#but I love this trope too much to delete it!!!!!
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crybaby-bkg · 1 year ago
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cw: Bakugou dies but comes back to life, “comes back wrong” trope, implied fighting, angst
When Bakugou died, you’re not sure how you went on living. Grief had taken over your life, sat you in the passenger side while it cruised off the highway into icy waters. And even then, you couldn’t find the energy to drown.
It’s why there’s a sudden uptick of energy when you’re promised to have him back. Some top scientists contact you months after his death, tell you to hurry down to the headquarters labs, come and rejoice for what you’re about to witness. And you’re horrified, to say the least.
“This isn’t my husband.” Are your first words when you walk in, watch the figure on the other side of the glass examine its own hands. It looks like your husband but—but his hair isn’t the right shade of blond all over. His nose bridge had a slight bump after a scuffle with a villain. He had a scar on his hand but—but it never looked like it was to sew a pinky beside the other fingers.
“Is that really my husband?” You ask next in disbelief, slowly entering the room. Bakugou’s head snaps up, his eyes a little brighter than you remember but—they hold so much emotion. So much memory, so much panic, so much guilt.
“I left you.” He mutters, his voice raspy and ragged, and you wonder if it’ll always be like this now. It makes you cry a little harder than it should, but you only embrace each other. He’s cold and his shoulders don’t hold the same mass and his back doesn’t carry the same scars. There’s one, jagged and rough, running down his back, and you think, you think that’s where they slipped a new spine in.
“Welcome back home.” You tell him, weeks after meeting him again, new and not totally—Katsuki. He’s stiff and he doesn’t immediately take off his boots when he enters, and it worries you. Makes you think if you’ve just let a stranger into your home, one that has stolen your dead husbands face. Makes you wonder if he’ll be as loving as Katsuki once was, or if he’ll become your monster looming over you with the guilt of not being able to rest anymore.
“I’ve missed you so much.” You whisper against his mouth one night, a little while after he’s moved back. You don’t know why you lay under him, why you let him nestle himself inside of you, why you let him hold you against his chest. Katsuki always ran his hands over your cheeks and neck whenever he held you like this, but this…man, only holds himself up with his hands resting beside your head. It’s alien, how he looks at you, how his hips are methodically measured with every thrust, how he kisses you every 8 seconds. You wonder if he’s more robot than Frankenstein monster.
“Why did you come back to me like this?” You ask him one night, barricaded in the bathroom away from him. You can hear his sobs on the other side, his pleading to be let in. He tells you he never wanted to come back if he had to be like this, that he’s sorry, please let him in, he misses the warmth of your skin, he’s never been so cold before, he’s never liked the cold.
“Is this considered cheating?” You ask yourself aloud one night, when Bakugou is forced back to the lab when he becomes too…un-Bakugou. To sleep with a man that is your husband in every way but? Your husband has been dead for a year now, and yet you stroke the chin of the man that tries so hard to be him everyday, but fails so miserably at it every time.
“I’ll come back to you right this time.” Bakugou promises to you when he’s strapped down to leave for the lab and before he’s sedated. But you don’t believe him—you never did. Your husband is dead, and this animated corpse has been nothing but a cheap mockery of everything you’ve lost and something you will never truly get back.
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cepheusgalaxy · 10 months ago
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Story Ideas that I need to elabroate eventually
Blonde Knight One: a lady knight swore loyalty to the crown, but after finding how vile and twisted her kingdom was, she swears loyalty to a tricksy witch and becomes her knight. The story follows the adventures of her and two magicians: a transgender sorcerer (she/her) called Adam (short for Adamite) who is very very cheesy and has a boosted ego, and her equally chaotic counterpart, a black trans bard called Eve who is way too flamboyant. The separated may be prime examples of magic casting, but together, they are so unhinged the knight's job is usually to keep them from getting them expelles from whatever kingdom they have a mission on. Based on random ideas from my daily life that somehow fit together, and Vibes.
Venera and [unnamed]: Venera is a russian lved in paranormal adventures with this nonbinary guy (clove motif) that has a more open and dumbass personality than him. They are a great contrast, but they work well together. Based on a design challenge.
The Chosen One: Victor is a chosen one hero from a prophecy in a fantasy world; he knows what his duty is, and hed be happy to comply, if there wasnt so much paperwork. Victor is supposed to slay The Dragon, but each time he gets close, he has to sign so much stuff and get so many appointments before getting close to actually killing it that hes in that for ages. Gabriel, on a fairly distant country, is a magician (he has his diplome) that uses his time helping passerbys and prophecy heroes that criss his path. He is quite poor and had a hard time paying for his magic scholarship, unlike his friend Toriel, a way wealthier magician. One day, Victor stumbles upon the bar where Gabriel usually hangs out, and after they meet, the three of them go in a mission to try and slay the dragon that has been terrorizing their kingdom for ages.
New one: Two freed slaves, a guard dog and a guy who was forced to do sex services, go on a journey together and the Romantic finds out he is actually a chosen one. And can fuel the power of The Seven Deadly Sins, that are the basis of the magic system on this world. Neither the guard dog nor the romantic have pleasant personalities, but now they'll have to save the world ^v^
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fragmentedblade · 1 year ago
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At this point I don't care about the hot swordsman with Orphic themes at all. I only care about the heathcliffean master craftsman
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physalian · 7 months ago
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How to Make Your Writing Less Stiff Part 3
Crazy how one impulsive post has quickly outshined every other post I have made on this blog. Anyway here’s more to consider. Once again, I am recirculating tried-and-true writing advice that shouldn’t have to compromise your author voice and isn’t always applicable when the narrative demands otherwise.
Part 1
Part 2
1. Eliminating to-be verbs (passive voice)
Am/is/are/was/were are another type of filler that doesn’t add anything to your sentences.
There were fireworks in the sky tonight. /// Fireworks glittered in the sky tonight.
My cat was chirping at the lights on the ceiling. /// My cat chirped at the lights on the ceiling.
She was standing /// She stood
He was running /// He ran
Also applicable in present tense, of which I’ve been stuck writing lately.
There are two fish-net goals on either end of the improvised field. /// Two fish-net goals mark either end of the improvised field.
For once, it’s a cloudless night. /// For once, the stars shine clear.
Sometimes the sentence needs a little finagling to remove the bad verb and sometimes you can let a couple remain if it sounds better with the cadence or syntax. Generally, they’re not necessary and you won’t realize how strange it looks until you go back and delete them (it also helps shave off your word count).
Sometimes the to-be verb is necessary. You're writing in past-tense and must convey that.
He was running out of time does not have the same meaning as He ran out of time, and are not interchangeable. You'd have to change the entire sentence to something probably a lot wordier to escape the 'was'. To-be verbs are not the end of the world.
2. Putting character descriptors in the wrong place
I made a post already about motivated exposition, specifically about character descriptions and the mirror trope, saying character details in the wrong place can look odd and screw with the flow of the paragraph, especially if you throw in too many.
She ties her long, curly, brown tresses up in a messy bun. /// She ties her curls up in a messy brown bun. (bonus alliteration too)
Generally, I see this most often with hair, a terrible rule of threes. Eyes less so, but eyes have their own issue. Eye color gets repeated at an exhausting frequency. Whatever you have in your manuscript, you could probably delete 30-40% of the reminders that the love interest has baby blues and readers would be happy, especially if you use the same metaphor over and over again, like gemstones.
He rolled his bright, emerald eyes. /// He rolled his eyes, a vibrant green in the lamplight.
To me, one reads like you want to get the character description out as fast as possible, so the hand of the author comes in to wave and stop the story to give you the details. Fixing it, my way or another way, stands out less as exposition, which is what character descriptions boil down to—something the audience needs to know to appreciate and/or understand the story.
3. Lacking flow between sentences
Much like sentences that are all about the same length with little variety in syntax, sentences that follow each other like a grocery list or instruction manual instead of a proper narrative are difficult to find gripping.
Jack gets out a stock pot from the cupboard. He fills it with the tap and sets it on the stove. Then, he grabs russet potatoes and butter from the fridge. He leaves the butter out to soften, and sets the pot to boil. He then adds salt to the water.
From the cupboard, Jack drags a hefty stockpot. He fills it with the tap, adds salt to taste, and sets it on the stove.
Russet potatoes or yukon gold? Jack drums his fingers on the fridge door in thought. Russet���that’s what the recipe calls for. He tosses the bag on the counter and the butter beside it to soften.
This is just one version of a possible edit to the first paragraph, not the end-all, be-all perfect reconstruction. It’s not just about having transitions, like ‘then’, it’s about how one sentence flows into the next, and you can accomplish better flow in many different ways.
4. Getting too specific with movement.
I don’t see this super often, but when it happens, it tends to be pretty bad. I think it happens because writers feel the need to overcompensate and over-clarify on what’s happening. Remember: The more specific you get, the more your readers are going to wonder what’s so important about these details. This is fiction, so every detail matters.
A ridiculous example:
Jack walks over to his closet. He kneels down at the shoe rack and tugs his running shoes free. He walks back to his desk chair, sits down, and ties the laces.
Unless tying his shoes is a monumental achievement for this character, all readers would need is:
Jack shoves on his running shoes.
*quick note: Do not add "down" after the following: Kneels, stoops, crouches, squats. The "down" is already implied in the verb.
This also happens with multiple movements in succession.
Beth enters the room and steps on her shoelace, nearly causing her to trip. She kneels and ties her shoes. She stands upright and keeps moving.
Or
Beth walks in and nearly trips over her shoelace. She sighs, reties it, and keeps moving.
Even then, unless Beth is a chronically clumsy character or this near-trip is a side effect of her being late or tired (i.e. meaningful), tripping over a shoelace is kind of boring if it does nothing for her character. Miles Morales’ untied shoelaces are thematically part of his story.
Sometimes, over-describing a character’s movement is meant to show how nervous they are—overthinking everything they’re doing, second-guessing themselves ad nauseam. Or they’re autistic coded and this is how this character normally thinks as deeply methodical. Or, you’re trying to emphasize some mundanity about their life and doing it on purpose.
If you’re not writing something where the extra details service the character or the story at large, consider trimming it.
These are *suggestions* and writing is highly subjective. Hope this helps!
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sungbeams · 11 days ago
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MIDNIGHT IN MILAN — lhs
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they say love makes you do stupid things...surely fucking your boyfriend in the bathroom at the prada after party when your relationship isn't even public and neither of you can afford a dating scandal isn't that stupid, right?
