#this is lowkey a drabble

[0bticeo]

You wanted a make-up Fic title and "Finders Keepers" popped up in my head somehow👀

you're mark grayson's childhood friend and neighbour, and have been in love with him for a while. have been there ever since his fifth birthday where you first met him by accidentally kicking a ball in his birthday cake. (a whole mess. you didn't mean to kick it that hard.)

you get along great. william looks at the both of you and sighs, wondering why you share the same exact brain cell and why it's solely focused on seance dog and superheroes. nolan and debbie may or may not have asked mark to keep his bedroom door open when you were hanging out after you both turned fifteen.

you wish their worry was justified. mark doesn't even look at you that way. and as time passes, as his attention focuses on amber, then on eve, you come to the heartbreaking realisation that he never will. he's invincible. she's atom eve. you're nothing special. just his childhood friend, to whom he talks less and less because of "hero stuff".

when you see reports of multiple invincibles burning earth's great metropolises to the ground, you're not particularly phased. just a regular old thursday, knowing that mar- invincible & atom eve will save the day while you're busy trying not to die, half buried under rubble they don't even see, because casualties and property damage was never their forte.

you're going to die without having ever given anybody a chance because you're too hung up over markus fucking sebastian grayson to try, and the thought sickens you. you slam your fist on the ground in rage and watch as the precarious concrete structure above creaks and topples down towards you.

mark’s face greets you.

his mask is black and yellow and his smile is all kinds of wrong, and you don’t need to see behind his goggles to know there's a sheer look of glee in his eyes. 

“well, well. look who we have here.”

when your mark comes to you at last, ready to save you, all clenched fists and righteous fury, his variant holds you firmly against him, one strong arm wrapped around your waist, fingers digging in your throat.

“let her go.”

“finders keepers.” he hums, inhaling the scent of you. “shame you didn’t bother bagging her sooner.”

there’s something like horrified realisation marring the features of your world’s mark. you’re not fighting. you’re leaning against his variant’s chest, soaking up his warmth, almost relishing in the low rumble he lets out as he laughs. 

you wonder if he’ll weep.

taking requests! send me a title and i'll write a lil drabble!

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

shoto todoroki is fucking shameless. and surprisingly clingy.

he’d done a good job becoming a little more social little by little. he’s still a little wonky and awkward during the few times he tries to make conversation, but he tries and that’s the good part. you’re proud of him.

you’ve known shoto since you were kids, his closest friend, you’d seen him through it all and you’re so grateful that he’s found friends he feels comfortable and happy with, though he always reassures you that you’re dearest to him, which always makes you a little too giddy and flustered for somebody who’s supposed to be his closest friend and nothing more.

you’re in the cafeteria chatting with your mutual friends, shoto had told you to go off without him since he needed to go the bathroom and you found yourself sitting next to midoriya when he’d scooched in next to you, happy to see there was still a spot for him at the table. you liked midoriya a lot, he was sweet, cute and most importantly he made shoto come out of his shell in a way that you regrettably never could, plus the way he flails around when he gets embarrassed is pretty funny.

(you did notice ochaco’s face going completely blank for a few seconds, but you didn’t think much about it.)

after a few minutes of giggling and chatting shoto shows up, and something is immediately wrong with the way his natural straight face goes absolutely dead in the span of three seconds. it’s subtle, but you know him and it’s there. there also seems to be a chill in the room now.

he’s at your side of the table in three seconds, but he doesn’t register your smile in greeting as his cold gaze is glued to the green haired boy next to you.

“midoriya,” and his voice even sounds a little deeper, colder as he speaks like he somehow managed to use his right side on his mouth.

“that’s my seat.” he states calmly.

“oh ! my bad, todoroki !” izuku splutters an apology, but shoto’s eyes do not waver, staying fixed on the boy until he grabs his tray and makes a move to stand “i didn’t realize this was your spot, sorry !”

you feel a little bad at how intensely he’s apologizing, but you’re still shell shocked about that look. shoto seems unfazed though, his expression morphs slightly when izuku goes to squeeze in next to iida.

“i always sit next to yn.”

it’s so stupid. really, it is. how fast that makes your heart beat. because shoto does always sit next to you, he always has and he still always does when you come over to his house. but it’s the fact that he didn’t say he always sits here, in his unassigned assigned seat.

he said he always sits next to you. and your mind and heart races.

you don’t get much time to think because immediately he’s next to you, sighing before sitting as close to you as he can. he looks over to you and you look back, still a little startle but his features are soft again when he looks at you. he drops his utensils to thread his fingers with yours under the table.

“ did you wash your hands, mister ?” you tease, but you squeeze his hand when he squeezes yours. he frowns but it’s not the one from before. it almost looks like a pout and you snort.

“yes, i did.” he snips, you giggle and his eyes soften. even as you assure him you were just kidding he doesn’t mind, he couldn’t be mad at you.

you offer him a bite of your lunch as truce and he leans forward and plops a piece in his mouth from your chopsticks, then offers you a bit of his precious soba noodles and even holds a hand below them so they don’t spill because he insists on feeding you himself.

your friends pretend they don’t see the lowkey romantic exchange, but with the way shoto keeps insisting to have you eat his food and the soft barely there smile when you crack a joke that manages to break through his icey demeanor, they can start to figure out why he wanted to sit next to you so bad.

[huntingrays]

pjo prompt: percy and jason have to go on a quest together, so they both decide to bring their respective partners (annabeth and leo). during the quest, they get kidnapped by monsters and percy and jason wake up in an arena. the monsters explain that they have their partners and in order to save them, they have to fight to the death, with the winner getting to leave alive with their partner, while the other is killed. however, the monsters are very shocked when percy and jason sit down and start calmly playing cards with each other. they’re not worried about their partners. instead, they’re worried for the monsters. they trapped annabeth and leo together, two of the smartest demigods. the girl who redesigned olympus and the boy who built a warship in six months. they were toast.

[cottonlemonade]

Thinking about how Atsumu is the type of guy to never use your name again once you’re in a relationship.

From the moment you accept his confession, it’s pet names galore ranging from classics like “baby”, “princess” (if he feels spicy (or condescending)), and “love” all the way to absurdities he brings out when he is in a great mood such as “my plump little dumplin’ supreme”, “main squeeze���, “schmoopy” or his personal favorite, born out of a night drinking with his team, “babelicious”. You had him sleep on the couch for the crime of using that last one.

But as soon - and I mean as soon - as he gets a ring on your finger it’s always “my wife”, “me and the wife” and “wifey”.

“What am I doin’ this weekend? Oh, ya know, me and the wife are gonna hit the farmer’s market.”

“Hang out tonight? Can’t, wifey asked me to pick up some groceries for dinner.”

And god help the poor soul whoever asks about how you are doing because Atsumu will pull out a three-page essay, put up a slide projector, and dim the lights to tell that person all about what his wife is up to.

(tbf you’re not much better because you loooove saying “my husband”)

[clamped-jaws]

18+ below // minors dni!!

loser!coworker!steve harrington who’s like fully obsessed with you to the point where he’s begging you to fuck him and has been for months.

and you bully him about it because 1, you can tell he’s been in the adult section doing more than just putting the tapes back post customer returns, and 2, ew why would you ever do that.

but he’s all needy and wanting, so when you finally give in just to get him to shut up about it he cums damn near as soon as you go to unzip his pants in the break room.

now he’s rutting himself against you like a horny dog, using you like you’re not even a person, pushes against your fingers in the break room that’s way too hot and sticky damn near choking you both out.

and when you start to pull away, he’s grabbing for you.

remembering you’re not just some fantasy, that this is happening and he still hasn’t gotten the chance to be inside you yet.

you won’t let it happen even still. but he won’t shut up about it, whining even more. and you want to laugh at him but he’s got a surprisingly big dick so you’ll just have to make it work for now.

