, with fewer options and fewer resources, at a decision point for a choice I desperately don’t want to make... I don’t mind dying, but I want to die painlessly. And when I look at my future... in any direction, whether it’s recovery or not, mum’s or not, all I see is just pain and fear and self hate.

If I lived in a place where you could just buy a gun I wouldn’t have this problem. Would’ve dealt with it years ago. But I’m a fucking coward and I’ve tried shit in the past so many times and just... nothing works and it just causes more pain.

I’m so fucking tired.

[academy13]

I mean fucks sake, if you have members with dietary restrictions of some sort, it is not that hard to send someone out to go pick up snacks and food for them so they don’t have to make posts to send them money so they can flipping eat. Like, if the food truck is low on something maybe send someone out to pick up stuff to get you through until the next Sysco drop or whatever... I work in the food industry, it be like that sometimes, but you do not let anyone go hungry god fuckin damn it. 

Goddamn some of the shit that’s come out the last few years makes me really glad that I never got to go on tour as a member, I only ever made trainee. And Phenom was you went and got your own lunch, they were not yet doing tour when I was a member. If I were a member now I’d be fucking stressing out about my meds and my meals, because if I don’t eat I could have a bad fuckin time. So like... not only are you fucking members health wise by not giving them proper breaks or food or just general support, you’re also endangering people who already have some medical issue to begin with. 

God this angers me nearly as much as the goddamn Supreme Court’s bullshit... and its different yet not unrelated brands of bullshit!

[tw-kingbaby]

food log

7/28

10:30AM: monster (10)

7:00PM: spicy instant noodles, chocolate (520)

8:00PM: healthy choice meal, protein bar (330)

total: 860

fasted for 24 hours on accident and ended up SO hungry. i was going to try and have just the noodles but, well. ate the rest of the chocolate bar i was supposed to have with coffee over the next few days, and couldn’t stop myself from making more food so i gave in. and then i couldn’t stop thinking about the protein bars and convinced myself it’s fine to have one. and, well, it is. yes sure i wanted to low restrict this week but obviously that’s not happening. i’ve been hungry since the other day when we went out. but so far my daily average is 858 which is literally my projected caloric needs to get where i want by late september. literally fine. but i’m mad about it and my stomach hurts.

at least i avoided drinking today. was gonna have a couple with my ldr dude, but we weren’t webcamming and were just in a call while playing a game so i just didn’t drink. yeah i kind of lied about it and i feel awful, but ugh the cals.

idk how i’m going to handle being over there with him. i’m trying to plan our halloween but i’m cringing at the calories in what i’d make. i’m also desperate for pumpkin spice stuff, which is already starting to show up, and i can’t fucking eat any of it because my stupid little ed wants to ruin the one time of year i enjoy. i’m so upset with myself that this is ruining my favorite time of year and favorite holidays. might even ruin my whole trip to see my guy. we have entire days planned around what we’re eating. trips around it. actual food tourism. and i’m over here upset that i ate over 800 calories today. that i didn’t starve myself enough. i’m a goddamn clown.

do you ever get those moments of clarity when you think about what you’re actually doing to yourself and how insane it is? i can feel myself being pulled between the illustrious skinni and actual self preservation. within the same thought i wanted to recover and wanted to be skeletal. i can’t have this honeymoon ending when i’m still so far yet so close. i need just 27 more pounds. i need to keep pushing. but i want real health too. not this fake one. anorexia is literally diet-health. health lite. a fragile counterfeit of the real thing. i may one day get thin, but i’ll never have real health.

give me a week, when i hit my next minigoal, and i won’t be complaining then. i’ll snap back into it soon enough.

[b1ackb3rryw1n3aunt]

this campus really is testing my will to eat

[bloody-bee-tea]

Green

SOMEONE only told me a day in advance that it's her birthday today, so I had to rush to get something out, but here we go. I wish you the happiest birthday @joyful-king on Tumblr or Winya on Twitter!!! I hope you have a wonderful day and that you enjoy this!

It feels like the gift-cards in front of Jiang Cheng are burning a hole into the table and he tries really hard not to look at them for too long.

But those gift-cards, the bottle of the spiciest sauce Wei Wuxian could find, a picture of Jin Ling and the fan from Nie Huaisang are the only birthday gifts he got and Jiang Cheng feels bad even thinking about it like that.