⟡ ┆ pairing. lee heeseung x fem!reader
⟡ ┆ genre and tropes. MDNI 18+ ONLY, smut, established relationship, idol AU (both heeseung and yn)
⟡ ┆ warnings. semi-public sex, unprotected sex, mirror sex, mild choking, creampie, fingering, tiniest hint of degradation (he calls her a slut like once), one singular spank, some hair pulling, not really any aftercare
⟡ ┆ word count. 6.4k
⟡ ┆ note. i know the hype around tipsy hee already died down but i simply couldn't let this go. started writing it literally the same day the pictures dropped, then got hit with a massive writers block and only recently managed to finish this. biggest thanks to @jayparked who listened to me complain about this fic and contemplate just deleting it all. this fic wouldn't be here without her :(
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"Fuck, Hee—" your broken moans echo off the dark walls around you as you throw your head back at the feeling of his dick sliding in and out of you, hitting that perfect spot that has your hips chasing after his, "feels so good. Don't stop, please don't stop."
"Not planning to, baby," Heeseung grunts out his reply, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulls you back to meet his sharp thrusts, sending shockwaves up your spine all the way to your head, making you feel woozy at the intense pleasure overwhelming your senses.
Your gazes meet in the mirror in front of you, your arms shaking as you try to hold yourself up. One of his hands moves up your body, his fingers wrapping around your throat and applying slight pressure to it to cut off the needy whines spilling from your mouth. Your eyes roll back at the sensation, head falling forward and your body crashing into the counter beneath you, your arms too weak to hold yourself up anymore. 
"That's my good girl, so desperate for my cock, huh?" Heeseung smirks to himself, continuing to roll his hips into yours. He wants to tug on your hair, hold you in place so he can look at your fucked-out face, but he knows he needs to be careful not to wreck you too much, not to leave any marks — or at least none that leave no doubt as to what you're doing here.
Truly, the two of you should be ashamed about what you're doing, but neither of you can bring yourself to care — not in the slightest. Right now, the only thing you're concerned about is Heeseung's cock repeatedly drilling past your folds into your soaked heat, how snug your walls feel around him, hugging him, molding to his shape with each snap of his hips. Maybe come tomorrow when you wake up and you think back to this moment, you'll bury your head in your hands and wonder what drove you to make such stupid, such careless decisions. 
After all, you are currently having sex with your boyfriend in a private powder room at an afterparty you had been invited to as brand ambassadors. You should be professional. Mingling with people, maybe having a drink, getting some of your pictures taken, but no, instead you're getting your guts rearranged by a man barely anyone knows is your boyfriend.
In your defense, the past few days had been beyond stressful, and you hadn’t been able to get any alone time with Heeseung in what feels like forever. Not during the busy days ahead of your flight to Italy, not during the 14-hour plane ride from Seoul to Milan for Fashion Week, and certainly not during all the schedules you had the past two days. Moments of privacy had been sparse, reduced to rare bathroom breaks since you shared a hotel room with one of the other members of your group.
----
Stepping out of the van to attend the afterparty, you force an effortless smile onto your face, repeatedly reminding yourself that this was your last schedule of the night and then you'd get a night of sleep just to hop onto another seemingly everlasting flight back home where you’ll be greeted with at least a few days without any public appearances. So you push yourself to ignore the ache in your feet from wearing heels all day, ignoring the throbbing in your head from the lack of sleep, food, and water, which only intensifies from the flurry of flashing cameras greeting you, or the pinch in your lower back from where you assume a safety pin must've come loose.
Hours pass by in the blink of an eye, pictures being taken with either your fellow group members or other celebrities and influencers also attending the party; a drink gets pushed into your hands, and the alcohol momentarily numbs your body and washes the pain away, allowing your shoulders to relax and your breaths to deepen as you take in your surroundings. Lo and behold, a few feet away from where you are, you find him standing: Heeseung. Hands in his pockets as he's talking to some unidentifiable celebrity in front of him.
Almost as if he feels your gaze on him, he glances away from the man before him, your eyes meeting for a brief moment. You take an involuntary step forward, like he's drawing you right in, before your manager steps in your line of sight, "They want a picture of you girls with Enhypen, something about wanting the two K-Pop groups attending in one picture together."
You nod your head at her words, trying to steal one last look at your boyfriend, only to see him walking right in your direction, together with Sunoo and Jungwon trailing after him, their manager leading them right to where you're walking to.
A staff member pushes and pulls you all into position, telling you where to stand and how to pose, and by some sort of miracle you end up right next to your boyfriend. Your manager shoots you a quick look, and you teasingly roll your eyes at her as she's silently warning you to not make your relationship too obvious, seeing as your company has been pretty outspoken about not wanting the public to know about what was going on between Heeseung and you.
While the photographers look over their pictures, trying to decide if they need more or if they're satisfied with what they got, you lean slightly to your right, close enough so the man next to you would be able to hear your hushed whispers, "You know...I heard some people talking about there being private restrooms at this venue. Just thought I'd mention it in case you'd like a moment alone to take a bit of a breather from all the socializing."
"Oh? Is that so?" you can hear the slight smile in the low rumble of his voice as he leans down, masking his closeness by adjusting the leg of his pants, "Guess I'll have to check them out in a bit then."
"Alright, everyone, we'll take a few more pictures and then you can go back to the party," one of the photographers interrupts your conversation, drawing all attention back to the front. You position yourself slightly to the left again, creating more space between your boyfriend and you to avoid angering your managers.
A few more pictures taken, and you're finally released. Almost instantly, you excuse yourself from your group, beelining towards the aforementioned restrooms, making sure not to draw any attention to yourself despite your heart beating rapidly in your chest at the thought of some alone time with your boyfriend, sending blood rushing through your ears, loud enough to drown out the quick click-clacks of your heels against the tiled floor underneath you.
The anticipation is killing you as you're waiting for Heeseung to show up, staring at your phone just to see the status of your message to him with the details of exactly where you are change from 'delivered' to 'seen' right in front of your eyes. Minutes feel like hours as you tap your foot nervously against the marble floor beneath your feet, trying your best to ignore your throbbing pussy, your folds covered in your slick and clinging onto your underwear already — all just because of the mere thought of what he would do to you within these four walls.
You glance at your phone again when three rapid knocks followed by two more taps against the wooden door next to you startle you. Opening the door with a smile on your lips, you lean out slightly, your head turning left and right to scan the hallway, "Are you sure no one followed you?"
Wordlessly he nudges you back inside and closes the door behind you. His lips are on yours in an instant, moving with familiar desperation as he pushes you against the closed door. His hands are all over you, grasping onto your hips, pulling them flush against him and allowing you to feel the growing bulge in his pants press against your lower abdomen. Your heart beats erratically in your chest — the sound almost drowning out the soft clicking of the lock turning behind your back — hands scrambling to find something to hold onto as lust takes over you, clouding your mind. His lips work against yours in a beautiful frenzy, rushed but still taking his time, nipping at your lower lip, entangling his tongue with yours in a passionate dance that wordlessly tells you everything you need to know.
Your body relaxes right against his, all tension melting away with each movement, the space between you charged with tension, thick and hot, as Heeseung pulls away. 
"Don't worry, we're all alone, baby," he breathes against your lips as his mouth trails down to your neck, eagerly covering your skin in wet kisses as your hands reach up to tangle themselves in his hair. 
The tiny voice in a deep, dark corner of your mind tells you not to mess it up, not to leave a single trace for people to suspect what the two of you left the party for, to avoid any scandal at all costs. But your need to be as close as possible to your boyfriend overrides any and all logic left inside you, so you ignore it, pulling him closer to you instead and letting him graze your skin wherever he desires. Contrary to you, he seems to still have some care for the consequences of your escapades, seeing as he moves down the collar of your dress to continue the path of his lips there, sucking and softly biting the supple flesh, leaving marks easily hidden. 
With his hand pressing against the small of your back, he pulls you away from the door, and the two of you stumble over towards the massive mirror situated behind the vanity of the powder room. Your ass digs into the cold marble of the counter as he crowds you against it, fingers holding your hips in a bruising grip — enough to almost hurt, the sensation just the right mix of pain and pleasure to pull a whimpered plea from your lips — before moving lower. His hands massaging your round cheeks has you biting your lip, whining as he lifts you up, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist just to feel his hard cock straining against his pants and press right into where you need him the most.
"Hee...please—" you cut yourself off with a moan, louder than you had anticipated, and he quietly shushes you in response.
“Shh, baby, we don't wanna get caught now, do we?"
His lips form into a smirk against your skin as you shake your head with a slight pout on your lips. You really don’t want to get caught; you don't want to even think about what it would mean for both of you if people found out about what the two of you are up to in here, but your mind is begging, screaming at you to let it all out, let him know how good he's making you feel.
"You can be loud in the hotel; how about that, sweetheart?”
Oh, screw him. Getting you worked up over the possibilities the future holds for you before even having you now.
Your reply comes in the form of a quiet whimper, mind wandering off to all the possibilities your soundproof hotel room offers. His hands snap you out of it, interrupting your train of thought as they push underneath the bottom hem of your dress, reaching for your soiled underwear to press his fingers right against your cunt, feeling just how absolutely soaked he has gotten you.
"Fuck, baby, what's gotten you this wet, huh?"
"You, Hee—" you exhale, chest heaving up and down as he toys with your clit through the damp cotton of your panties, hips bucking up to chase his fingers, "please...please just fuck me already."
“Love when you beg for me like this. Shit," he groans, eyes closing for a brief moment in a hopeless attempt to compose himself, panting like a dog as he pulls away from you. His hands move over the buckle of his belt in a frenzied rush, fumbling slightly before he manages to undo it, opening his zipper with shaking and twitching fingers. His pants hit the floor with a thud, joined by the black briefs he had been wearing underneath, and he's back on you before you even have a chance to gawk at his cock, thick and heavy, with an angry tip, red and leaking precum already. Despite having seen it multiple times, it still never fails to take your breath away each time you get a chance to look at it. 
His lips crash against yours in an almost bruising kiss, distracting you from his fingers hooking underneath your underwear, pushing it to the side as his other hand finds the base of his cock, pumping himself a few times until he lets his head kiss your entrance. In one fluid movement he pushes himself inside you, both of you letting out synchronized moans as you feel your walls stretching around his girth. His size still surprises you, despite this not being the first time together with him, and even though your cunt is dripping — your slick arousal running down your folds just to pool underneath you — you're still having trouble taking him wholly. His throbbing length fills you up so well you swear you feel him all the way in your belly, gasping as you spread your legs wider to grant him even more access to your wet pussy.