[astrxsee]

you always said nothing would come of it…

that’s until john’s cock is pounding into you from behind, mercilessly. his strong arm wrapped around your middle with his weight draped over you.

‘been needing to fuck you for so long, sweetheart’

his lips trailed kisses over your back, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. his other hand held himself up as he relentlessly sunk in and out of your dripping pussy.

‘i knew it was gonna be warm and tight, but doll, i was not expecting this’

he throws his head back as you let out a long whiny, moan. his pace quickens as he grabs your hips and forces you back on his cock. deep grunts leave his lips as your eyes roll into the back of your head, the tip of his cock touching as deep as it could go.

‘wanna fill you up, wanna give you more of my kids. i know you’d make such a good mother, babygirl.’

john would be lying to himself if he said he’d rather fuck his wife than his precious girl. he knew it was wrong but you were everything he wanted, how could he hold himself back.

john price always gets what he wants.

[bunnyyyuu]

shoto who doesn't know how to show physical affection: he always clams up when it's touching time. it seems like he's running away from your love. it hurts your feelings big time, to be frank. but, wait! no, no, that's not it at all. he loves you, he cherishes you, he worships you.

even though his back is always pressed against yours at night rather than his arms tangled around you, he cares. despite his adversaries to intimacy, he cares. while he can't do much more than a hand-hold on a good day, he cares. he cares.

shoto who wakes up before the sun just to pack you a lunch for work. shoto who replaces the flowers in the vase on your bedside right before they start to wilt. shoto who's hands are in his pockets, but his eyes are always on you. shoto who spends his commute to-and-from patrols reading up on your interests and hobbies, so he can fully understand and sympathize with your adorable rants. shoto who pays for everything even though he doesn't have to. shoto who can't go shopping without picking up a "little something" for you. shoto who has a note on his phone filled with little things you've mentioned only once that you like or you want. shoto who makes time for you—"hero work is important, but not more than you." shoto who thinks you hung the stars, and who would hang them for you.

shoto who loves you his way.

[bonbonly]

𝐓𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: heavily inspired by hannibal - after hearing tons of praise in regards to psychiatrist!max verstappen, you decide to test your luck and see what his true colors are 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: this is a dark fic! you have been warned! do not read if you're not comfortable with dark fics or any of the following in this fic: dubcon, drugging/aphrodisiac, knife play, cunnilingus, p in v, character death, reader is not a good person, blood/gore, slapping 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5k 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i want to give a special shoutout to @gokyrts because look at the abomination she's made me write, oh my god...

"mr. verstappen's skills knows no bounds, but the only ones being bound under his spell are the countless patients he must've paid to spread his work as if it were a gospel," you echoed the words that you wrote onto your laptop, the rough draft being filled with small notes on the side of the document to remind you of any criticism of the man that you might've missed the first time. your fingers drummed against the keys of your laptop, your brows furrowed as you tried to find another sentence to add. to spite him. to inform him that he had to be a greedy, money hungry hoax. your friends always told you that his appointments were so relaxing, they were very helpful but you saw through his lies. you knew that something had to be up. working as a forensic scientist for the BAU, and secretly organizing a crime blog under a pseudonym, you've racked up enough credentials to be under verstappen's radar. perhaps he was the only one that knew about the blog, and it irked you.

he mentioned once after you stopped by his office to request his presence in the lab. direct orders from your boss, you stated, making it very clear with your tone that you didn't ask for it. you'd rather die than have him near the corpse, stealing all the credit that should rightfully go to you. the depths you went to find the real perpetrator days later was overshadowed by the single fact that verstappen had walked in and saw a petal of a rose just underneath the right calf of the corpse. a careless mistake, he told your boss, but one that could be easily tweaked if you had just scheduled an appointment with him so he could discuss parts of your childhood that you locked away, buried underneath your heels so that every time you stomped around, you imagined it to be the throat of your parents. you were told to accompany the psychiatrist back to his office, and when you dropped him off he merely smiled at you, his dutch accent infiltrating your ears, "you always miss the details, which is surprising because you never seem to do it under your blog, caroli- i mean, ms. (l/n)."

your blood ran cold at his words, and you stumbled out of his office with a hardened glare. he was reading your blog, and had somehow directed it to you. how did he know? there was no possible way for him to know. you worked for the fbi, for peter's sake, you knew how to tidy up evidence, to be careful when lurking through unclear waters. how did the bastard know about this? so, when you typed up the new article criticizing his work and suggesting that he might be behind the disappearance of a few colleagues of yours, you knew he would read it. with full confidence, you wanted him to read it and storm into your office ready to snap your neck.

but he never did. in fact, he never even looked at you at all the next day. or the day after. or the week after. he smiled at your associates, then locked himself in his room, welcoming in patients and booking appointments for the ones too timid to ask him for one. during a lunch break, you walked past his hallway and pressed your ear against his door to listen in to an appointment he had with your friend. the shattering of glass, a muffled scream, the sound of a bullet, metal cracking against her skull, any sound would do for you. you just needed one piece of evidence, but you received none. your friend walked out unscathed, a happy smile on her face as she greeted you back in the lab. your eyes cast down to your hands, a feeling of momentary guilt rising in your gut. you wanted to forge your hands into the fire for writing that article and painting him in a bad light; no favorable colors, no accurate brush strokes, a half-assed attempt where the paint bled through the canvas, seeping through the lines that you carefully concocted. it didn't make sense, you were so sure of it! all the victims -charles, lewis, carlos, daniel - your good friends who were missing had one thing in common: they had booked appointments with verstappen before their disappearance. they also were in contention to get a promotion, daniel had also been a psychiatrist, eagerly waiting for his new life to become the head of the department one day. it was a risky move, but you figured that if you pushed his buttons enough, he'd slip up. he'd expose himself, he'd make a mistake and then you'd have him trapped. the entire BAU would understand that they had a criminal right under their noses this entire time.

for this entire plan to succeed, you had to do a few things. your first plan was to write more articles on your secret blog. while the BAU was scratching their heads about how their confidential cases were being exposed so easily, you were dropping bombshell after bombshell on your blog, your finger always pointing to the psychiatrist that would now look at you across the room with a deadly glint in his eyes. his lips were always in a thin line, and occasionally you caught him smirking whenever you'd miss a detail during analysis. you were predictable to him, and you needed to find a way to defeat him at his own game. there was a reason as to why he hadn't exposed you yet, perhaps the lack of evidence but you realized that there was something about you that made him keep quiet. you had power over him, the thought of it made you giggle uncontrollably at your desk one day, spinning around your chair like a little school girl. the second plan was to use his own tricks against him, which meant finally noticing the smaller details, being smarter than the rest of the team and most importantly, being incredibly fast. whether it be responding to your boss, showing up to a meeting, scavenging a crime scene to find clues or evidence, you had to be first. this entire time the team thought of him as reliable because he was the first one present at all times. you had to change that, had to show the team that the tide was turning to your favor. you noticed the way he'd bite the inside of his cheek, the light illuminating from the side would highlight his cheekbones, the dent a shadow amongst the very little light on his face.

and then finally, the third part of your plan. book the appointment with him. this one hurt your ego the most, but in order to catch him you had to stoop down to his level. making him think that you were willing to open up to him should give him the opportunity to do the same with you, and once vulnerable you could easily coax the truth out of him. you sat across from him on a velvet chair, legs crossed as your eyes traveled around the room, memorizing the layout of his office and the objects that were on display.

"lots of cars i see here," you pointed towards one large model of an RB19 on his shelf. he buried his hands in his pockets, teetering on his toes as he let out a small chuckle,

"i like things that are fast. things that fly, speed through... run," the last word sent shivers down your spine, but you swallowed the bile that threatened to rise and forced a smile at him.