It’s just—it stings. Like it does every year.

He long ago gave up on hoping for anything more from his parents, because it’s clear they don’t care enough to get him anything he would really like and at least he’s getting something from them, but Jiang Cheng always hopes for more from his siblings.

He knows he’s not the easiest person when it comes to gifts but he does have interests—dogs, baking, history. It shouldn’t be too hard to get him something that at least touches on these subjects.

Nie Huaisang actually came closest with the fan, because it’s an antique and while Nie Huaisang got it for him more because of the art that is on it, there’s actually a lot to read up on and the subject does seem interesting.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t know a lot about the history and legacy of fan painting and he’s looking forward to reading up on it.

But his siblings—that’s a different story.

They should know what to get Jiang Cheng but it seems like they can’t be bothered to put any thought into it.

Jiang Cheng morosely pokes the bottle of hot sauce, watching as it falls over and he doesn’t care enough to right it. Sure, he likes his food with a bit of spice, but he’s not like Wei Wuxian. He actually wants to taste the flavour of the food he’s eating and not burn his taste buds completely off, so he’s pretty sure he will only ever use the sauce when Wei Wuxian comes over for lunch or dinner.

Jin Ling’s picture is a nice touch, but Jiang Cheng has several pictures of him up around the apartment and if he’s being honest, he has better, cuter ones on his phone. Still, Jiang Cheng tries to remind himself. It’s a good gift, even if the picture is in a green frame. He doesn’t even like green.

It’s still better than the lotus pork rib soup Jiang Yanli made for him, because that is more Wei Wuxian’s comfort soup than Jiang Cheng’s. There are several other dishes his sister makes that he likes better, but whenever it’s the three of them, it somehow always ends up to be that soup.

Jiang Cheng is a little bit sick of it if he’s being honest.

His eyes fall onto the gift-cards again and there is a bitter taste in his mouth when he realizes that they aren’t even for anything specific.

They are just generic mall gift-cards, not restricted to any specific shops or maybe a museum or something.

Jiang Cheng reaches out for the fan he got from Nie Huaisang and opens it. There’s some beautiful landscape painted on it and Jiang Cheng hopes he can find out about the technique so he can read up on it.

Maybe he can ask Nie Huaisang what to look for, Jiang Cheng thinks and then sinks back into the couch.

He fights the urge to reach for his phone and check it for any messages, but it’s unlikely that Nie Mingjue will have messaged him.

Jiang Cheng deliberately didn’t tell him that it’s his birthday and when he sees the gifts on his table he figures he was right not to.

Nie Mingjue and he haven’t been in a relationship for that long, and Jiang Cheng figured it would be unfair to put Nie Mingjue onto the spot like this when obviously not even his own siblings can figure out what to get him.

Nie Mingjue doesn’t stand a chance at doing better, and Jiang Cheng thought this would be easier.

He’s not quite regretting it now, but he would like to speak to Nie Mingjue, would like to message him. But then he’d have to tell him what he did today and there’s no way he can keep it a secret that it’s his birthday if they get talking.

Nie Mingjue knows enough to realize that Jiang Cheng would never voluntarily go to his parent’s place for breakfast.

It still doesn’t change the fact that he wants to talk to him but he restrains himself. He will survive one day without Nie Mingjue. He did it before they got together so now shouldn’t be all too different.

Jiang Cheng manages to maintain that line of thought for at least ten minutes before he gives in and reaches for his phone.

His heart beats a little bit faster when he sees that he has a message and it accelerates even more when Jiang Cheng realizes that the message is from Nie Mingjue.

‘Are you home?’ it says and Jiang Cheng is still debating if it’s worth lying to Nie Mingjue over this when someone knocks at his door.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and he tries to shove the gift-cards all together so that it’s not quite as obvious that they are all gifts, but even Jiang Cheng realizes that it’s a futile effort.

When it knocks a second time, Jiang Cheng gives up with the gift-cards and instead goes to open the door and of course he comes face to face with Nie Mingjue, who smiles at him.

“Hi,” Jiang Cheng greets him, and for all that he didn’t want to see Nie Mingjue today, he’s insanely happy that he does get to see him.