His fingers find their way back down to your clit, no longer obstructed by your underwear, massaging it slowly to help you relax around him. And it works; your body lets go, tension melting from you as you allow him to pull back slightly and thrust back in again, slowly managing to push further and further into you until he fills you to the hilt, his hips making contact with your ass. Pressing your face against his shoulder, you try your best to muffle your moans. Your cunt molds itself around him with each clench of your walls, desperate whines tumbling past your lips as his cock pulsates deep inside of you, as you feel every ridge, every vein, every inch of him. 
"Taking me so well, baby, such a good girl for me. You ready for me to move, sweet girl?"
You nod breathlessly, almost unable to reply to his words at all, mind fuzzy with pleasure. 
And he hasn't even started properly fucking you yet. 
Heeseung presses a gentle kiss against your lips, already swollen and raw, his bruising kisses lingering on them, before he begins to move, hips thrusting into your greedy hole as you cling to him, holding on tightly as best as you can. His forehead falls against yours, labored breaths mixing together and becoming one as you pant into each other's mouths, a needy blend of curses occasionally interrupted by your names tumbling from both of your lips. Your eyes meet his, losing yourself in them as they pull you in further and further. His gaze makes you want to shy away, intense and all-consuming, while at the same time it just as well makes you want to throw your head back, moan his name for everyone in this building to hear just how good he's making you feel.
"So good—fuck, feels so good, Heeseung," you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as you lean further into his embrace, his arms holding you upright as the control of your own body slips further from your grasp.
You feel so full of him, having him exactly how you wanted him all night, his cock brushing right against your cervix with every thrust, his hands all over your body in a desperate frenzy, his mouth latched against yours, tasting you like a starved man. The feeling of having him all over you is overpowering your every sense, hopelessly trying — and failing — to keep your moans at bay, choking back a desperate whine in the back of your throat.
Heeseung can't help but coo slightly at you, your urgency going straight to his ego, as well as his cock, twitching deep within your spongy walls as he moves your legs to wrap them around his waist tighter as he grunts and groans, "Such a dirty thing, letting me fuck you right where anyone could hear us. Shit, gonna let me use your pretty cunt, gonna walk out there with my cum dripping down your legs like the little slut you are?"
Your answer comes in a whined 'yes' as you throw your head back, eyes screwing shut, hot sparks shooting through your whole body. Your legs twitch around his hips, nerves tingling as you start clamping down around him. Lust clouds your judgment, wanting to draw this out as much as you could, not wanting to cum just yet. Staying in here any longer than absolutely necessary wouldn’t be the smartest thing to do; in fact, it would be the complete opposite of smart. With every second the two of you are together in this restroom, his cock pressed deep inside you, brushing against your cervix, you risk the chances of getting caught, of someone hearing you moan out his name.
Fortunately for you, Heeseung seems to have a similar thought process. Slowly, his thrusts come to a halt, and he pulls out of you. The emptiness he leaves behind rips a pitiful whine from you, and he shushes you by pressing his lips against yours in a quick, gentle kiss before moving you off the counter and turning you around. You don't mind him manhandling you — you enjoy it even — his touches soft but forceful as he makes your back collide with his chest, your eyes meeting in the big mirror in front of you.
"Be a good girl and bend over for me."
His breath is hot against your ear, voice low and drenched with desire oozing off it thick like honey as you feel his cock dig into the flesh of your ass, the combined sensations sending shivers down your spine. His fingers graze your thighs as he lifts the bottom of your dress above your ass, letting it pool around your hips. Slowly, he pulls your underwear down your legs, his blunt nails scraping your burning skin, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake. The ruined cotton falls to the tiled floor beneath your feet, transparent and sticky with your arousal, as you lean your torso onto the counter, holding yourself up with your shaking arms. You step out of them, blindly kicking them to the side to allow yourself more freedom to move.
Impatiently, you look over your shoulder, wiggling your ass to silently urge him to hurry up and get back to fucking you again. He can't resist the temptation, even if he would’ve attempted to try, running his hand over your bare ass, caressing your soft, round globes before landing a slap against your smooth skin — not a particularly harsh or painful one, not nearly as forceful as you know he’s capable of, but hard enough to send a wave of electricity through your body, a muffled sob falling from your lips at the sensation — before placing them back on your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh with a bruising grip.
Not wasting any more time, he slides right back inside you. The different angle pulls a moan from you, mixing with the low groan falling from Heeseung's mouth as your warm pussy embraces his cock. One of his hands presses against your back, pinning your front against the cold marble counter underneath you, your arms shaking as you scramble to find something to hold onto. The sounds tumbling past his lips make you clench around his length, the low rumble of his groans bouncing off the walls surrounding you, his chest heaving up and down with each erratic roll of his hips turning you into a panting mess as he repeatedly hits that one sensitive spot within you. You try your best to hold eye contact with him through the mirror, wanting nothing more than to see the pleasure clearly written on his face right as you cum, but you simply cannot. 
Your head falls forward, eyes screwing shut as you let pleasure take over you — your mind, your body, all of your senses.
His hand on your shoulder snaps you out of your stupor, looking up briefly just to see his eyes trained right on where you're connected, watching his dick disappear within your creamy hole again and again, laser-focused as if he was in a trance. He pulls you back to him with each of his thrusts, making you meet him with even more force. You let out a fervent moan at the sensation, your sobs joining the squelching sound of wet skin slapping against skin reverberating around the room. He drives inside you at a merciless pace, each thrust harder than the last one, making your entire body jolt at the force of them.
Heeseung steadies himself, taking his hand off your hip to place on the counter beside you, quickening his pace just slightly as his cock twitches inside of you in response to a particularly pornographic moan of yours.
"Hee-'m so close," you whine, fingers clawing at the marble counter, legs shaking as you feel yourself inching closer and closer to the edge with each drag of his heavy cock inside of you, each snap of his hips against yours.
Heeseung throws his head back at the sensation of your cunt fluttering around him, groaning out as his nails bite into your skin, "Just a bit longer, baby, almost there."
His hand on your shoulder pulls you up, your back colliding with his chest as he continues the merciless pace of his thrusts. The angle at which he keeps fucking into you feels overwhelming, consuming your whole mind and body, yet pleasurable in the best way, and you swear this is the closest you've ever been to heaven before. Your soft whines and pants turn into moans, growing louder with every passing second as you hold onto Heeseung's arm wrapped around your front, pressing you into his chest.
In a moment of clarity, Heeseung notices just how loud your moans have gotten, and as much as it pains him, he knows he quickly has to think of something to silence you unless you want someone to hear you on the outside of the door, resulting in a guaranteed scandal. His solution: his hand wrapped around your throat.
A gasped whimper escapes your mouth as you feel his fingers pressing into your skin, the slight pressure and the weight of his hand against your throat causes your head to spin, his grip not strong enough to hurt or leave marks but send dizzying pleasure right to the depths of your belly. Your breath hitches as your airways constrict, eyes rolling into the back of your head, hand reaching up to hold onto his wrist, making sure his hand stays right where it is, already addicted to the feeling.
The lack of air combined with his relentless thrusts sends you into a frenzy, you feel like you're floating, your limbs tingling, and the world around you blurs, your only focus on Heeseung's gaze that meets yours in the mirror in front of you. He's attentive, watching you closely and making sure you can still breathe — which you can, but the thrill of it all leaves you light-headed and gasping for air — while chasing his own high, pressing his lips into your shoulder to muffle the desperate groans threatening to escape him. 
His grip on your throat tightens, just barely, but enough to cut off your air supply for just a short moment, the rush sending a brand new wave of arousal pooling in the depths of your belly. It feels like he's everywhere — his cock thrusting into you at a merciless pace, his hand wrapped securely around your throat while his arm winds around your waist, pulling you flush against his front, not allowing you to move in the slightest. The intensity of it all is overwhelming your senses, the lack of oxygen making everything sharper, more intense, and you're reveling in the sensation of him pounding into you and sending every nerve in your body buzzing with electric pleasure.
"God, so greedy, couldn't even wait until we were back at the hotel, could you? Just had to have my cock buried deep inside you, can't get enough of it, right, princess?” he grunts lowly as he loosens the grip on your throat, lips pressing into your ear, sending shivers down your spine as your walls clamp down on him while you suck in a desperate gasp of air. 
You're too far gone to respond, your mind clouded with lust, hazy and floating like a cloud on a balmy spring day. All you can do is moan out his name, over and over again, a prayer falling from your lips as he continues thrusting into you, your body pushing against his tight hold of your waist, instinctively moving to meet every snap of his hips. His pace is relentless, Heeseung's thoughts replaced by his need to cum, desperately chasing his own high as he drives you closer and closer to the edge of blissful oblivion. The coil inside you winds impossibly tight, your legs shaking, and if it weren't for your boyfriend holding you upright, you know you'd be a mess of tangled limbs on the cold tiled floor beneath your feet already.
"Cum inside me—fuck, Heeseung, please," you plead breathily, your voice cracking as desperation takes over it, insatiable hunger and need setting your insides on fire.  
"Shit, you want me to cum inside you, yeah?"
His hand rubs over the mound of your ass, soothing your raw skin, sensitive from the slap he delivered to it just mere moments ago. His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips with such force you're sure to find bruises the following day. 
“God, yes, Heeseung!” you cry out, your voice breaking as you feel the knot inside you tighten rapidly, coiling tighter and tighter until it's a white-hot ball of pleasure, ready to explode and set your body alight.
He leans down slightly, his breath tickling your ear as he whispers into your ear, “Be a good girl and cum for me, then you’ll get what you’re asking for. Come on, let go, cum for me, pretty girl."
And just like that you find yourself tipping over the edge, his words breaking the dam inside you and allowing your high to crash over you like a tidal wave, destroying everything in its wake. Pleasure courses through every inch of your body. Every vein, every nerve is set alight and dragged along the powerful and overwhelming waves of your release. Your slick walls clamp down around him like a vice, spasming with every drag of his cock, every brush of his mushroom tip against that one spot that makes stars explode in front of your eyes.
His grip on you loosens enough to allow your upper half to fall forward, catching yourself as you lean on your forearms, left panting and completely undone as you gasp for air, lungs burning and desperate for the sweet taste of oxygen.