"care for a drink? i got some wine if you'd like?" he walked over to the stand of champagne bottles on display. the glass sparkled under the light, its contents swishing around with each step that he took closer. it reminded you of your guts wanting to spill out and as he grabbed the bottle's neck, you gulped and felt the ghost of his hands tightening around yours. with a cough, you shook your head but he rolled his shoulders in a way of disbelief and stalked over to you with a wine glass in his hand, "please, i think you need it. it's ok, it'll help you relax."

the liquid pooled down your throat, but you kept your eyes open in fear that he might take advantage of you like this. you couldn't let your guard down, not like this. you watched as he settles down on the couch directly across from you, his legs spread out giving you an ample view of what you assumed to be his cock fighting to be restrained in his pants but with a firm snap of his fingers, your eyes flicker up to his face and then you saw the smallest hint of a smile on his face. you hadn't seen one in weeks.

"so why exactly did you book this appointment?" he asked, tilting his head. his hands clasped together, the forefingers coming up to touch his lips. you shrugged in response, before quickly shaking your head. shit, you needed to follow along with the plan you made!

"just... just been having some bad nightmares about my past," you responded. the topic of your parents was sensitive, one that you kept hidden for many years after you graduated high school. their death was their own doing, but somehow you felt that you had a part in it. had the murderer been you, it would've made no difference because the guilt remained. the bystander was far worse than the actual criminal. your mother's head rolling down the hill as your father watched with a twisted back. you winced at the memories, the glass slipping from your hands, "fuck!"

max watched your reactions carefully. his eyes were drawn to the way your fingers hovered over the glass, almost afraid that it would grab you. you paid no mind to the wine stain, but the countless apologies that spilled from your lips was music to his ears. he wanted to hear you say them, but in a very different circumstance. he read every article you wrote, he noticed your shift in behavior around him. he was a psychiatrist; if you wanted to play mind games with him, he was already ten steps ahead. while guiding you to stand near the shelf of cars, he went over to his closet to grab the broom and dustpan. he took off his coat, rolling the sleeves of his shirt before crouching down to gently grab the large pieces of glass. he dragged his finger onto the pool of wine on the floor and licked a long stripe, "such a shame. i always hate seeing my appetite go to waste."

the appointment was cut short much to your chagrin. your carelessness, you thought to yourself, you just didn't understand why you kept making small mistakes like this. you had to train your mind to be better. you sighed and gave one last glance to the RB19 model when you noticed the initials D.R. in italics on the edge of the car. before you could step closer, you felt strong arms grab onto your shoulders, guiding you out the door, "ms. (l/n), i am so sorry about what happened here. i would love to hear more about your past, but perhaps in a setting that might not scare you too much. dinner at my house, maybe? would that be an offer you're willing to take up?"

you frowned at his words, wriggling away from his touch, "you invite all your patients to your house for dinner?"

"only the ones i believe i have a strong connection with," he responded, licking his lips as he leant against the doorframe. you tapped your heels a couple times, thinking the offer over. if you declined, you'd have to come back to his stupid office. but... but if you accepted, you'd be able to catch him in his environment - and while he had the advantage of home ground - he definitely had to be hiding things there.

"you mind if i bring a friend over?" you asked, and he smiled,

"the more the merrier, but i don't think we can talk about your history then."

"it's ok. we can talk about my life later."

"6:30 at my place, i'll send the address down to you shortly."

"oh, mr. verstappen, dinner is very lovely! did you make this all by yourself?" your friend asked while taking a bite of the lasagna. her words are tuned out as you shifted through your food with a fork. the darkness of the dining room did little to ease any of your fears. you had walked in feeling confident, ready to tackle the monster down with your bare hands, but his kindness. his professionalism. his unwavering stare. they all made you feel as if you were being suffocated. you didn't have much energy in you to continue with the fake conversations. excusing yourself to use the bathroom to then explore his mansion would be too cliche, he'd be waiting for you to do it anyway. being too predictable would bore him, which would mean the chances of you being killed would be higher.

"not liking the food, ms. (l/n)?" max asked, his eyes flickering down to the food he cooked being tossed around like a bird amongst hyenas.

"no, i'm just... not very hungry, unfortunately," you responded, grabbing the wine to drink.

"a bite wouldn't hurt. just one bite, i spent hours cooking for tonight," he chuckled, and your friend kicked your leg under the table, her eyes narrowing at you to take a bite. you could already hear what she was saying in her mind. the poor man went out of his way for dinner and here you are, being a rude guest! with a very reluctant sigh, you grab hold of the fork and let your teeth sink onto the lasagna, the flavor melting into your tastebuds as you let out a slow hum of approval. it tasted nice, very nice actually. so you took another bite, and then another. her appetite's back, your friend laughed and max nodded his head, smiling at you.

but when dessert rolled in, you felt uneasy. your insides felt empty, as if craving for something that you couldn't quite place. your thighs clenched together as your gripped onto the arms of the chair. you couldn't make out whatever max was saying. he was asking you if you were alright, but his eyes asked a different question. you hadn't noticed how big his eyes were before, or the fact that his pupils were so dilated. how did you miss that detail before? was he always like this? you quickly excused yourself, running to the bathroom but each brush of your thigh under the thigh made you choke on air, your mind hazy. upon locking yourself inside, you immediately collapsed onto the ground, your head in your hands. you felt strong pair of hands around your waist, groping at your tits that spilled out of your dress - or was it be ripped off of you? your pussy bare against the cold dampness of the room, your mouth propped open with fingers as the sweet taste of an apple made its way. your jaw was sore at how your teeth delved into the fruit and stood rooted there as your arms were bound above your head. was that the woody scent of a candle, or the fireplace that was underneath you? where was that burning sensation? under you... or inside you? your legs were being spread apart, the itchy rope curling around your limbs to make sure you wouldn't move. you opened your eyes lazily to see a figure with dirty blonde hair at the end of the table, his shiny teeth visible amongst the evil grin you saw.

"my favorite meal... all to myself." he whispered, letting his tongue rake over your glistening folds. your strangled moans are swallowed by the apple in your mouth, your body aching for more as his nose nudges your clit. his teeth nip at your labia, tongue invading your womanhood as you can't do anything but scream out loud, drooling from the corners of your mouth. his tongue rolls your clit around, lapping at any juice that seeps from your cunt. he wants to ensure your taste is on his tongue forever. the sweetest dessert that one would ask for. his fingers spread your mound to get a good look at his masterpiece and he lets his saliva stalk down to your pussy before harshly rubbing your clit. when you finally look past your tits to see who this figure was: your heart stopped at the sight of max staring down at you with a predatory look.

you screamed as you woke up in your bed, cold sweat dripping down your forehead. you glanced down to your hands, your feet, your clothes that covered your body. you looked around your room, unsure as to how you were back in your bedroom. it felt real... was it real? you couldn't tell. you pulled the waistband of your panties down, check to see if you were still a wet mess. nothing. laying back down on your bed, you placed a hand on your heaving chest and ran your free hand down your face. what just happened? what was going on? you had to find out, you had to get to the bottom of this.

which meant having to go back to his house. on guard, and once again with someone. you decided to bring a colleague that you despised, but it would be better to sacrifice her than your friend.

you sat across the dining table, and despite how predictable it was, you excused yourself to the bathroom, keeping note as to how his eyes focused on your ass. never miss the details, you thought to yourself. you headed to the bathroom, opening the door to turn the lights on before shutting the door. with a few fake thuds just outside the bathroom door, you took your heels off and carefully took them with you around the staircase. with the layout of the house, the dining room wouldn't give clear access to the left side of the kitchen. which meant that the pantry could be entered carefully without him noticing. your colleague was busy entertaining him about her vacation in milan, her loud voice thunderous enough to rattle the house... and enough to mask the creaking of the pantry door as you slipped inside. it was cold, almost like entering the arctic as you pulled out a tiny flashlight to guide you through the foreign place. the meat hung forlornly from the hooks, the torse of a pig on display. you frowned at the ink patterns on the meat, and you hesitantly turned it around. you'd seen these marks before somewhere. a vacation trip with your friends that you planned one evening. someone had dragged you into the pool as a prank and when you floated to the surface, spluttering out the chlorine water, your hands found the shoulders of a man inked with tattoos on his back. it was lewis. your flashlight slipped out of your hands and clattered onto the metal railings.