“Hi,” Nie Mingjue gives back and leans in for a kiss. “Can I come in?” he wants to know when they part and Jiang Cheng steps aside to let him in.

“What are you doing here?” Jiang Cheng asks and Nie Mingjue shrugs.

“You didn’t answer my message but I thought I’d take my chances.” He shuffles his feet in an uncharacteristic manner and Jiang Cheng frowns at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” Nie Mingjue immediately says. “It’s just—a little birdy told me that today is your birthday.”

“Huaisang,” Jiang Cheng realizes with a sigh and he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t know why you didn’t want me to know that, but I have something for you. If that’s okay?”

“Sure,” Jiang Cheng says with a shrug, forcing himself to stay calm and to not expect anything special.

Nie Mingjue can’t have known about his birthday for long and Jiang Cheng can’t expect him to do better than his own siblings. He reminds himself that it’s the thought that counts.

Nie Mingjue pulls out an un-shapely gift-wrapped something from behind his back and Jiang Cheng already feels like crying because this is clearly not a gift-card and is therefore already more than he could ever have hoped for.

“You shouldn’t have,” Jiang Cheng whispers as he takes the gift but Nie Mingjue shakes his head.

“I should have done more. But Huaisang only told me about this yesterday, so I was a little pressed for time.”

“Yeah, sorry for that,” Jiang Cheng mutters but Nie Mingjue shakes his head, motioning for him to unwrap the gift instead.

Jiang Cheng does so and he tries not to think about how this is the only gift that actually came gift wrapped today, because that’s just a depressing thought on its own and he doesn’t want to worry Nie Mingjue.

He notices that the gift is rather squishy and soft in his hands and it only spurs Jiang Cheng on to unwrap it faster until he reveals a shiba plushie.

“You got me a plushie,” Jiang Cheng whispers, unable to take his eyes off it. “You got me a dog plushie.”

“I hope it’s okay? I mean, you love dogs, so I’m not concerned about that, but some people can get weird with plushies?”

Jiang Cheng is long past pretending to be weirded out by plushies, especially since he has no legs to stand on, seeing as he never quite manages to take all the plushies Jin Ling leaves in his bed out.

“I love it,” Jiang Cheng honestly tells Nie Mingjue and steps forward for a hug. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome, my heart,” Nie Mingjue says as he wraps his arms around Jiang Cheng and presses a kiss to his head. “Why didn’t you tell me it was your birthday?”

“I didn’t want to put that kind of pressure on you,” Jiang Cheng mumbles and Nie Mingjue doesn’t even have to say anything for Jiang Cheng to hear the follow up question.

“I’m kind of hard to shop for,” he admits and tries very hard not to feel dejected when Nie Mingjue pushes him away.

“You are not hard to shop for,” Nie Mingjue tells him with vehemence. “Even someone who has only known you for an hour would know that anything with a dog on it would make you happy.”

Jiang Cheng lets out a wet chuckle at that, because Nie Mingjue is goddamn right about that and it hurts even more that his siblings don’t seem to know it.

“I also wanted to get you a baking book, but I know you have a few already and I didn’t want to buy you a duplicate.”

“I love you,” Jiang Cheng says and pulls Nie Mingjue in for another kiss. “This is the best birthday present.”

Jiang Cheng can tell that Nie Mingjue wants to ask about that, can see the worried frown on his face but Nie Mingjue doesn’t voice his questions.

“Huaisang will be so mad that I outdid him.”

“He comes in a close second,” Jiang Cheng allows and looks at the plushie again. “I’ll name her Sunshine and she’ll keep me company every night.”

“Just say that you’d prefer her in your bed over me,” Nie Mingjue says with a big sigh and huge dejected eyes. “I gifted you my own replacement.”

It startles a laugh out of Jiang Cheng and he realizes that now, like this, it’s actually a pretty good birthday.

“I could never replace you,” he promises Nie Mingjue and then pulls him further into the apartment. “Stay for dinner?”

“Sure,” Nie Mingjue immediately agrees and it feels like a huge weight falls off Jiang Cheng.

He knows that Nie Mingjue likely still has questions—especially when his eyes fall onto the gift-card pile—but with Sunshine in his lap and Nie Mingjue at his side, it might be easier to talk about.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

[distinctlywhumpthing]

Together 6: Inferno.