Heeseung lets out a strangled moan at the feeling of your dripping cunt tightening around him with even more force, his control slipping as his thrusts become urgent and uncontrollable. He murmurs something underneath his breath, but the rush of your heartbeat echoing in your ears is too loud, drowning out his words, which you assume are mumbled curses of your name.
You lose yourself in the sensation, barely able to form any coherent thoughts as your climax drags on. Each wave drags you deeper and deeper into the current of pleasure, leaving you gasping for air, body twitching and trembling as Heeseung prioritizes his own pleasure, chasing his high with renewed fervor.
Heeseung has never been a selfish lover, always putting your pleasure first, making sure you got to cum at least once before even letting himself think about the possibility of his own release. And maybe that’s part of the thrill for him, repeatedly — intentionally — edging himself until he finally gets what he wants from you, driving himself to the edge of his release over and over again until he is so sensitive he feels like he’s about to explode from just the slightest stimulation.
“Oh fuck, baby—“ he pants with a strained voice, his chest rising and falling rapidly, breaths ragged as he finally allows himself to let go.
With a low guttural groan, Heeseung spills himself inside of you, thick spurts of his warm cum shooting deep into your pulsing cunt, painting your insides white and oozing out of your pussy past his cock. The heat of it sends tiny aftershocks through you; your body shakes as you try to catch your breath, looking into the mirror to see him working himself through the last dredges of his orgasm, jaw slack and body trembling. His face is glistening with sweat, beads of it rolling down his throat and disappearing beneath the neckline of his black shirt.
The sight of him is enough to make you ache with need all over again — his face twisted in pleasure, his eyes dark and unfocused as he watches his cum leak out of your wrecked pussy around his length. You cannot help but think of the folder on his phone, password protected to keep it from the wrong eyes and filled to the brim with pictures you hope never see the light of day: his cum dripping out of your ruined cunt; his cock shoved into your mouth, the lower half of your face messy with a mix of spit, cum, tears, and lipstick; love bites scattered across the skin of your neck and the insides of your thighs like the constellations of the night sky. If you had more time, you’re sure he would add to that growing collection of his, pulling out his phone and snapping multiple pictures until he was satisfied, moving your body into various positions to get the best shot.
Instead of allowing your small daydream to become reality, Heeseung pulls out of you, the sudden emptiness leaving you whimpering and clenching around nothing, the squelching wet sound of him slipping his cock out of you echoing around the room.
He takes another moment to admire the mess he's made of you, leaning back slightly as he watches his cum drip from your drenched hole. He reaches out, letting his fingers run between your folds to collect his cum just to shove it back into you. The sight of your pussy swallowing his digits, your puffy lips embracing them with ease makes his cock twitch again, overstimulated and sensitive but still aching for more.
“Hee—fuck, please,” you’re not even sure what you’re begging for, mind fuzzy and eyes heavy as you watch him through the mirror in front of you. 
You try to drink it all in, wanting this moment embedded in your memory until the end of your days. His dark hair falling into his eyes, focused on the white globs of his cum slipping out of your cunt from around his fingers and running down your thigh. His skin is flushed, sweat beaded on it like little gems glued to reddened satin. It trails down his neck to his chest, revealed by the undone top button of his shirt. 
Heeseung interrupts your little ogling session when he pulls his fingers out slowly, savoring the way you shudder at the loss. 
You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror before he gently turns you around to face him: lips puffy and swollen, eyes watery and completely wrecked despite your combined effort to prevent just this from happening when you were still able to think clearly before your minds were clouded with lust. 
“You did so well, baby,” Heeseung murmurs, his voice thick with a twisted mix of pride and possessiveness as he angles your head so his lips capture yours in a kiss that sends another wave of burning heat through you, igniting the glowing embers lingering deep within you.
His hands slide to your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as he effortlessly lifts you up, your bare thighs resting on the vanity underneath you, the cold marble biting into the raw and tender skin of your ass.
“Made such a mess, can you feel it dripping out of you?” — you nod at his question despite knowing he didn’t ask for you to answer — “Want me to clean you up?”
“Fuck, yes,” you breathe out your reply, eyes glossing over at the intention.
A smirk tugs at the corners of his lips, the unspoken meaning of his words written as clear as day on his face as he slowly lowers himself to the tiled floor beneath his feet, spreading your legs in the process to make room for him to fit between them. He looks up at you from between your spread thighs, leaning forward slightly to press his lips against the insides of them, alternating between nibbling and sucking, sure to leave marks for you to find the next day. A whispered sigh of his name slips past your lips as you throw your head back slightly, his lips ghosting closer and closer to where you need him, to where his cum was still dripping out of you.
His warm breath fans over your wet center, lips just a hair's width away from your pulsing cunt when a gentle knock interrupts you. Heeseung jumps up at the sound, back on his feet in an instant. Your eyes are wide in panic as you meet his gaze before you both turn to the door.
“Shit,” Heeseung mouths as he rushes to grab some paper towels to wipe your mixed juices from between your thighs, hoping that whoever just knocked on the door isn’t aware of the fact that there are currently two people in this bathroom. Two people who certainly could not afford to be caught in a position like you are currently finding yourselves in.
“Heeseung? It’s me, Jay.”
The sigh of relief leaving both of you could almost be described as comical if not for the tension still lingering between you, all the worries and anxieties of a secret relationship almost coming true. Haphazardly, Heeseung pulls his pants up, the undone belt still hanging from his hips as he helps you down from the vanity, hands tugging at the hem of your dress to give you at least a slight bit of decency. He takes one look in the mirror, letting out a small groan before shuffling over to open the door.
The moment the door opens, Jay turns towards both of you, hands buried in the pockets of his pants as he awkwardly shifts from one foot to the other. The redness of his ears confirms your suspicions that he most likely heard more than you would’ve liked, immediately sending your blood rushing to your head, face burning with embarrassment at your friend catching you in such a precarious position. He clears his throat once, trying — and failing — to subtly take in Heeseung’s appearance before shooting a small, albeit flustered, smile at the two of you.
“We gotta leave, like,” he takes a look at his phone to check the time, “right now, actually. I already bought you both some time, told them you weren’t feeling well, and Heeseung wanted to make sure you’re alright. You should…clean yourselves up a bit. Meet us at the entrance in 5?”
You both nod as you watch Jay turn to leave after looking your boyfriend and you up and down once again, shaking his head as he deeply sighs in disappointment — a sound almost eerily similar to one you had heard your parents make several times when you were younger — and you swear as he walks away you can hear him mumble to himself about how you were like two hormonal teenagers, not able to keep it in your pants for even one night.
“Well, guess we gotta get you cleaned up, huh, sweetheart?” 
“Oh no, we don’t!” you jab your finger into his chest as he chuckles at you, “I get cleaned up, and you can go meet up with everyone. It’ll be less suspicious if we don’t show up at the same time.”
Heeseung holds up his hand in fake surrender, a smile still playing with his glossy lips as his eyes roam over your body with one last hungry gaze. Despite the burning ache inside him, the quick kiss he presses against your lips is nothing but sweet and gentle, tenderness quickly replaces the darkness formerly taking over his eyes, “I’ll text you later. Maybe we can manage to sneak you into my hotel room later.”
“Sounds like a plan,” your hands wrap around his arms, giving his biceps one last affectionate squeeze before ushering him out of the bathroom and away to join his group members, giving you a few more precious minutes to clean up, make yourself look somewhat presentable — or at least presentable enough to not have any fans or press question just what exactly happened over the past hour — and find out where you had kicked your underwear in the heat of the moment.
You take a moment to watch your boyfriend walk away, the slight bounce in his step is a dead giveaway for the people who knew him that he just got laid, but lucky for both of you, no one of importance should be able to figure him out and turn this whole thing into an issue for the two of you. Just as you’re about to turn around and assess his damage in the big vanity mirror, Heeseung turns around one more time, eyes twinkling with mischief as he takes you in, watching the way your eyebrows rise on your forehead in a silent question at his sudden halt.
“Oh, and baby?” you nod your head in response, “Make sure to wipe the lipstick from your chin. We wouldn’t want anyone to find out what a greedy slut you are for me, would we now?”
© sungbeams — all rights reserved. i do not give permission to copy, repost, modify or translate my works.
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ssahotchnerr · 8 days ago
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baby fever - aaron hotchner x reader
request: Hi! I love the whole married trope with hotch AND I HAD AN EPIPHANY! I can just imagine reader and Aaron being married for a few months before JJ gives birth again and Aaron gets baby fever 😭 Like he would start hinting at wanting another baby and would eventually ask you everyday for a baby
reposting because i accidentally deleted the original :( cw; fem!reader, established relationship, mentions of pregnancy, some suggestiveness, fluff and aaron being soo ❤️‍🔥🥰
It was finally your turn to hold Michael.
You've been patiently waiting all night, Aaron could practically feel the anticipation radiating off you. It took a while, as he had plenty of other aunts and uncles. And much to your credit, you managed to resist the urge to hover too closely to whoever was holding him at the moment.
You were sat comfortably on the couch with Jack nestled right beside you, his small body pressed close with barely an inch to spare.
From where he was discretely observing across the room, Aaron couldn’t quite make out the words you were saying. However, he noticed the way your voice softened, your head soon tilting in an encouraging nod.
Jack, with a look of quiet concentration, gently offered a finger to Michael. Without hesitation his tiny hand clasped onto it, and Jack’s face pulled into one of content, his eyes in awe at the connection.
Aaron's mind beelined in one direction at the sight, and his heart produced an extreme sense of deja vu; the same thrilling feeling and unfathomable love when Jack was born.
This, but with a baby of your own.
For months now, he's hinted at wanting another baby. It started with him sharing updates on JJ's pregnancy (which contributed to his want as a whole). It then led into him mentioning if you had a baby now, the age gap between the little one and Jack would be perfect. He brought up potential baby names, 'Eleanor would be a cute name for a girl, don't you think?' He even told you once out of the blue he was researching car seats, to ensure you had the safest one when the time came.
Until finally he just straight up asked you, Can we have a baby? and while you wholeheartedly shared the enthusiasm and wanted one as badly as he did, it got put on the back burner. Between both your jobs and the natural busyness of life, the timing was never right.
But now, the urge was too strong to continue to let simmer.