"fuck, fuck, fuck!" you hissed, scrambling to grab the small material. you were delighted that your suspicions were correct, that this entire time you were right about verstappen. but you needed to get out. you could see the shadow of footsteps underneath the pantry door. there was a back entrance to the pantry, and you stumbled towards it. from the corner of your eye you noticed a bottle of liquid and you uncapped it with your teeth, chugging the liquid down. you really needed some wine to calm your nerves down at the moment. letting the bottle roll back onto the metal table, you ran out the door into the open woods. you'd have to go around the path to get back to your car in the front of the house. the more minutes you stood to think about a plan, the more time was being wasted. from the distance, you could hear the back entrance of his house being opened and you whined out loud, pushing your feet to continue running. you didn't want to die, not like this... no, not now, not ever!

and yet with each step that you took, you felt a strong pain inside you. that pain you felt when you had dinner for the first time at his house. you were craving for something, you didn't know. was it his tongue again? no, what? why were you thinking about that awful nightmare? you remembered the outline of his cock during your first appointment, oh it looked delectable. you could've gotten on your knees then and sucked him as payment for the appointment! as your mind was reeling with uncontrolled desire, your knees buckled and your leg caught onto a root from a tree. crashing forward with a loud groan, you struggled to get back up on your feet when you felt the underside of a boot press gently against your neck, pushing your face onto the ground.

"i told you before i liked things that run. at this point, you're just teasing me," a familiar dutch voice rang from above you. the boot nudged you over onto your back, causing you to hold back a whimper at the sensation. you were sensitive to everything, your skin on fire as he trailed his foot down your body and right below your heat. right below where your desire was burning.

"y-you killed them. i was right, you killed them all," you weakly laughed, "i was right this entire fucking time."

"round of applause for you, ms. (l/n), oh wait..." he paused, looking around the empty woods before he glanced down to you, "no one's here." he rubbed the toe-box of his boot against your clothed cunt, enjoying the way your back arched, squealing at the way your clit was being dragged along your damp panties.

"tsk tsk tsk," he circled to stand right in front of you between your legs, "you always missed the details. you could've made it, you know? you could've gotten to your car and made it back to your house, schatje. but it's your carelessness... what did you drink before you came out here?"

"w-w-wine?" you responded, tilting your head. you let out another moan as the boot dug deeper onto your mound.

"wine mixed into the aphrodisiac. which would've been my last resort if you had properly rescheduled the appointment that we never finished. details, ms. (l/n), always look at the details," he knelt down, letting his hand replace his boot. the warmth of his fingers made you whine, begging him to end your suffering. your mind was purely empty - save the thought of having him satisfy your primal needs. he bunched up your panties, tugging them up to see your pussy coat the fabric with more of your juices, "fuck... you're so wet. it must hurt doesn't it? you wish you had someone to help you, schat?"

"yes, yes, yes please... please!" you cried, bucking your hips up. max laughed, seeing the way your pussy was grinding against your panties. he ripped them off of you, throwing them over his shoulder as he picked you up into his arms, carrying you as if you were his bride.

"i think a change of environment will put you in your place." he mumbled, and while you didn't catch onto it at first, when he tossed you onto the metal table in his pantry, you felt fear course through your body. "such a nice suit i had on today, and now you made me ruin it."

he slips off his coat and vest, rolling the sleeves of his shirt that hugged his biceps. he searched around the pantry for a while before grabbing an apron, tying it around his slim waist. he gazed up at you as his chin tucked into his neck and he let out a dry laugh, "you know... if you had just stuck to your job, this wouldn't have been a problem. always wanting to be the hero, when you're the villain yourself."

he grabbed the butcher knife, tossing it in the air a couple times, "i used to keep him with a bunch of other knives, all neatly organized just like i love. had to use him so often these days that he gets his own special spot. what do you think? he's beautiful isn't he?" he holds the knife up to your hooded eyes, and when you don't respond, he uses the butt of the utensil to slap your face, beckoning you to respond.

"i-it's nice," you mumbled, and he nods his appreciatively, letting the sharp edge of the object gently kiss your skin before he cut away at your dress and bra, exposing all of you to him. he saw the lump in your throat when you swallowed, and he brought the edge of the knife to your neck, watching you crane around to avoid the sharp edge. he tossed the knife in the air once again, which caused you to shriek out loud in fear that it'll slice you but he caught it and tapped the butt of the knife on your lips.

"suck," he commanded, and still clouded by the aphrodisiac, you do what he asked and twirled your tongue around the tip before opening your mouth wider and letting it fully devour your throat. you caught your reflection in the metal, and you can't even believe how blinded you must be. the details, the details, the details. the body of daniel hanging above you, staring at you with closed eyes and parted lips should have you screaming as you rolled your eyes back, but instead you're feeling yourself growing wetter, eager to please max. the weapon hits your teeth as max trailed your saliva down the valley of your tits, over your navel and to your cunt that's been so desperate this entire time. he pursed his lips as if he was deep in thought and then brought his free hand to spread your legs wider, shoving the butt of the knife into you. the feeling of being stretched out, of finally being filled - even if only a little - had your back escape the confines of the metal table, your tits out in the air as you're sobbing in joy. max saw the way you're mewling, body contorting in pleasure and he left your cunt empty once again before slamming the butcher knife right beside your head. your breath hitched in your throat, the fear once again settling but it made your heart race in excitement. there was a small thrill present, maybe he was right earlier. you were the villain all along. you were worse than him. he took off the apron, unbuckling his belt and he snickered,

"you could've grabbed the knife and stabbed me by now, but you didn't... too desperate to get fucked, isn't that right, liefje?"

he let his cock spring free from the confines that tormented him since the day he saw you at the BAU. head held high, a haughty gleam in your eyes. the arrogance as you talked down to him, acted as if you were superior. he was waiting all along for this moment. his cock slid against your folds and when he pushed in, the tears that flowed from your eyes combined with the guttural moan made him smile. something was missing though, something that could make this so much more better for him. and as he began to thrust, he glanced up to see another corpse from a previous victim hanging to the side. a cruel idea formed in his mind and he grinned down at you,

"schatje, i don't think i could bring myself to hurt you... not when you're being such a good slut for me," he cooed, "but... but a man can't help but imagine..."

he grabbed hold of the butcher knife, slicing the corpse and letting the blood splatter onto the top half of your body. it trickled onto the table beneath you, the tiled floor now the canvas of a new twisted desire. he laughed out loud at the sight of half of your face covered in blood, and he brought the coated knife to your neck, continuing to thrust his aching cock into you as you screamed out loud in a horrid mix of fear and desire. you could feel your cunt clamp onto his cock, so close to cumming as his thrusts became more erratic.