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CW: explicit language and content, multiple whumpees, torture, captivity, conditioning, noncon touching (non-sexual), implied noncon (sexual), dehumanization, electrocution, shock collar, beating, gaslighting, manipulation, restraints, extreme control of food/exercise for appearance, mention of passing out/vomiting due to exercise/restricted diet, controlling whumper, multiple whumpers, possessive whumper, masked whumper, letmeknowifimissedany

The next day, I wake up before August. He’s starfished on his back, feet, and one hand hanging off the bed. He looks even younger asleep, with freckles scattered across his nose, long eyelashes, and not much facial hair for a man who hasn’t had the chance to shave in a handful of days. The stubble that is there is even lighter than his hair, tending toward blondish rather than auburn. He sits up ramrod straight and groggy as hell when the keyring clangs against the outside of the metal door.

“Let’s go, Princess,” one of the goonies drones as he opens it. It’s Darius, but for some reason, he’s wearing a ski mask.

Weirdo. Did you just come from robbing a bank?

Maybe the mask means they’re planning to let August go, a good thing. I wouldn’t wish this life on anyone, but I still feel a bitter pang of jealousy. I don’t look back at him as I walk out.

Wyatt is waiting for me in his office, upstairs. He’s already cleared his desk for me. There are gauzy curtains in front of the windows so I can’t see the view but I always look forward to the daylight. Today, it’s muted like it might be overcast or raining. I strain to listen to see if I can hear it on the windows.

“Come here,” he says, standing and patting the desk in front of him.

I walk over, trying to read into his expression and tone. It’s never easy to tell what I’m in for because he’s so calculating. I don’t think I’ve ever once seen him lose control of himself in all these years. I sit up on the desk. He steps in between my knees so we’re eye-to-eye, tucks my hair behind both ears, and puts his hands on my thighs. Close enough that he can inhale every minute expression on my face and in my eyes like I’m shotgunning him.

“How do you like your new roommate?” he asks.

I’d shrug if it were allowed. There’s a remote to the collar in the pocket of his blazer. Instead, I just blink at him. Does it matter? Either way, he won’t be around very long.

Wyatt nods like I really did just answer him. “He made some poor choices last night. You were perfect, putting up with all of that.” He lifts his hand to the side of my neck, thumbing the collar through my shirt. “A little healthy fear will set him straight. I bought a new belt just for the occasion.”

Christ. I work to keep my face neutral.

Beatings have never been his M.O. with me. Except to make sure the silence was deep enough that not a damn thing earthside would illicit a fucking peep out of me, but he made it a point not to leave scars. He wants my body as perfect as my behavior. Otherwise, it’s all about the mind for this lunatic. Patient enough to find the trigger that will have me agreeing all on my own. He feels powerful, and I guess he is, for knowing just how to frame things, pinpointing what I want and need, even if I don’t realize.

“When it turned out he’d be staying longer than intended, I knew I couldn’t let the opportunity pass. He’s just too perfect,” Wyatt purrs.

What the fuck does that mean?

Wyatt stays silent and goes on reading my face while my thoughts snowball.

Shit. Why are you smiling at me like that?

Finally, he seems to have his fill of my reactions and squeezes my thigh. “It’s been quite a while since you took that many shocks, Emmy, and I can’t have you being stiff later,” he tells me, then pulls a tablet out of the desk drawer. “Do a yin yoga class—you haven’t eaten enough for anything else.”

I dip my head once in a nod.

He runs his thumb along my jaw before moving so I can hop off the desk.

The yoga is part of a whole distorted regimen. Wyatt wants my skeletal frame toned and flexible. “Not just skin and bones,” he says, but then goes on feeding me one meal a day. There’s no way he doesn’t calorie count the shit out of everything that passes my lips to elicit what he wants but it’s never enough to truly exercise on. He’s had me try other things but I’d just pass out or throw up and he wasn’t willing to adjust the input to equal the output. I love the yoga anyway.

The clothes he has me wear are skin tight and all black because boy does he love to watch me move. “You’re so graceful,” he’ll croon, admiring his maintenance of my figure. In the beginning, I wasn’t flexible enough for his liking, so he’d push me in the stretches until I thought my muscles would snap. Sometimes he’ll have some look-the-other-way woman come in and wax every surface below my neck so that in a black yoga bra and practically-underwear shorts, I shine. Then, he’ll have me to do all sorts of other things.