A while later, you were traveling down the hallway - looking for him actually - when Aaron found your hand out of nowhere, swiftly tugging you into the bathroom hidden away from everyone else. The door snapped shut behind you.
"There you are. I was just-"
He interrupted you with a kiss. An eager, as if his life depended on it type of kiss. His hands found the small of your back, pulling your body against his. It got heated rather quickly, your shared passion intertwining together.
Eventually you let out a soft laugh against his lips, pulling back slightly to look up at him. "What was that for?"
"I was thinking," You nodded, urging him to continue. Aaron's brown eyes were locked onto yours, a quiet intensity within them that was also the gentlest you've ever seen. "A lot, you know. And I think we should try for a baby."
Your eyes widened, "Now?"
"No, not now," Aaron laughed which you shared, his gaze shooting to the door momentarily, where the muffled voices of the team drifted from outside. "But yeah... now. I think the time's right. We've been married a while, work is slowing down," He paused for a moment, almost humorously, "As much as it can. But sweetheart, and if you're on board that is, I don't think I can wait any longer."
A baby. A new chapter. Growing your family - your heart fluttered at the thought. And in Aaron's face, you saw certainty, longing, excitement.
"And can you imagine?" His hands grabbed yours, "A baby who's the perfect combination of me and you. My dark eyebrows furrowing across their tiny forehead. A baby with your eyes and heart. Jack as a big brother. Can you think of anything more perfect?"
An obvious gleam was present in your eyes, the ends of your lips raising in a relaxed smile. You didn't need convincing, "Okay."
Aaron fell silent for a moment, as if he expected to do some convincing, despite the knowledge of your want being no different than his.
"Really?" He asked, his voice soft but laced with an earnestness that made your heart melt.
You grinned, pressing your lips against his in a kiss. He attempted to deepen it, to prolong it again, but you had forced yourself away. "You're right, I can't imagine anything more perfect. I want as many babies as we can possibly handle, as soon as possible. But I just know, she'll have your eyes. I'm sure of it."
"So we're trying." His smile took on a newfound charm, one both  playful and irresistibly endearing. Also, a bit on the smirky side, as the task to create a baby was certainly enjoyable.
"We're trying." You confirmed with a small smirk of your own, kissing him once more. Your hands traveled up his chest, to his shoulders, and back around, savoring the feeling of him.
Aaron sighed out against your mouth, hot and heavily. "Think we could persuade anyone to watch Jack tonight? So we can get started?"
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frownyalfred · 2 months ago
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Why is it so hard to find ppl that actually understand bruce? I am tired of either finding ppl that see him as an abuser or others that only love wfa version of him I am really tired of this like really I can't even join a Fandom without getting my favorite character not getting mischaracterized left and right 😔
I'm going to rant a little bit here, and I apologize in advance. This isn't really directed at you. But I'm kind of tired of this flavor of ask. I get it a lot -- half of these asks are praising me for having a "good" interpretation of canon, and the other half are blasting me for being too "fanon" and bending too much to fandom tropes in my posts and writing. And of course the nonstop WFA hatred in my inbox is tiring.
Be the change you want to see in the world. If you don't like what the fandom is doing to your blorbo, write him your way. But sitting at the edge of the playpen complaining about how someone else is playing with their toys isn't useful. And it's really getting annoying to me, as a content creator.
I'm also tired of the superiority some canon-adherents have over those who write/draw more fanon tropes. So many of you are SO bitter over the idea that fandom is "ruining" Bruce or your other Batfamily blorbo because how DARE they write your blorbo in that way that is so OOC. How DARE they! And yet, you sit on the sidelines and create bitchy tumblr posts about how those fandom participants are stupid, or ill-informed, or simply don't have the higher thinking ability to understand your blorbo like you do.
And yet. You don't write Bruce the way you "enjoy." You don't create content or share posts or promote those canon characteristics you so highly value. Instead, you write posts complaining about the others in this fandom and deride them for being stupid like adhering to canon strictly somehow makes you better than anyone else. You mock their acceptance of fanon tropes as canon as if there is required reading in this fandom, entirely dismissing the idea that the line between DC fanon/canon is confusing as hell on a good day, and ignoring that the natural progression of engaging in fandom is finding out -- sometimes on your own timeline -- what actually happened in canon. Especially when canon is so vast.
And guess what? At the end of the day, we are all on the fandom website(s). You're still reading fanfiction at the end of the day. Canon or fanon or some blend of the in-between, you are still a fan participating in fandom content in some way or another. And we are all equal in that respect.
We are all here to enjoy these characters. Fanfiction is a medium that allows us to further explore canon, yes, But it is also a way to explore the OOC, the what-if's, the out of character but fandom-fave ideas and tropes people want. The fact that OTHER people enjoy those things should never impact your enjoyment of fandom.
If you cannot handle someone else playing with the same toys as you, but playing with them in a way you don't like, you need to go back to preschool. And if someone won't give you your toy back, find another one. Write the story. Create the post. Build your own engagement from the ground up, finding likeminded people if you can. They are definitely on here.
But I get the impression that when people complain about fanon "ruining" fandom, what they're actually saying is "I'm upset that canon content isn't as popular as fanon content." And that, I can't help you with. We can't always change what other people love or want to engage with.
I'm sorry that this rant is blunt, but it's been simmering inside me for a while. I'm really tired of getting and deleting this ask 15 times a day. You will not find much sympathy on this blog for canon purism and the derision of fanon/fandom, and for that I apologize. But it's the truth.
I enjoy consuming content about both "fanon" and canon Bruce. I like the contrast and complexities. But I have seriously had to stop following a ton of blogs in the last year who don't create "canon" content anymore and instead spend their time complaining about other people in the fandom who are just enjoying themselves and creating their own content. It's incredibly disheartening and frustrating.
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captainreecejames · 4 months ago
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Tale As Old As Time || My Ex is a Footballer OB38 Edition
links [masterlist] [my ex series masterlist]
summary you have a best friend and a boyfriend, too bad you're in love with the wrong one
pairings ex!cole palmer x reader, ollie bearman x reader
warnings cursing, hate to yn,
notes this was born because i realized that I hadn't written the classic friends to lover trope so here you guys go! also the next one will be george because I've had that one in the drafts forEVER so I want to get it out there for everyone!
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july 2023
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september 2023
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liked by kimiantonelli, olliebearman and others
ynusername Ollie that's 3 wins this season!!! I'm so freaking proud of you but here's a reminder of what you looked like to keep you level headed
olliebearman did you really need to post that last one? ↳ ynusername yes bearboy
kimiantonelli 😃😃 ↳ ynusername be careful kimi
username1 ugh, i love their friendship! ↳ username2 yeah... friendship ↳ username1 she's got a boyfriend that's not Ollie ↳ username2 doesn't mean she isn't in love with ollie and playing with the new guys feelings
December 2023
ynusername posted a story -------
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ynusername posted ------
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liked by olliebearman, bsfinstagram and others
ynusername dates out with you
username11 so she goes out with ollie the night before and now her man... yn they could never make me like you ↳ username12 for real!!! that was clearly a date with ollie last night so she had to post with this mystery man
olliebearman does cole let you win like me? ↳ colepalmer nah mate ↳ colepalmer oh fuck ↳ olliebearman oh fuck ↳ ynusername you both are idiots
username13 COLE PALMER IS DATING YN LN????? ↳ username14 did not have that on my bingo card for 2023 ↳ username13 seriously does she go around collecting sports prodigies?
username15 wait, ollie lets her win in chess? (pouty face) ↳ username16 ollie bearman plays chess????? ↳ olliebearman only with yn ↳ ynusername and contrary to popular belief he only let me win once
username17 not ollie exposing yn and cole ↳ username18 and cole had to really back it up by commenting ↳ username17 if Ollie had just deleted his comment none of this would have happened and we'd still be speculating
january 2024
ynusername posted a story -----
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march 2024
ynusername posted -------
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liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc and others
ynusername HOLY FUCKING SHIT YOUVE JUST HAD YOURR FIRAT FORMULA ONE RACE AND YOU SCORED POINTS! I'm so proud of you and this whirlwind of a weekend. Nowhere I'd rather be than supporting you here.
username20 oH MY GOD YN JUST ADMIT YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH HIM!! ↳ username21 that hand holding picture???? that is not just best friends i am sorry
olliebearman thank you so much for flying out on such short notice YN! ↳ ynusername you know i had to when you're dad called me!
charles_leclerc congrats again to ollie ↳ ynusername charles!! you were amazing as well
carlossainz55 where's my appreciation? ↳ ynusername thank you carlos for getting appendicitis and then needing it removed so ollie could make his f1 debut and also thank you for showing him around ↳ carlossainz55 you're welcome!
kimiantonelli well done to Ollie, and you yn for surviving that race ↳ ynusername it was hard but I had david with me to help ↳ kimiantonelli ahhh, love david
username22 she really flew out on saturday to be there? yn please
username23 need cole palmer to realize that she really doesn't care about him
June and July 2024
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ynusername posted----
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liked by premaracing, scuderiaferrari and others
ynusername monza!!!!! featuring some race winners and prema racing or one direction, couldn't be sure
username30 not yn being online enough to know about one direction prema racing>>>> ↳ ynusername i sent that tweet to ollie, it makes me laugh every time
username31 the hand heart??? yn we know what you are ↳ username32 yeah but also she loves charles so idc she can do no wrong now
username33 at least we know that her and cole aren't together anymore
username34 yn magnussen got a race ban!!! is ollie gonna take his seat? ↳ ynusername oh kmags, the fia is just silencing him cause he's too good
ynusername posted----
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liked by haasf1team, nicohulkenberg and others
ynusername ollie once again I'm so proud of you! and back in the points as well! couldn't be prouder to call you my best friend and boyfriend
username40 WHAT THE FUCK WE GOT A OLLIEYN CONFIRMATION??
ynusername also you raced alongside lewis hamilton can you get me an autograph? username41 you know what?? she's part of cultLH and I'm gonna defend her forever now
ynusername shout out to kmags for the race ban but I'm gonna miss you next year
username42 OLLIE ACKNOWLEDGE YOUR GIRLFRIEND!!! olliebearman
olliebearman i love you yn, and I'll get you that lewis hat don't worry ynusername best fucking boyfriend ever
francolapinto LEWIS ↳ ynusername LEWIS!!!!! ↳ olliebearman LEWIS!!!!!!!!! ↳ username43 your honor i love them all
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screampied · 1 year ago
Note
heyyo ex!Toji who just can’t forget you and he’s FRUSTRATED with it, he swears he saw you on his kitchen at midnight (it’s not real) and touches himself while looking at your old photos that he still has.. hope u take requests
☆ : ex-bf! toji x fem!reader
⤷ tags : part one & two, ex trope, masterbation, pervy toji, needy toji, phone sex, dirty talk, mdni. wc. 1.1k
an. yesss i do and omg i love ex bf toji tysm ngh
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oh how he hates feeling like this.
ex-bf!toji was so pent up and annoyed. he’s annoyed at you for making him so irritated. so…hard. toji never realized how attached he grew towards you. after the messy break up. he found himself fantasizing about you way more than he should. it takes him a long time to move on.
that is if he ever moves on.