"i knew you'd like this... you came all this way here to see if you could understand me. schat, but do you even know who you are?" he questioned, letting the edge of the knife kiss your neck. and as you came undone with a scream, your vision blurring at the intensity, you realized he was right all along. the details, you missed all the details. your parents death wasn't because of some man that had swerved the car late at night. it was you. you swung the sledgehammer at the car while they were driving down the highway, drunk out of your mind out of anguish from all the abuse you faced as a child. the man stopped to see the commotion and you sent his body flying down the hill. you'd done it, you were a murderer. you were twisted, you were... you were as bad as him. you glanced up to see max still bullying your cunt, pushing you to another orgasm before you could process the toll your body was taking in the process.

"your scent always drove me wild," he whispered, leaning down to bite your nipple, "fuck, schatje... i'll give you a deal." he lifted his head slightly to meet your gaze, "we can work together, you know? with your skill and this cunt of yours, i could keep you around. no harm to you at all, unless of course you'd like it."

"t-the blog... no, no, i can't... i'm better than you. i'm not you, i'm not fucked up like - oh fuck, don't stop!" your argument melts away with each snap of his hips,

"you have no other choice here. there's two ways this can go. you keep coming to my office, be my personal slut, trained completely to take my cock and i'll let you live... with the added benefit of working and helping me. and if you don't," the butcher knife digs a bit deeper into your neck, "i think you understand what i mean, right schatje?"

you nod your head, throwing your head back as you let out another visceral scream as your second orgasm rips through your body. he captures your lips in a bruising kiss, murmuring praises at how perfect you'd be, how you were always destined for this, no matter how much your ego told you differently.

and yet as you laid beside him on his bed that night, well-cleaned and taken care of as his new trophy, you secretly uploaded the photos of his pantry to your blog and slipped out of his house, past your dead colleague in the living room. he'd come after you, that was for sure. but he liked to hunt, and you've learned to run.

[horsegirlwarcrimes]

for @skeren ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜

"Mu-shidi?" Yue Qingyuan asked.

Mu Qingfang was sitting on a decorative rock in one of Qian Cao Peak's small meditation gardens with his head in his hands. Yue Qingyuan paused, hesitating at the edge of the garden as he watched Mu Qingfang's shoulders heave with a deep sigh.

"Zhangmen-shixiong. In your purview as sect leader, do you believe I have the power to medically relieve someone from their position of authority on the grounds of madness?" He asked.

"Ah, I should have known this was coming," Yue Qingyuan said. He approached and sat next to Mu Qingfang on the rock, folding his arms over his knees and offering a small smile. "Will Mu-shidi finally be requesting this one's resignation?"

Mu Qingfang snorted a laugh and uncurled, but not without rubbing once more at his brow. "Actually, I meant myself."

"You?"

Mu Qingfang turned to look at him. Yue Qingyuan's brows shot up, startled at the absolutely exhausted and frantic look on his face. The healer was pale, his eyes shadowed, and Yue Qingyuan realised for the first time that some of his hair was slipping out from his wooden guan.

"What happened?" Yue Qingyuan asked, reaching out to catch Mu Qingfang's wrist. Mu Qingfang allowed the contact, not protesting at the reversal of their usual position as Yue Qingyuan probed his meridians, which Yue Qingyuan thought was a sign something was truly wrong.

"It's Shang-shidi," Mu Qingfang said gravely, which was not what Yue Qingyuan was expecting.

"What do you mean? Did something happen to Shang Qinghua? Did he—do something?"

"Is Zhangmen-shixiong familiar with the Bleeding Heart-Tongue Berry?"

"The one that causes full-body hemorrhaging?"

"No, that's the Crimson Bleeding Heart Berry."

"Oh. Oh, the one that requires oral dual cultivation to cure the deadly fever?"

"No, that's—it doesn't matter! The Bleeding Heart-Tongue Berry's sap and flesh is a powerful truth serum. It compels anyone who consumes or comes into physical contact with it to say whatever is on their mind, with complete honesty."

Yue Qingyuan looked around nervously. "We don't have an outbreak, do we?"

Mu Qingfang sighed one more, pushing his hand under his glasses to press against his eyes. "Shang-shixiong came into contact with some when he was on his last mission off the mountain. I have no idea how, since he was assigned to go secure a trade deal to the North East and they only grow in the South West, but—"

"But he was afflicted, and is now compelled to speak the truth?" Yue Qingyuan asked.

Mu Qingfang slipped his hand from Yue Qingyuan's so he could grip his arms, leaning in intently.

"He is driving. Me. Insane."

—

Mu Qingfang led Yue Qingyuan to one of the nearby patient rooms. Inside, Shang Qinghua sat at a low tea table, sipping at a cup that smelled medicinal and poking at some nuts and seeds on offer. Nothing looked amiss—Shang Qinghua didn't look damaged or ill, and the room was neat and orderly.

When they entered, Shang Qinghua's head shot up.

"Mu-shidi! Zhangmen-shixiong! This one is—not super glad to see you! Not that you're not great. Mu-shidi, I really appreciate how you keep us all alive. Remember that time I accidentally drank ink as a disciple and you had to pump my stomach? Yeah, I so am glad you were there to do that and not let me die. And Zhangmen-shixiong, you're very hot, and I love that, and I find how sad you life is—well, troubling actually, although not enough to do anything about it. You kind of make me uncomfortable to be around. But the hotness helps! Not right now, though. Right now I would love if you would leave, because I really don't want to tell you about anything I am thinking about, because I just got done spending three days sucking demonic dick and I really don't want to answer any follow up questions about—"

Shang Qinghua's eyes went wide. He grabbed a handful of the snacks and shoved them into his mouth, presumably hoping to stem the flow of words. Instead he immediately choked on them and coughed up walnuts and melon seeds over the table.

Yue Qingyuan rubbed his forehead. "Ah. I think I see the problem."

[homosexualgirlandbags]

You ever think that was at least one time where Simon told Johnny they 'needed to talk' (about Johnny leaving his socks right outside the laundry basket) and sweet innocent Johnny replied:

"Ah'm pregnant with your bairn, yer' cannae leave me'"

"...wut?"

They both stared into each other in complete silence after, Simon looking as though he might have a concussion from trying to decipher Johnny's words. It takes him a minute before he sighs and rolls up his sleeves, grabbing Johnny like a potato sack.

"Well, I s'ppose we're two men, but we could most definitely try"

As Johnny came to find out that day, you could get very very close to getting a man pregnant.

(insert this with my trans! Simon, and you can see my full vision)

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

HI ILY!!! i was wondering if u could do a argument fic likeeeee katsuki and reader got into a argument and they are both DISTRAUGHT bc they’re so corny and in love and hate fighting but the argument was bad and they’re oh so sad whatever whatever !! and katsuki has to make it up to them EEE !! PLEASE I LIVE EAT SLEEP AND BREATHE UR FANFICS !! LOVE U CASHHH🤍

operation : trouble in paradise !

katsuki tries to get his boyfriend privileges back..

EEEE TYSM AND I ACTUALLY LOVE THIS ASK !! Its my guilty pleasure like both parties hating to argue bc they love each other so much im so sorry that’s adorable. and again ty SOOO much !!! hope you enjoy, ive actually gotten a similar ask, so that one ill try to have that come out soon !

FEM READER, katsuki is melodramatic, argument, fluff fluff despite argument, 3rd year bk squad boys !, kissing, making up yipeee, reader likes flowers,lemme know if i missed sum else !

“she fuckin’ hates me.”

for the past ten minutes he’d barged into kirishima’s room, bakugou has been moping. wallowing, even.

“no she doesn’t, man..” kirishima reassured. for the umpteenth time, he’s honestly lost count. he’d tried putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder earlier but said boy had shrugged him off angrily, grumbling out a dramatic “don’t touch me.” despite being flopped face down on his bed.