—

When I finish the video, an hour long, he waves me back over. He’s been watching me the whole time, a serene look on his face. He has me sit in front of him on the desk again. Prefers me up here, all within reach and eye-level. Carlos brings in our lunch in paper bags. It’s an endless rotation of delivery and takeout here. I can’t say I’ve ever seen a kitchen. Wyatt passes me a compostable bowl with a plastic lid. He knows this is one of my favorites.

I narrow my eyes.

The shit-eating grin comes back.

I don’t turn down the food though, despite the twisting in my stomach. Hunger strikes result in having a tube shoved down my throat. After all, my body is his wonderland. He eats a burrito, reclined in the chair with his feet on the desk next to me. Sips Coke out of a glass bottle and passes it to me. Purses his lips while he watches me hold it by the neck and take a swig before I hand it back. It fizzes down my throat sweetly.

Fuck, what is he planning?

It’s not strange to eat together or share a drink, but there’s something in his eyes today. An extra sparkle of anticipation. Last time he was like this, I wound up hanging from the ceiling for half a day. Contorted by silk rope knots into a goddamn living chandelier. The goonies had express permission to carry me after that one on account of my limbs turning to pins-and-needles jello.

After I finish eating, he tells me to find a book to pass the time. “I won’t have you getting sick later,” he says, pulling his phone out, dismissing me.

I move my ass before he moves it for me even though my sense of dread is deepening. I’ve made a fair dent in his library by now. Naturally, being a psychopath, Wyatt is well-read and intelligent. Lots of philosophy, social theory, plenty of psychology (but I feel like those must be a trap so I avoid them), books in other languages, and classic literature. I find it a little one-sandwich-short-of-a-picnic-basket that he wants his effectively-mute captive to also be well-read but it’s beyond me to try to understand his depraved logic.

—

When he’s decided it’s time, he stands and walks over to where I’m curled up in the armchair by the bookcase. “Let’s get you ready,” he says, holding out his hand and leading me over to his desk.

My pulse hammers in my throat.

He picks up a crisp sopping bag, pulls out folded black clothes. I usually change after I shower but it’s always a roll of the dice with Wyatt, especially in this kind of mood. I’m surprised when he starts putting the clothes on over what I’m already wearing. It’s baggy sweatpants and a hoodie—also black—and then some sneakers. I can’t remember the last time I wore shoes. Next, he pulls a little case out of the bag and opens it to reveal earbuds.

Oh, hell. Not again.

We’ve done this before. He took me out to some fluorescent superstore, spread his goonies around on video calls to record me, and sat in the fast-food restaurant with his laptop. Read me a shopping list and watched me sweat through it. I nearly had a conniption at the register. It was one of three times he’s ever taken me out.

Wyatt smirks at the misgivings playing across my face and passes me an elastic for my hair. I pull it all into a low, tight bun and then he uses first-aid tape to secure the headphone inside my ear. I’d never dream of removing it myself, and he knows that, so whatever is about to happen to me puts it at risk of falling out. I haven’t felt this scared in a while and it’s making him smile even more.

I know being hopeless but no longer frightened provides an irresistible challenge. It’s not like I can help being resigned to his life for me, exactly as he intended. He doesn’t want me shitting-my-pants-afraid. It’s not about that. He could have made me vacant, and not just silent if he’d wanted but there’s a thrilling risk to pushing me. My psyche is his game of Jenga and he never loses. He knows how to manipulate, balance, and finesse every piece so that I’ll only ever wobble, dangerously close to collapse but always just shy, leaving him infinitely validated. So, I know he’d never put me in a position to truly break but I still fear the magnitude of the wobble. And the duration.

Wyatt has handed me gloves and is now holding up the last item from the bag. A clown mask.

Oh, god. Are we actually robbing someplace?

If I weren’t wearing so many clothes, I would be convinced I was in for some twisted, kinky shit, especially with these gloves. He ties the mask securely behind my head and I’m already sweating under the foamy rubber just imagining silently holding someone up. With a loaded weapon in my hand.

Fuck, Wyatt. Seriously?

He traces his fingers down my arms, pulling up my hands and helping me off the desk. Holding my arms out and looking me over like he’s seeing his prom date’s outfit for the first time and just knows that he’ll get to take it all off later. He drops my hands and pulls the hood of the sweatshirt over my head.