“the fuck..” he’d grumble, blinking twice to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks. he could have sworn he saw you in the kitchen, hovering over the sink counter, bent over while occupying yourself, doing the dishes or cooking.
with another blink, you weren’t there and he was back to reality, he scratched his head before a vexed scowl spreads on his pink lips. it was late at night, and he figured it was his own drowsiness getting to him — so he didn’t think much of it until he goes back towards his room.
he finds himself in his bed, lazily leaned back before unlocking it to look at the collection of old photos he had of you, the more…filthy ones the two of you took while intimate. he scrolls to a specific one with you on your knees, tongue sticking out and….next thing toji knew, he was dialing your number.
he didn’t have to go to his contact list because he knew your digits by heart.
he just needed to hear your voice again, touching himself at the thought and sight of you just wasn’t enough.
“oh, hey….didn’t think you’d pick up,” he breaks the silence. his voice was pitched, a hint of roughness in it. based from his breathing on the other line, it sounded like he was panting heavily. he lays back against the bed—combing a hand through his hair before wiping his nose. “i’m not gonna sugarcoat things so i’m just gonna say it,” he grumbles, clenching his jaw before swallowing. “i’ve been uh, fantasizin’ about you.”
it’s pretty late at night, and you’re still confused on why he called.
well…you probably knew. toji heard about your messy breakup. he just couldn’t get you out of his head — he wondered if it was like that for you.
“you fantasize about me?” you speak on the other end of the phone in a soft voice.
he’s always loved your voice, how sweet it sounded, especially during phone calls. the calm, smoothness of it.
“yeah,” he mutters. “thought i saw you in the kitchen today. and i got kind of hard once i was deleting pictures in my camera roll.”
“…oh?” you utter. and you couldn’t lie, you were intrigued, who were you kidding. you missed toji too—perhaps in more ways than one. you still kept the dozens of voicemails he dumped you. of just him talking, rambling, or even him talking you through an orgasm on the phone. “were you touching yourself to me, toji?”
he pauses for a brief moment before grumbling. “yeah. you know i was.”
“mhm..not really,” you giggle. “that’s kinda why i’m asking.”
toji inhales at your teasing, and he closes his eyes shut for a brief moment—you were…teasing him? he could tell by the tone of your voice. he tried to relax, squeezing two fingers down against his nose before uttering, “fuck, you should come over.”
“i’m all the way across town.”
“i’ll pick you up.”
“toji.” you rolled your eyes—you forgot how persistent he was. you could hear the want and neediness in his tone. it was cute, not to mention attractive. he was like this all because of you.
he sighs. “fine, just talk to me.”
“about?”
“talk to me,” he repeats, and his voice pitches a bit more. that made you feel tingly a bit. you knew what he meant by talking—toji was a man, an impatient one that wasn’t keen on beating around the bush nor sugar coating things. “i fuckin’ missed you. and knowing i can’t touch you right now, i feel all hot and pent up.”
you think for a moment before humming. “oh,” and then you smile to yourself. “if i were with you right now, what would you be doing, toji? what would we be doing?”
“i’d be kissing your neck, softly biting down against that spot where y’er all sensitive,” he starts—and he’s panting again, you hear a bit of shuffling through the other end of the line. “i’d kiss all up and down your body. trace my hands down your curves a-and.”
“it’s okay, just say you wanna fuck me.” you tease.
“woman….” he moans, and if you’d bet money that toji was stroking himself to you voice. he inhales and exhales, before swallowing a thick lump in his throat. the phone pressed up against his ear. “i wanna fuck you. so damn bad.”
you hum. “i bet you do,” and you were starting to get riled up yourself. toji grows quiet every time you speak, and hearing him sound all needy for you a bit horny yourself. “are you touching yourself right now, toji?”
“is it obvious?” he mutters.
“a little,” you coo, and it’s not long before toji starts to moan through the other line of the phone. his moans were low and pitchy—repeating your name again and again, you had him wrapped around your finger. “are you imagining i’m the one stroking you right now?”
“y-yeah baby.” he sighs. he hits his lip in frustration as his eyebrows press together, and he groans. “shit, ‘s not fair. y’know what you’re doing to me.”
you giggle. “i’m just talking to you. like you said.”
minutes past and toji’s jaw clenched, tilting his head back he’s just imagining the entire scene. your voice doesn’t make things better, he’s visualizing everything.
your touch, your taste, even your sweet scent. that pretty perfume you always wore—god, he wanted you. he craved you.
“f-fuck, ‘m gonna cum to just the sound of your voice.” he says. teeth clenched against each other, and he’s embarrassed. his face was flustered, flushed, whatever else. “all your fault.”
“sureee, it’s my fault.” you play along. after the long anticipating build up. toji cums, fisting his hand with pumps and watching how he made a mess on himself. a low sigh exits from his mouth and he grunts—the other like going quiet. “aww. toji, look at you, getting off to the sound of my voice. wish i could see.”
he groans. “…shut up,” before he hangs up abruptly.
you giggle before seconds later, there’s a request that pops up on your phone — and toji wants to video call you. probably so you could see the mess you made him make.
1K notes · View notes
velvetures · 7 months ago
Note
Hello loves💕 I still can't get over your writing I'm obsessed!!
I would love to request Roommate König x fem reader. König hears you fucking some guy on the other side of the wall and he can tell you faked it so once the dude is gone he's got you over his shoulder and is walking you to his bedroom to fuck you right. I love the idea of her trying to get him to confess to her and trying anything after months or years of mutual pining, her last resort is to make him jealous.
Overheard
a/n: I'm so sorry for being so slow my love... I always have the worst self-confidence with nsfw reqs. I constantly write them, delete them, and start all over... (this is like... the 8th full-draft retry) So I hope you'll forgive me if this isn't up to standard. Also, I know this trope has been covered by some really talented writers and I hoped to do it justice, and not feel like a carbon copy of something better. (ps. This shit is too long... but I knew if I deleted anything, I'd delete the whole thing over again.)
tw's: 18+ ONLY, nameless hookup, alluded unprotected sex w/side character, unintentional orgasm denial, the reader is mentally not in the best place for sex (disconnected), voyeurism, jealously, fem-oral receiving, fem-fingering receiving, dirty talk, König being a bit of a loser, König omitting his lack of experience, aftercare.
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His mom kept saying it was about time to settle down. That the biological clock, normally pushed on women, was ever-present and ticking against his favor. But his sweet, innocent, mother didn’t know the depth of his awkwardness. Not even the slightest idea that her well-mannered boy, turned praise-worthy Colonel was nothing but a bumbling fucking idiot when it came to speaking with women. In the field, sure. He could give orders, discuss tactics, and even bullshit with the best of the best… but if a woman was among those? Oh hell. It was like trying to talk to a brick wall with a randomly developed stuttering issue.
He didn’t understand where it came from either.
It wasn’t like his mother was one of the overbearing types that made dating impossible, and nor did he exactly have the worst time when he was younger with women being interested. It was just… after they showed interest, that became the struggle. Relaxing wasn’t possible. Not when he knew that a woman’s perception of him was far higher than that of any man. Believing that even the smallest of gestures and phrases could earn him an immediate dismissal, and his name or photo being sent in some group-chat to be berated after a first date. He didn’t blame any of the women though… he knew what he looked like. What he sounded like… and God, how miserable his personality was compared to what his career and position would lead others to assume.
A shred of truth could always be found in his mother’s warning though.
He’d gone years without any meaningful relationship where the softer, side of a woman could be found. He found bastardized ways of getting a taste, but he could only allocate so much money a month to porn sites and camgirls without feeling like a total sleaze. The Colonel felt much more confident mapping out a prospective warzone than the contours of a woman’s body, and fuck… it made him more than a little embarrassed to admit. Enough so, that when you mentioned that your rental agreement was coming to an end, and you were trying to find somewhere new to stay, he offered for you to just move in with him.
He owned. Which made the idea of ‘rent’ or you paying it almost unquestionably stupid. It made the deal a little sweeter -in his mind- for you to agree, and then he wouldn’t have to be quite so personally diligent on logging onto online portals to pay utilities. That is, if he could get you to move in. And while in his own mind and body, every synapse screamed that he was being unrealistic, you hadn’t caught on. He’d looked just as stoic and cold as ever when he propositioned that you just start moving over your things into his house. Save money… it’ll be easier for you; He’d said, hard eyes glancing over your face. You thought saying ‘yes’ was anxiety-inducing? König nearly passed out in his office after walking there on numb feet and weak knees.
In the week following, he brought you a small ring of keys, and you started moving your life into his, one cardboard box at a time. And every night after returning from his on-base duties, he would have to physically restrain himself from opening up the taped flaps and getting a peek at the unattended items sitting by the front door. At the time, he thought it was nothing more than unchecked curiosity and instinct to feel-out a new situation. Just simply wanting to learn more about you before you started sleeping over. Merely the soldier in him. But box, by box, that curiosity didn’t dampen down. Even when your items began making their way out of their containers and enmeshing with his around the house.
Tea cups in the kitchen cabinet next to his thicker, coffee mugs. Throw blankets rolled and stacked in the far corning of the couch he rarely sat on. A little rug you’d tossed down in the kitchen in front of the stove with a little floral print that he’d been utterly possessed to not get any stains on while cooking, or by taking off his boots before walking inside. And while never claiming to be a ‘minimalist’ man, he learned right away that his house was nothing short of a hotel when it came to personality.
You’d brought at least five full walls worth of decor. Little trinkets and cute things from all over the world you’d been sneaky enough to stuff into the pockets of your gear. And all of it, had initially been shoved into an empty linen closet he’d been perfect happy with you claiming as your own since it was ‘on your side of the house’. That was, until he found himself noticing that you’d put more than “storage” things away, and had silently refused to put them where they belonged.