“i know her better, kirishima. yes she does.” the blonde insists, voice muffled by the redhead’s pillows. kirishima sighs, patting his friends leg before making his way to his office chair across from the bed, ignoring the muffled grumbles bakugou lets out.

“how bout you just..go apologize ?”

“i already told you i can’t. she—”

“yeah, she hates you. got it.” kirishima finishes his friends sentence, causing the blond to groan. “look dude, you’ll never know unless you try. you’ve been together for ages now.”

“a year.” katsuki corrects, he purposely forgets to mention he knows exactly how many months it has been too. kirishima nods excitedly, trying to get him out of his frankly sad state. “yeah ! so, this shouldn’t be anything man. arguments happen all the time, no matter how much you love each other.”

katsuki feels his ears burn at the word love on his friends lips, he’s told you he loved you of course. but it still felt weird to acknowledge it.

he turns just enough for his scowl to be visible to his friend, who sends him an encouraging smile.

“so what the fuck do i do then ?” kirishima grins wider, sharp teeth on display. “there we go, that’s more like ya, dude !” he exclaims. he quickly shuffles to grab a notepad strewn onto his messy desk (kirishima’s desk was so messy it made katsuki itch sometimes, a shiver almost passes through him whenever he sees the state it’s in)

kirishima drops onto the floor, placing the notepad onto his mattress and scribbling, with a pen katsuki has no idea where he fished out, a messy “operation: get your bf privileges back !!!!!!” bakugou fixes kirishima with a dead look, the other only tilts his head, still cheerful.

“what ?”

“what the fuck is this, kirishima.”

kirishima scoffs at the blonde’s dead tone, “listen man, you wanna win your girlfriend back or not ?!” bakugou squints at him, hard. but only let’s out a loud sigh. kirishima takes that as his answer and with a nod continues writing down notes.

katsuki groans to himself, looking down at his friend scribbling down his grand plan, and he better hope it works.

maybe you should call him..

no, you won’t. it was his fault you were like this anyway.

..but maybe you went a bit too far..?

ugh. you groan, rolling around in your bed. you’d tried to distract yourself by going through your tiktok feed but it seemed the world was against you or your fbi agent hated your guts. your feed was either overly cutesy couples content that made you miss your angry blond, or break up videos that made you miss him even more.

ugh. you shove your head even harder in your pillows.

you’re really trying to hold your ground, because you want katsuki to know he’d hurt your feelings, but now that you think about it you don’t even remember what you’d argued about. it was petty for sure, you’re about 80% sure it was a petty argument.

maybe you should—

you shake your head, steeling your nerves. so what if it was a dumb argument ?! that didn’t mean he could get away with everything!

“uuuugh,” you groan out loud, you miss your katsuki.

a knock at your door startles you. it must be mina, you’d texted her earlier that you were mad at your boyfriend and she’d told you that she “excepted all the deets of what his dumbass did this time as SOON as i get back !!!!” and you were waiting, maybe venting about it could make you feel better and less dramatic.

you open your door expecting to see your overly excited best friend. but instead—

flowers, almost whacking you in the face you might add, are shoved in your face before you can get a word out. you squeak in shock, they’re pretty though, your favorites. and you know only one person who knows what your favorite flowers are.

“wh-katsuki ?!”

and there he is, red faced and angry. scowl on his face and bouquet of pretty flowers in hand.

you can’t tear your eyes away from him, he can’t keep his eyes in one spot—flying from you occasionally to your door to the flowers and repeat. he blinks, you blink.

“here.” he grunts, waving the flowers towards you. “f’r you.” he glances at you.

“o-oh !” you exclaim suddenly, whisking the flowers towards yourself. the bouquet is big, it’s definitely a bit bigger than your head. katsuki searches your face to gauge your reaction“i—uhm! thank you..” you utter shyly, katsuki grunts. he shoves his hands in his pockets the moment you’ve gripped the bouquet, kicking at something you can’t see on the floor.

your heart skips a beat. tentatively, you lean against the door “didn’t take you for a flower guy..”

he scoffs, kicking the toe of his sneakers against the floor “‘m not.. but you like these, right ?”

trick question. he knows you do, you mentioned in passing these were your favorites, unless you suddenly decided you didn’t like these anymore. then he’s fucked. but he decides to continue despite the worry growing in his lower belly, the plan was already a go now.

“i—uhm, listen..” your boyfriend fumbles, he throws his head back and groans when his words won’t come out right. you give him a tiny smile, his eyes soften just a bit.

“i fucked up, okay ?” he admits, scratching at his nape “shouldn’t have said all that shit to you, or whatever..” you can tell he’s beyond embarrassed. he’d melt if he could get any redder, he keeps scratching and won’t look at you for more than a few seconds at a time and katsuki who’s always the loudest in the room can barely manage a mumble. you know he means it though, he never did anything he didn’t feel like doing. you wait for him to continue and he looks at you then.

“i don’t ever like arguing with you. ever.” he insists “so jus..forgive me, kay ?” he finishes quietly. your heart jumps and leaps and you can’t stand acting cold anymore. you walk a bit closer to him, the flowers block you from fully being close to him.

katsuki’s eyes are wide as you lean in to kiss right next to his lips, you laugh at his bewildered expression and his eyes soften when he snaps out of it. he rolls his eyes, you smile wider.

“i forgive you, i’m sorry too. i don’t like arguing with you either..” you admit, katsuki reaches for your hand, you feel the tips of his fingers brush against your skin, you give it to him and he grips it tight. then he leans in and presses a kiss to your lips, it’s a sweet little apology kiss that turns a bit too passionate after a while, and you pull him towards you and into your room away from prying eyes. katsuki kicks the door shut behind him and pulls you closer by your waist.

“guess i gotta—thank shitty hair..” he mumbles in between kisses, “an’ i owe him twenty bucks.”

you make a noise against his lips and pull away, raising a brow and holding his shoulders when he tries to lean in to kiss you again. “what’s that mean ?”

your boyfriend huffs “told shitty hair i’d give him twenty bucks if his shitty plan worked.”

“plan, what plan ?” you ask, katsuki squints at you, a grumbling noise comes from his throat, almost a whine.

“yer really gonna make me spell it out aren’t you..” he mutter bitterly, shoving his head in your neck. he continues, “shitty hair helped me come up with a plan to make you not mad at me anymore. i told him it wouldn’t work, he said it would, and we bet on it.”

you laugh in disbelief, katsuki chomps at your neck to silence you, squeezes his arms tighter around your stomach to make you wheeze, but you can’t stop laughing. “that’s so cute !”

“shaddup.” he growls in response. you muffle your giggles in his shoulder. katsuki grumbles some more and you run your hands up and down his back.

“well then,” you hum, pressing a kiss to his nape, his arms around you tighten. “i guess we’ll both have to thank kiri then.”

[into-fiction]

just something that's been rattling around in my brain:

In a world where Fiyero never makes it to Shiz, he arrives at the Emerald City as a brainless prince roped into being the political boyfriend of Glinda the Good, Oz’s most darling public figure. At first, he thinks this is a pretty good gig, but there’s a level of mystery surrounding Glinda that gets darker and darker the more he learns. 

Like the fact that the Animals of Oz’s underground railroad keep trying to talk to her. 

Like the fact that the Wicked Witch of the West appears to be following her. 

Like the fact that she doesn’t remember anything from before four months ago, except a single name.

Elphie. 

(drabble below)

“Wait!” Fiyero cries, arm outstretched as though he can keep the witch from leaving. “Please,” he whispers. Desperate. Begging. “C-can you tell me why?”

Elphaba’s eyes narrow, her lips thin. “You don’t know?”

Fiyero shakes his head. 

Elphaba’s gaze skirts over him, appraising. “What do you think happened?” she asks, taking Fiyero aback. He swallows hard, collecting his thoughts. 