“Perfect,” he purrs and leads me down the hallway toward a door I haven’t entered in a very long time. I’m wearing too many clothes for what that room is usually used for. I hope.

Wyatt moves in front of me and pulls me close so our noses almost touch, lowers his voice in a way that is far from soothing. “If I’m not happy, with any aspect of your performance, I will personally tenfold it. Understood?” He searches my eyes one at a time. Left to right and back again.

I nod, stomach already somewhere by my feet.

He leaves me in the little hall, alone. There’s a yellow light bulb underneath a metal cage on the wall.

Sonofabitch. I’m terrified.

Naturally, I don’t move until Wyatt's voice comes over the headphone in my ear. “Go in. Close the door behind you.”

Calm down, Emma, you just have to survive this one thing right now. How bad can it be?

I take a deep breath and open the door, step in, and close it softly behind me, not sure what is waiting for me since it’s dark. My eyes don’t have time to adjust before the lights flick on.

All my blood runs cold. This is undeniably the ninth circle of Hell.

Wyatt lets me stand there, frozen, and unable to pull air into my lungs, for more than a few of my stuttering heartbeats before he finally gives me my next command,

“Emma, pick up the belt.”

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Taglist: @deluxewhump

[dreamii-yume]

Yume-sama which guys are the best at eatin' p*ssy?

Yume’s back! BABIES _:(´ཀ`」 ∠): Have something hornii because I’m sAltY~ (´；ω；`)

Ace seems to be oddly good at this for the whatever nasty reasons he has. I like to imagine that he’ll put on a face that looks like he’s about to fuck you up so bad just to get you on edge but is actually really careful and considerate when doing so. Of course, he won’t be honest with his feelings and when you slowly realized that he’s actually being gentle for your sake, that’s when he’ll attack tsun-tsun defense mechanism, i guess? His tongue will work extra hard to force another orgasm out of you. Add some insults in the middle of the whole session and boom, it’s a spicy Ace content right there!

I think we already established why Cater would be a master when it comes to eating out pussy, Darlings. See this post for more information but goddamn does our Heartslabyul senpai know what he’s doing. Maybe he’ll take a little pic after he’s done messing you up? Look at how soaked the sheets are~!

Yes. Daddy Trey would eat that pussy and enjoy it, similarly to how you would treat his sweets with an overwhelmingly amount of passion. He may have played that nice guy persona, but DON’T BE FOOLED, Darlings. He’s a fucking hornii monster on the inside and he’s hungry for that pussy, alright? He always had been, this man is just both blessed and cursed with extreme amounts of patience. He ain’t a nice senpai at all though, once he got you where he wants you, just don’t expect him to stop anytime soon.

Chenya. Yes, I’m adding him since we have two RSA students now and I want to give them love too. He’ll absolutely do it even there’s a lot of people around, right under a fucking clothed table for example. He’ll take advantage of his invisibility magic and spread your legs during an unbirthday party, the roughness of his tongue tingles your insides. You’ll try to keep your voice down, sure, but little did you know, it’s Chenya’s goal to have everyone’s eyes on you as he eats you out, destroying their hopes and dreams of ever trying it out on you. your Heartslabyul friends will be in utter chaos for sure, just be ready

The feeling of Leona’s textured tongue scraping against your clit is just aaaaahhh...You know those shivers of pleasures you get down your spine, you will FEEL that shit. Leona wouldn’t even have to seriously do anything, simple licks of his tongue is just doing the work for him. Still, it’s enough for electricity to go through your whole body and your head is pounds from the amount of orgasm he brought upon you. You’ll eventually find your hips moving on its own, wanting to feel more than his tongue.

With a lick of his lips, Ruggie is ready to indulge, thank you for the food~! If we’re talking about sexually hungry and thirsty twst bois here, than we cannot not talk about Ruggie-senpai here. Don’t underestimate him, he’s surprisingly good with using his mouth just as much as using his fingers, I mean what can he say? He grew up a glutton after all.