On the damn walls.
“I don’t decorate well anyways..” It’d been his excuse… or at least something along those lines. Maybe a little bit more gruff. Guarded. Because even in his own home, he had the tendency of walking around like someone was going to sneak up behind him.
So one week, while he was away, you took the permission and ran with it. Buying the picture hanging kits, and everything else needed to begin covering the Colonel’s walls with your amassed collection of utterly unnecessary, but brain-scratching decorations, art, and collectable junk. Spending a good half hour walking around the halls and rooms with a little smile of accomplishment on your face seeing the colonel’s house feeling more like a home. Totally unaware that he’d been checking the security cameras dotted around, watching you scale a shitty stepladder, climb the kitchen cabinets, and struggle to lift the more heavy items. All the while, growing more and more intrigued with this new arrangement. Debating whether he liked it or not. Rapt attention making the instinctive suggestion that you’d make a good wife far less perverse than he should’ve felt it to be.
Missions took precedence though. And it kept both of you busy more than not. Fully living adjacent instead of in a more dependent role. But there were decidedly small decisions that needed to be made. Like who was in charge of buying groceries, and getting essentials that you both used. König ended up just leaving cash on the counter once a week so you could take care of his end for him. Saving the trouble of a second loaf of bread being bought, or doubling up on paper towels after a miscommunication lead to fifty rolls of the shit needing to be stored somewhere. You did the job more than credibly, and it got you out of the house too.
Which was good, because you rarely left.
Not unlike him, you preferred your time spent in calm situations. Either reading reports, answering emails, and other related tasks before just closing that tab on your laptop and opening up an new one to watch a show or scroll on your phone. You appeared to thrive in his house when you could curl up like some little bird in a nest and just rest. Developing almost permanently sleepy eyes when you came through the door, and a softer tone of voice that took some getting used to. König didn’t exactly understand it. Why your demeanor changed so much within the house, and how it got substantially much more noticeable when your schedules aligned for both of you to be there at the same time.
A solid seven months or more passed before he got his answer. And from your late-night scrolling nonetheless.
Some woman, blabbering on about her husband, and all of the ways that he effected her life once she moved in with him. And, honestly, König wasn’t listening all that much. Having just begun sitting on the other end of the couch with you, since it was where you spent your evenings after dinner. And, it’d become a little bit of a new experience. Just being halfway close to you. Interacting, but not. A safe way to enjoy your presence without any expectations. But that woman on your phone caught his attention when she made the joke about being tired all the time. Tired. Sleepy. All the fucking time. He had to stare down at the TV to keep his head from snapping in your direction.
Apparently it was chemical. Some little thing in the back of a woman’s mind that men didn’t have the complexity to experience the same way. That this woman -and you- were so mentally focused for such a long time, that when the right person was around you, and created a safe space, it acted like a the strongest sleeping pill in existence. Flooding you with dopamine and melatonin to the point that your pretty face got even sweeter with those deep, sleepy looks and constant yawns at all times of the day. Getting a glimpse of you tapping the screen twice, and then tapping at your keyboard to leave a comment only reinforced his inquisitiveness. From the moving boxes, to watching you on cameras while away… and now realizing that you acted so sweet and docile around the house because of him..? He didn’t know how to control himself, and still find a way to keep figuring you out.
Wanting more…
Needing a chance to find out if things could go further than just living in his house.
Dating wasn’t a walk in the park for you either. Call it a hazard of military work. Computers and filing paperwork was more your speed than the guns and blood that König was accustomed to, but it still limited the amount of men who were interested. Especially in the long-term.
It really came down to the uniform and lack of free time that could be allotted to the guys that you did have the fortune to meet. They wanted to take you on dates, and your superiors preferred you stay late to take minutes for a meeting. They always suggested you take a vacation, since it was clear just how tired you were on a daily basis. But vacations were practically a laughable dream you knew wouldn’t come to fruition until you finally were sent the retirement packet everyone in the service dreamed of. But.. on the rare occasion, you did have the energy to entertain a man for a night. Just. One. Night.
Thankfully König was out.
Such good timing considering you’d spent nearly a week, taking your sweet time to wring orgasms out of yourself just for the sheer frustration of getting them, and still not feeling satisfied. Instinctively missing the warmth of skin on skin and the dynamic of having someone else provide and take pleasure from you. Even getting on the app had felt more like a shopping trip than a chance to go on a date. Looking through photos and bios with nothing more on your mind than someone big enough, and pretty enough to make the ordeal worth it. The guy who answered back to your painfully blatant request for a good fuck, didn’t ask any questions either. Just asked politely asked if you wanted to go to him, or vice versa and gave you ample time to get yourself ready before the knock on the front door.
Your mental ruined any chance of having a good time though.
The poor guy sucking at your neck and grunting soft praises was nice… but you couldn’t get into it. Feeling tense. Going through the motions. Foreplay becoming an act of forced moans to reassure the guy genuinely trying to make you feel good, and unable to even make eye contact for a slightly guilty feeling that pervaded your thoughts. Hell, you even refused to have missionary, just to make sure that your facial expressions didn’t have to constantly match the fake whimpers and whines.
John… Joe… Jacob… whatever his name was, he was honestly a sweet guy. Giving your clit attention, no just shoving his cock in you without prep, and actively checking in without making it overbearing. On another day, you’d have really been trying harder to impress him. Give the impression that you were interested in him for more than the sex you couldn’t surrender to. Hope that he liked you enough to stick around. But deep down, you thought better of it. Withholding your feelings to ensure that when he left you alone for the night, that you wouldn’t hate yourself.
König, on the other hand, came home a bit earlier than expected. Walking in the door quietly to expect a silent house, and you sleeping in your bed or on the couch after waiting up for him. Only to be stunned with wet, skin slapping and familiar, pathetic, whimpers getting overrun by deep grunts and low, almost whispered sounds from a man.
God… you were getting fucked.
His whole chest tightened in embarrassment and his face felt hot. You’d never been quite this comfortable… at least to his knowledge. Plenty of nights he had overheard the faint sounds of you getting off alone… soft little moans and gentle hums of a vibrator filtering down the hallway to him. But he’d never heard anything quite that… loud. Even when you fucked yourself on a dildo -he’d always been too curious not to listen intently- the slick sounds of your cunt always made louder noise than your voice. As mortified as he was hearing it… part of him knew something was wrong. Like his whole body was stiff, realizing that you weren’t enjoying it. Faking it… for some unknown reason.
Why couldn’t you say something? Surely you could ask him to… to do something different right? To let you use a toy? Or… or touch your clit? Whatever it took to help you enjoy yourself. But those pinched, almost broken moans starting grating on him within seconds. Stalking towards your bedroom door quietly, and leaning against the wall. Eyes closed and his breath getting heavier with each imagined scene in his head that developed. Picturing him doing all the wrong things… Touching you… tasting you… and living out his own pleasure without the slightest idea that every sound out of your mouth was a fucking lie.
König’s jaw clenched. Resisting a sudden desire to bang on the door or make some other loud noise that would bring this all to an end. Even his fist clenched at his side flinched towards the bedroom door, as if he was insane enough to actually bust in.
What would he even do?
The question rang out a bit too harshly in his mind.
He didn’t have the first idea how to… do better. To make you feel good, or any woman really. Plenty of jealousy rose in his throat at the thought of that bastard fucking you, but he hadn’t even touched a pussy in years. And the last time he did it, he was, pathetically inexperienced. Using his huge fingers to try and prep his partner, but not hitting any of the right spots. Accidentally taking a clinical approach, and it left him feeling like a damn gynecologist instead of a good fuck.
He couldn’t please you, no matter how much he wanted to…
The sobering thought forced him to back away from your bedroom door. But pride alone forced him into the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a glass of scotch in his hand. The last -and unavoidable- line of defense before the front door. No doubt in his mind that if nothing else, he’d get a good look at the man you’d brought home for a disappointing night of sex. Wanting to at least humiliate the bastard for a few seconds. Because while he knew himself to not be an acceptable partner, the guy currently riding out his high in your bedroom wasn’t going to know it. And seeing him -in his daily fatigues- and his hood, would give any man a moment of pause.
You felt sticky. Hot. And more than a little achy in all the wrong ways as Jeff… Josh… whoever the fuck he was, removed himself form your bed and began pulling on his jeans. Watching cautiously as he excused himself into your bathroom -sweetly- offering you a wet washcloth and a too-shy smile for a man who’d just come all over your stomach.
You didn’t bother putting on pants to walk him out to the front door. Too disappointed and stuck in your own head to see König standing in the corner of the kitchen. His dark eyes glaring daggers at your… ‘guest’ who was much more observant, and stood stock still. Shirt in his hands, and forced to raise his gaze more than normal to get the best look at the terrifying man looming in the shadows. It took you far longer than it should’ve. To trace Jonah… Josiah’s… gaze, and recognize your roommate. And even longer to remember that you weren’t wearing pants.
“Hey man…”
You had to give what’s-his-name credit for being as casual as he sounded. Because in all honesty, you were just as taken aback. Shuffling to stand behind the guy just enough that your bare pussy and ass weren’t totally out for him to see.
“Evening…” König sounded… bored? Not his normal tone. “Heading out already?” The guy you were using as a shield, just nodded his head. Looking a bit apologetic, but still anxious.
“Yeah, man…” He pulled his head over his shirt, patting his pockets for the jingle of car keys before glancing back at you with an truly apologetic smile, and a clear unpreparedness for the situation. “I… uh…. thanks for… letting me come over…”
You can’t manage more than a nod. No smile, no reassuring touch to him… nothing. Just a silent acknowledgment and the subsequent scamper over to the couch to grab a blanket to cover yourself up.
Shit… König fucking waved bye…
He didn’t expect you to come out. Nor to get his first-ever look at your pussy. And god it’d taken a lot of restraint not to just stare at you and memorize what he could get get a look at. You just looked soft. So fucking small and soft… A slight sheen of sweat on your face and the roots of your hair damp from the erotic affair.
Too bad it was all an act.
“Thanks for letting him come, huh?” He can’t resist… the guy just hadn’t been cautious enough to not fuel the fire of jealously in him.
Seeing you wrap that blanket around you tighter, avoiding all eye contact, and even turning your side to him a bit… it makes him smile under his hood. An amused one. A sickeningly happy sort of feeling rising in his gut where you appear vulnerable under his gaze. You’re already much more expressive just talking to him than you’d sounded with that bastards cock inside you.