“I think they…I think they did something to her,” he confesses. His voice is barely more than a whisper, his palms clammy with sweat as his skin prickles with fear of being caught saying something so treasonous. But-

He’s had his suspicions for months now. 

Elphaba turns properly toward him, nodding sharply. “But do you know why?” she pushes. 

“I--” Fiyero breaks off, mind whirling. Why? Why would the Gale Force, the Wizard, whoever- why would they want Glinda to have amnesia? 

“No. I don’t.”

Elphaba tilts her head, gaze calculating. “Do you know who Madame Morrible is?” she asks, throwing Fiyero a little.

“The Press Secretary? I- yeah, I do. She’s close with Glinda, why?”

Something furious and wild flares in Elphaba’s emerald eyes, so much so Fiyero has to resist the urge to step back or reach for his hip. “You’re saying she had something to do with it,” he says. It’s not a question, but Elphaba nods anyway. 

“You catch on quick.”

Fiyero gulps. “She- she’s unsettling,” he responds. “Glinda spends a lot of time with her, but she’s rattled after. Won’t talk to me. Her meetings with Morrible or the Wizard are the only times I’m not allowed in the room.”

That, more than anything, had been the biggest red flag. But Elphaba still hasn’t answered his question. 

“What did Morrible do? Why is Glinda like this?”

Elphaba stares, silence stretching until Fiyero shifts on his feet, uncomfortable. Only then does she speak. “You really haven’t figured it out yet?”

A breeze stirs, swirling around the edges of Elphaba’s black cloak. Her chin tilts up, the wide brim of her hat casting sharp shadows over her face. “She’s like this because of me.” 

Fiyero feels the air get sucked out of him. “You?”

Elphaba nods, but this time it is rigid, stiff. Mechanic. She looks at him like she’s waiting for him to put the pieces together. 

“Because I wouldn’t conform.”

Fiyero’s head is spinning. He’s got all these pieces and he knows they fit together somehow if he just thinks. He’s never been known for his brain, but right now it’s working overtime. Morrible. The Wizard. The Wicked Witch. Glinda the Good. 

What? What is it? What is he missing? 

The answer comes slamming into him with the force of a bullet train. Or- maybe just a bullet. It pierces through his heart, ripping at the vulnerable core of him. “She’s a hostage,” he breathes, soft and horrified. 

Elphaba’s smile is the saddest he’s ever seen. “She’s leverage,” the witch explains. “Because Morrible knows I would never let her get hurt.”

Fiyero curls his fingers into fists, throat tight. “Because you love her,” he chokes out. “Don’t you?”

Elphaba’s shoulders slump, something almost like grief ghosting across her face. “You do, too,” she says instead of answering. “I can tell.”

Fiyero stammers, shaking his head. “I-it’s not like that,” he protests immediately. “It’s just a job.”

But Elphaba’s eyes are all too knowing. “No it’s not,” she states calmly. “Glinda is…she’s sunshine. She’s warm and she’s beautiful and she brightens your day. She’s so easy to love.”

The way she says it, soft and fond, tears at Fiyero’s chest, making his heart clench as he takes in her worn appearance. “It’s- it’s not like that,” he says again. Because it isn’t. Fiyero cares for Glinda, more than he probably should, but after just a few minutes of talking to her, he knows, intimately-

He doesn’t love her like Elphaba does.

[mooniiify]

what about tsukishima with a girlfriend who’s insecure about her glasses?

it starts off a little into their third year of high school. she keeps complaining that her eyes are burning during every study session, sometimes they even water up. and once tsukishima showed her something on his phone and y/n asked him to give her the phone because she couldn’t see, tsukishima pointed out she probably needed glasses.

she scoffed. “no, i don’t. the typing is just too small.”

“i see it perfectly fine with my glasses,” tsukishima pointed out. “when was the last time you got your eyes checked?”

silence fell between the two for a moment. y/n played with her thumbs. “. . . never?”

tsukishima sighed. “just go get them checked. you might not need them, but it’s better to know. otherwise you’re just straining your eyes.”

she waved him off, but decided to actually take his advice and book an appointment. tsukishima hadn’t heard about it, not until she called him on a tuesday two weeks later.

“i look so fucking ugly.” she cried dramatically on the other side of the phone.

tsukishima, who’d been sitting on his desk doing his homework at his house, put his pen down and furrowed his eyebrows. “what are you talking about?”

“you were right, my eyes are shit snd i got glasses but i hate them. i’m never wearing them.”

tsukishima scoffed as he leaned back in his chair. “they can’t be that bad. show me.”

“no. they’re ugly.”

“well, i can’t judge if i don’t see them.”

“you’ll never see them. i don’t need your judgement, too!”

tsukishima took his phone off his ear and tired to switch the call to a video call, which y/n immediately rejected. “don’t even try! i’m refusing to wear them.”

“i’m sure you look fine, dumbass,” tsukishima tried to reassure her. he touched his own glasses for a moment. “can you at least see better with them?”

“. . . yes, i can. the doctors said i should wear them all the time if possible so i don’t strain my eyes further, but i don’t want to.”

“you’re being dramatic, it really can’t be that bad.”

“dramatic?” y/n scoffed in the other side. “fuck off. i’m going to go and self-pity since my boyfriend won’t allow me to.”

before tsukishima could say anything the call ended. he sighed and got up, grabbing his wallet and keys on the way.

y/n, on the other hand, sat on her desk. a small mirror faced her as she held her brand new glasses — those ugly little things. she didn’t want to put them on, not again. those had looked good in the store but now they made her face look so odd; she hated it. she was never—

a knock. y/n stilled in her seat. “you in there?”

his voice. “how did you get here?”

“your mom let me in. can i come in?”

y/n sighed. “fine.”

she heard the door open, then close. she heard tsukishima’s footsteps approaching her, then saw from the corner of her eye as he placed a plastic bag on the desk, right next to her elbow.

“i got you something from the store.” tsukishima’s long finger pointed at the glasses still in y/n’s hand. “so that’s them?”

“yup.”

tsukishima took a moment, his eyes stuck on the glasses. “it’s just some average glasses. that you need to see.”

“yes, i’m aware. thank you.”

tsukishima sighed. “come on, put them on.”

“no.”

“you know, you’ll have to wear them eventually. if you don’t, you’ll strain your eyes more and your eye sight is gonna get worse and it’ll start to sting, and—“

“okay, okay! i get it,” y/n cut him off, grumbling as she opened the frames. “why do you always have to be so reasonable?”

normally, he would’ve teased her further, but seeing as she was finally feeling comfortable enough to put on her glasses, he didn’t want to ruin it for her. he was an asshole, but not that big.

the glasses were on and y/n stood up, looking at him. “there they are, ugly as hell. you happy?”

“do you see with them?”

y/n was taken aback. that wasn’t the response she was expecting. “huh? i mean, i guess so.”

“yeah? i see with my glasses, too.” tsukishima took a step closer. he didn’t touch her, keeping his hands on his hips. “and you know what i see with them? i see you, just as i’d see you every day, and you look as pretty as usual. if anything, in my eyes you look better, knowing your blind ass can finally see.”

y/n wasn’t sure if she wanted to punch him or kiss him.

“why can’t you ever compliment me normally?”

“that’s not what you signed up for.”

still, his words stuck with her. he’d helped, in his weird, tsukishima-esque way.

[wonryllis]

𖹭ㅤI'M A MTHRFCKIN STARBOY! ( enhypen as badboys )

────𝖺𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆.

﹙NOTES.﹚ enhypen as ur baddie-stars. 𖥔 ݁ fluff. fem!reader. 827wc. LIB?