Now, if we’re conducting a contest on who can eat out Darling’s pussy better, how about we add a tag team in here!? No other pair has better teamwork than our beloved Leech Brothers! Their tongues are long and hugee (OwO) One can restrict your movements and even spread your folds for his brother to freely eat you out until you build up into such a nauseating orgasm. They can be each other’s emotional support too! If Floyd becomes a bit too unhinged, Jade can use his big bro powers and keep him in his best behavior. it’s not fun if you broke that early on in the game after all. This can happen the other way around too, by the way, albeit rarely. Just letting you Darlings know. geez, now i wonder how Darling is gonna cope up if both of them loses control...

Jamil is...yes, just, yes. Find yourself a man who’s both talented in getting you dicked down for the night and eat you out like it’s the best meal he ever had. He takes your feelings into consideration, he knows your sensitive parts even if you don’t tell him. He’s very observant of your reactions and learns very quick, he’ll find your special part no matter what.

Rook cares for The Art of Eating A Pussy™ He loves the way your face would contort in different emotions depending on the place his tongue is exploring inside your dripping cunt. He treats you like a sacred treasure, savoring your reactions like it would be the last time he’ll see them in which we all know it wouldn’t be He’ll take pictures to preserve the beauty in your emotions as he believes that no two expressions are the same, he comes for the love hidden deep inside. You don’t know how he does it but for some reason, orgasms done by Rook always feels so damn timeless, like euphoria coming to you all in one place.

And then we go to our old man, Lilia! dont call him that This man is aggressive, Darlings. You think those fangs are just for show? Wouldn’t say the same thing once you feel them digging on your flesh as he begins to suck that sensitive pussy, huh? When he feels like it, he can’t be stopped! Heck, he’ll fucking eat you out even during your p e r i o d, Baby. Just watch him do it, he’s dead serious! He’ll tease you a lot and dirty talk is just his thing, you know? With how seductive he stare at you from between your legs, your juices dripping down his jaw.

Haha, so here’s the story! Yume was gone for like a week to finish a sinfic! ( ＾∀＾) The good news is that she finished it! Yay~! ٩( ᐛ )و The bad news? Her laptop broke down suddenly, she doesn’t know why or what to do and now, she can’t proof-read and edit properly. (°▽°) (im anxious to post a fic that’s not proof-read, i refuse)

I’ll see if I can do anything about this, just bear with me, Darlings! Have little crumbs as of now! (＞人＜;)

...I’m lowkey having a mental breakdown due to this stupid laptop suddenly closing down on me. I mean, I have online class to take! (c" ತ,_ತ) The power button’s unresponsive and it’s not charging, I’m getting this checked out tomorrow (*´ー｀*)

(I’m posting on my phone again which means~! pretty colors~!!! ☆*:.｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆ )

[writingssummit]

𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬.

driving at night with haikyuu characters !

song listened to while writing: mother mother + mindless self indulgence playlist.

content: late night driving, already existing relationships, fluff, comfort. xreader technically

characters: bokuto, sugawara, asahi, and nishinoya for a bonus :)

a/n: been feeling up for this, and yes idk what time it is anymore, i just have extra writing energy all of a sudden. 😶 i am a huge fan of night drives, it’s one of my favorite things to do, so why not write about it with some haikyuu characters? warning, i’m half asleep so these might not be the best jsjsjs. have fun reading !

bokuto !

car rides with him are immaculate regarding vibes. music is playing, the windows are down.

this particular night, you guys have nowhere to be, so you aren’t really going anywhere specific. it was your weekend, so you guys were going to make the most of your night!

and yes, it’s 2am LOL

this guy is totally jamming out to the songs, tapping the steering wheel with his fingertips.

yelling out lyrics is a common occurrence, i take no criticism here.

y’all probably annoy the hell out of the neighborhood, or surrounding areas where you pass through just because bokuto has his bass up super high

“is it too late for a drive, bo?” you tilted your head at your boyfriend, debating the idea in your head. it was pretty late already, most sane people were asleep around this time. but his eyes lit up right away at your question. 

“it’s never too late. go get your shoes on, we’re going right now!”

and so that’s how you ended up in his car at 2 in the morning, music and bass up to the max. houses were passing by the window quickly. you had questioned whether or not it was okay to be so loud now, since there were still people around them in their homes, but he assured you it was just fine. after all, it was fun, and who didn’t like that?

“ohoho, this is my SONG!” bokuto slapped the steering wheel, and cleared his throat. you couldn’t help but cackle at his antics. he was a good singer, you wouldn’t deny that. but at times like this, he was absolutely awful- he was screaming out the lyrics, and you were starting to cry in laughter, and stumble through them when you tried to join in. it only egged him on, because it was a positive response. bokuto lived for that.

you guys definitely got some calls from your neighbors.

sugawara !

normally, night drives with sugawara are chaotic and sometimes unplanned, you never know where you guys will decide to go, or when you’ll get back because you both just have a lot of fun with each other.

but tonight was a comfort drive.

you weren’t feeling the best that day, and suga picked up on that.

“c’mon, we’re going to the car.” 

??? what?

he ends up driving you to the perfect place to stargaze.

and from there, he pulls you out of the car, and carefully helps you on top of the car roof.

there’s no blanket but you settle between his legs and just aaa <3 soft cuddles.

“sugar, we’re going to the car. get your shoes on.” you make no move to get up, you weren’t up for anything right now.you felt shitty. so how could you even sit up?

“baby..” he crouches down in front of you, reaching up to cup your cheek in his hand. “i promise, this will help a little. you only have to move a little, okay?” he murmured, stroking you with softness and warmth only he was capable of.

how could you say no again? he was so gentle when he asked, and honestly any form of distraction would be nice..

the car ride was somewhat quiet, the music playing was just from one of the popular stations, which suga hummed under his breath. it was normal, and peaceful. you rested your head against the window and sighed. was he bringing you to a shop? grabbing a bite to eat? 

but you weren’t expecting him to pull into an empty field. you cock an eyebrow at him, but all he does is grin. next thing you know, he’s pulling you out of the car, and onto the roof of it. you laugh a little at yours and his struggle to get on top, but it ends up being worth it to you.

the stars were amazing where you were, and you counted as many as you could see while he rubbed his thumbs over your hand and knee. your back was pressed up against his chest, his arms draped over you.

“you’re my star, y/n. now and always.”

asahi !

you guys were driving along the lake, slowly so you both could get a look at the nightly reflections on the surface.

your night drives are always 1000% calm and comforting. serene, even.

soft piano music in the background.

i’m getting “i’m taking you out on a drive to get out your energy so you can sleep” vibes from this guy haha

“isn’t the lake beautiful?” you murmur, your cheek pressed against the window of the passenger seat. you were trying to get a good look at the water, all of it’s reflections and such.

“do you want me to...put the window down for you, love?” your heart swelled at the pet-name, and you nodded. yawning, you peek your face outside and into the air as you guys drive. this was really cool, and the music was totally calming. and that paired together made yourself grow more and more tired by the hour. 

“time to start heading back now?” asahi’s voice was as gentle as ever. you nod slowly, eyes already shut. “mm.”

he chuckles to himself before turning around.

nishinoya !

please for the love of god don’t let him choose the music

jokes aside, you guys are hitting up all the fast food restaurants, i just know it.

you guys have enough for like 3 people.

it’s a pleasure drive, you guys are there for the energy and experience.

the sunroof is totally open, allowing you to stuck your upper body outside as he drives.

you’re both whooping, and just having fun.

he totally speeds, y’all better be careful-

“oh my god, please don’t. you’re banned from the music choice, remember?? i can’t trust you anymore!” you snort as you change the music to something more appealing. nishi often played questionable songs, which were funny, but sometimes it was simply terrible.

a disgrace, if you would.

“how restrictive- i just want to play my goddamn music some day, it’s not that bad, y/n!” oh, yes it is. he’s just too nishi to notice. you both start to debate what counts as good music, but he makes a quick, small topic change.

“now, do we got to that one place, mc donalds, or...”

teases be damned, you were hungry. “all of them. all of them, i will-” you couldn’t even get the rest of your sentence out because this man just put the gas pedal down even more, and you cried out.

“nishi, what the fuck! too fast, are you crazy?” you’re not mad, your grin and wide eyes could prove that.

“c’mon! sunroof’s open, scream it out!” he shoots a grin at you, and you do just that. he makes you feel alive, exhilarated. and of course, full of food.

i’m so tired woah- thanks for reading ! my asks are open, feel free to drop one ! here’s my prompt list in case you’d like to send a number with it, and here’s my blog basics for rules about requests !