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 secretly picks you up at midnight and takes you to his illegal street race matches every week. "stay right here pretty, i'll win this for you," he brags, guiding you through the crowd of onlookers to the very front where he takes off his leather jacket and puts it on you,"don't want you getting cold" before he's rushing to his motorbike at the start line. quite literally winning it by a huge gap, wanting to impress you so bad even though he knows he's already bagged you bad enough. "i could win anything for you," his lips finding yours immediately after taking off his helmet and dropping it without a care.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆 brings you to his underground boxing space to teach you self defense, taking the excuse of touching you everywhere. "here, here, and here," he says pointing to the points you should aim to attack. touching from your neck in a chokehold and dragging it down to just above your pantline. when you reach forward to try and tackle him, he's swiftly grabbing you by the waist and pinning you to the floor. hands cupping your wrists and lips hovering over yours, lightly brushing against,"you need to try harder angel," he moves again now bringing his lips to your lips, nibbling on your earlobe,"come for my match tomorrow?"

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐔𝐍 sneaks into your room late at night, hiding from your parents because they just don't like him at all. "jake what are you doing!" you whisper shout, opening your window and seeing him climbing up after getting his 'coming over' text. "just wanted to see my doll's face and hear her pretty voice," he winks, jumping over the window frame and immediately pulling you against him by your waist. his lips travel from on top of your closed eyes to your lips, to your jawline down to your collarbone and then back to your lips as he walks back to your bed. sitting down on the edge and pulling you over his lap,"you're so addicting,"

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 shows up unannounced to your university to take you back home, leaning against his bike as he waits for you, a stone cold look. "sunghoon?" he's smiling as soon as he sees you, moving forward to take your bag from you. "here," the little necklace you accidentally left with him last time, the one he hates so much because it's from your shitty ass boyfriend. his eyes bore into yours in a look of longing before he leaves a kiss on your forehead,"he doesn't deserve you," putting on the other helmet on you,"i'll make you mine, treat you so much better," stays at your doorstep until you walk inside and shut the door.

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎 pulls you into closed spaces when you fail to answer his texts and calls. "sunoo! what are you doing? what if we get caught!" his hands wrap around your wrists and bring you closer, your closed fists resting against his chest,"you weren't replying, i missed you," he says, his forehead coming to rest atop yours while his eyes stare into yours in the dark,"a lot," hands then moving to your waist as he leans down to bury his face in your neck, taking in the familiar scent of yours he is obsessed with. his fingers reach over to play with a strand of your hair as he leaves little below your ear, only he can get his close to you,"mine,"

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍 hunts down and beats up people who make your life difficult in any way and then shows up at your window to apologize and have his wounds be treated by your tender hands. "baby i'm sorry but i'm not sorry," jungwon grimaces at your fingers touching the little cut on his lower lip. eyes trying to find yours as you keeping staring at his wounds in a silence that disturbs him. "for you i would cross any line in a heartbeat," his voice softens when you meet his gaze teary eyed, explaining to him that it's him going to such lengths that worries you, what if he gets seriously hurt," 's just, love you too much,"

𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈 at your doorstep any time of the day, unbothered about getting caught by literally anyone. puts you on top of any surface to make out. "oh my god riki stop it!" you swear while rushing down the stairs as he keeps on pressing on his loud ass horn until you're out the door and in his sight. you quickly stumble over the lawn to where he stands, legs over each side of his bike. hitting his chest in a scolding as he pulls you closer, "what to do, you make me crazy," his heart thumps heavily against yours in a sync,"haven't seen you all day, let me have a look," moving to cup your face close, breaths mingling in the cold.

TAGLIST ( open. ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @luvyev @pockyyasii @nctislifue

[imaginary-eddie]

Mike rambling on and on about how he doesn't think steve is good enough for him and he told him so and Eddie being like "dammit Wheeler, he hasn't talked to me in a week!?" All screechy as he runs off. And then appears in Steve's yard with a boom box blasting 'You're the One That I Want' from the Grease sound track.

(really Steve didn't give a hoot what lil wheeler had to say because he also said the same thing about Eddie, he just has the flu)

(Everytime Eddie tried to call the house or see him Robin would be there, unhelpfully, rambling out "he can't talk right now!" While trying not to burn the soup and grilled cheese she's making him)

(Eddie went to the kiddos afraid he'd unknowingly triggered alternate dimension trauma, but they were unhelpful so this was his plan b)

(it works, they kiss, and then Steve is left taking care of Eddie when he gets the flu)

(Robin uses her flu to get some attention from Nance)

[moonbils]

soft billie eilish one-shot. best friends, late nights, no forced romance. read it like a memory. ⋆˙⟡

tw: none

Later they would say it was love at first sight,but both knew it was a long road they had to take to get here.

It didn’t start with a spark.

There was no slow-motion glance across a crowded room. No dramatic pause in conversation. No knowing look, no skipped heartbeat.

It started at 4:12 PM, on a Wednesday.

Venice Beach was too loud. Too sunny. Too much. Billie was already sitting on the towel, sunglasses low, iced coffee sweating in her hand. She looked like she wanted to be anywhere else.

You walked up late, holding two iced teas and the kind of tired that sits behind your eyes. You said nothing, handed her one.

She took the wrong one. You didn’t correct her.

- - - - - - - -

“Where’s Finneas?” you asked.

“Over there.” She pointed toward the boardwalk. “On the phone. Pretending to be deep.”

You sat beside her. Close, but not enough to touch.

She looked out at the sea like she was trying to read something hidden in it.

“You ever get tired of being seen?” you asked.

The question fell out of your mouth before you could stop it.

Her face didn’t change. “All the time,” she said. “But not by you.”

- - - - - - - -

She started texting you after that.

Not every day. But enough.

Screenshots. Unfiltered selfies. Voice memos of half-written melodies. Photos of her dog doing nothing in particular.

She never explained why. She didn’t need to.

Sometimes she came over, curled up on your floor like it was easier to exist sideways. Sometimes you watched dumb cartoons. Sometimes she said nothing, and that was fine too.

Billie wasn’t performing when she was with you. And that felt like a secret you were trusted with.

- - - - - - - -

The first time she fell asleep in your bed, it wasn’t romantic.

She was wearing your hoodie, tangled in the blanket wrong, one sock on, one off. Her phone was face down. Her hand was half on your pillow.

You didn’t move her. You just turned off the light and sat on the floor beside her, finishing your tea.

It wasn’t love. Not yet.

But it wasn’t nothing, either.

- - - - - - - -

Months passed.

She blew up a little more. You stayed the same.

She’d disappear for two weeks, then show up at your door with Thai food and no explanation. You never asked. She never offered one.

“Missed you,” was all she’d say.

And that was enough.

- - - - - - - -

One night, you were brushing your teeth when she called.

“What’s your favorite soup?” she asked.

You spat into the sink. “What?”

“Like. If you were sick. Or sad. Or dying. What soup would you want?”

You told her. She hung up.

Three days later, it was waiting on your doorstep. Still warm.

You never brought it up again.

- - - - - - - -

She never said “I love you” the way people expect it.

Not on a rooftop. Not in the middle of a kiss. Not in a song.

She said it like this:

“I feel safe with you.”

And

“You always let me be quiet.”

And once, when she was half-asleep, skin soft with sleep and hair in her face

“You make the noise go away.”

You didn’t say anything back.

You didn’t have to.

- - - - - - - -

Later, they’d say it was love at first sight.

That when Billie Eilish met you, it must’ve been electric. Obvious.

But both of you knew the truth.

It wasn’t sudden. It wasn’t shiny. It didn’t crack the sky open.

It was slow. Earned. Built between text messages and shared fries, quiet glances and mismatched socks. Built in the spaces between fame and fear, in the silences that didn’t need filling.

It was love.

Eventually.