“Didn’t think you’d be back for a while…” Your valid excuse falls a bit flat, especially when those dark brown eyes scan your entire body. He lifts his tumbler of scotch under his hood, nodding before taking a long drink. Feeling a secondary burn that soothes the heat building everywhere else in him.
“I can see that…” He chuckles lowly. To him, it sounds unsure… and maybe tinged with anger, jealously. But on your face, he’s clear that you don’t recognize it. Far too embarrassed to see that there’s just as much uncertainty flooding him as well. “Could hear it too…”
He literally sees your shoulders sink. The wave of embarrassment. Part of him loves it. Knowing you’re experiencing some of the same things he is. That you to, know what it’s like to leave a bed feeling like things didn’t go right, and there’s a guilt that hardens like sediment in your gut. Yet the other half, resists pushing harder. Using this same, defensive, and chastising tone. To give you just a bit of respite, because, he’s not really mad… he’s just fuming with jealously.
“If I knew… I wouldn’t have…” You can’t manage much more. Both of you knowing damn well this wouldn’t have happened if you knew what his arrival was going to be. You always kept so good to his schedules… and not just because this was his house. But because you were so genuinely sweet around him.
“Been so loud?” He suggests, downing the last gulp of his scotch and pushing away from the counter. “Speaking of that…” His gaze lingers on your throat… those faked moans echoing in his mind.
“I didn’t know it was common practice for women to walk their fucktoys to the door… especially when he doesn’t make you come.”
If your stomach was twisting before, there wasn’t a doubt now. And god… you couldn’t tell if it was that he was home, or his voice, or just the edged-feeling of your aching pussy; but König was making you squirm. More than he’d ever done before… and you’d gotten yourself off to the thought of him plenty of times before when no other fantasy had done the trick.
“I finished.” You defend, tightening the blanket around your waist and tucking your bare feet under the excess material pooling on the floor.
König’s eyes blacken, and he laughs lowly. It’s the closest you’ve seen to his behavior when he’s interrogating someone. His power of knowing all the right answers and just dangling the freedom to lie right in front of your face. Maddening, to say the least. And enough to make your thighs flex together.
“I’d like to believe you…” he begins, making leisurely steps closer. “Yet, I’ve spent more nights than I care to admit hearing you come… and what I just hear… is nothing close to the real thing.”
“It’s different with—when it’s not just me.” You gape at him, trying to find anger at the audacity.
Searching for something other than a feeling of arousal knowing that despite your muffled cries into pillows, he’d still heard you at night. Still listened, and if nothing else, knew what your true pleasure sounded like to call you on bullshit. He shrugs, massive hands resting on his hips. Watching them sway a little as he keeps getting closer. Testing the boundary lines you no doubt had. Pushing and prodding at weak spots, and wondering if he can set foot on the living room rug you stood at the center of.
“Different, huh?” The fake acceptance doesn’t last long. “So if I asked for proof… you’d have it?”
“Proof?” You choke out. “What kind of proof could I even give you?” There are plenty running around in your head, all of them raunchier than the previous. But you’re almost desperate to hear him say it.
“Sweetheart, you’ve got the wettest fucking cunt I’ve ever heard,” He growls softly. “You never finish yourself off without making the slickest goddamn noises. Can hear it from down the hallway like it’s playing off my phone.” He adds, voice getting gritty, eyes lowering towards your hips and back up.
“Show me, that is… if he really did make you come.”
Air in your lungs evaporates. God it’s criminal how fucking lewd anything could sound coming from his mouth. And your dry pussy is pathetically getting wetter by the second. Fluttering muscles twitching with each filthy admission he makes. You’re already resorting to putting pressure against your clit by flexing your legs, trying to deny the feelings. Excusing it all by the still-lingering desire for release and not König. Not moving, and a miserable lack of a response forces him to approach faster. Stepping onto the rug serving as a mental barrier for you.
“Embarrassed?” He asks, head tilting a little and stretching the hood to pull away from his chest a little. Putting a bit more of his chest on display in that tight t-shirt.
You shake your head defiantly.
“Oh? Okay then… you should be able to show me then, right? Pretty girl like you, wanting to get fucked… Should be more than willing to brag that you got satisfied. That he left you satiated…”
Your face burns. Debating how to answer. If it’s even smart to try and test your voice in the first place.
“Nothing to see… got-got cleaned up…” God the miserable truth that your no-name partner’s cum was the only thing needing cleaned off of you hits like a punch to the gut.
A massive hand grabs at the blanket in your grip stops all possibility of lying anymore. A warning. Gentle, for sure and meant to be just a small test of consent. However, you too far into this to not want more. He’s just hitting all the right buttons, whether he means to or not.
“How about I… check for myself?” He asks lowly, free hand -covered in a glove- sliding up under his hood and returning into sight with the achingly sexy sight of a huge, scarred hand. His meaning isn’t lost on you, and it’s almost like your cunt floods in anticipation.
“Slide my hand between your pretty thighs, and see just how good he treated you…” He murmurs, trailing fingers down the two sides of the blanket pulled together. “Let me see if that pussy is fucking drenched like she deserves to be.”
“König.” You warn softly, eyes darting down to his hand and back to his eyes.
Not the slightest bit worried about him touching you. Not at all. But about what would happen after all the tension faded. What would come of your relationship if you fucked… or, just made things complicated in general.And he pauses, looking to you a bit cooler. His breathing still heavy, and laden with emotion.
“Yes, sweetheart?”
You’re desperate to think of a way to explain yourself, but the most basic, stupid, comment comes out of your mouth.
“I don’t want this to end badly.”
He straightens just a bit. But his hands don’t move. And while from your perspective, it seems he’s hesitating on whether or not to continue, that’s not what’s got him stuck mere inches away from slipping his fingers between your folds.
He’s worried you know. That you’ve caught on to his inexperience, and are merely defending yourself from a second bad experience in one night. And god it makes this throat burn. Desperate to defend himself and prove that while -yes- he’s more than a little bit lost when it comes to the manual process, he’s still going to be the most teachable fucking man you’ve ever met.
“I’ll listen so well…” He eventually mutters, stepping just a bit closer. Voice lowering and a hint of desperation entering it. “Can—can give you everything you want… Just need to tell me…” he adds, unable to look you in the eyes.
It’s not exactly what you were expecting to hear, but it still strokes that burn between your thighs. Especially when his hands grip your hips through the blanket wrapped around you. Groping softly, massaging at the fat over your muscles and feeling hungry just to touch you.
“I… I don’t want things to be awkward afterwards.” You try to reexplain. Hoping the clarification will help him see why you hadn’t already leaned into his commanding touch.
“Awkward,” he repeats, as if it’s a foreign idea. Like it’d never crossed his mind. “Don’t plan on ignoring you anymore… Not—Not after hearing that… and knowing… fuck…”
“He couldn’t have listened… please tell me you tried to tell him what to do… what you wanted,” His rambles get more panicked. Like every thought in his head is equally important and he can’t take the time to pick one and let me even answer. “Should’ve asked what your pussy needed… how to make you feel good… make those pretty sounds..”
You’re half dazed just watching his breathy words fan the material of his hood to react to his boot kicking your feet apart. Wide hand sliding between your thighs and groaning. A deep, guttural sound that reminds of him being winded. And really… he probably should be. Because your inner thighs are dry to the touch. The wetness he’d been creating still not enough to make much fuss over. But he’s not satisfied with that alone. Immediately curling a finger to spread your lips, feeling the thick, slick of new arousal that had been nothing, if not his doing.
“Ohh, you poor baby…” He sighs lowly, head rolling back at the mere sensation of your pussy under his fingertips. Feeling you a bit anxiously, yet getting a buzz in the back of his skull when your hole pulses against his prodding touch. “Left you so fucking hot…”
It’s a fast movement but he’s got you off your feet and dropped down onto the couch in one swift move. Your back arched in the slumped position and the blanket that’d been covering your -pathetic- modesty, fluttered open on both sides of your hips. Leaving your core exposed to his hungry and heavy-lidded eyes. Letting out a little whine of a sound when he slowly drops to a knee; tracing his hands down your inner thighs like he was scared of touching you too harshly.
“König, please…” You gasp out, watching his thumb run over your swollen labias. Pinching your fat lips together softly and inadvertently putting delicious pressure on your swollen clit. He curses under his breath, free hand grabbing your thigh with bruising strength.
“Tell me how to please you,” He commands, eyes flashing dangerously wide in the icy moonlight streaming through the living room windows. “I need to make you come.”
His desperate, and knows you can see it. His whole body shakes seeing your flushed pussy a mere foot away from his face, and nothing but opportunity and his hood preventing him from burying his face in it. Watching as you shyly reach for his wrist, guiding his hand where you want it. Extending his fingers and whimpering when your motion for him to rub small circles over your clit sends those to-intense waves of pleasure through your pussy.
“Like that… just like that…” You’re able to praise with a shaky nod of your head.
Rocking your hips in tandem with his movements and nearly crying out in relief when he diligently keeps the same pressure to you despite your little twitches and grinds. Allowing you the freedom to plant your feet on the edge of the couch and simply feel. König’s lost in it. Lost in the sight of you. Your pretty mouth gaping open and your hips chasing the touch he’s providing. His breath catching when you cry out or give a weak praise for his work. Like you’re enjoyingwhat he’s doing.
But god he’s happy to stay right where you want him, how you want him. Feeling his knee dig into the harsh floorboards, and ignoring it with a refreshed feeling of duty he’d long lost as a soldier. Never had he been given such a pretty fucking prize to work for. Nothing as sweet as seeing your cunt drip from his rough fingers rubbing soft, almost too-soft circles over it. Not even realizing that he’d spent almost fifteen minutes just rubbing your clit lazily when your hand reaches back down. Happy to direct him yet again, especially when he doesn’t even need a verbal direction to do exactly what you want.
“Fingers,” You whisper through panting exhales. “Give me your fingers…”
Your little hand grabs his pointer and middle fingers, spreading your own slick over them like a goddamn professional before guiding him down to your aching hole. Letting go just long enough to feel the thick digits press though that first little ring of tightened muscle. Forcing your eyes open to witness his mostly-hidden expression as he sinks knuckle deep inside of you.
“So fucking pretty,” His head shakes a little, lost in the creamy slick gathering at the base of his fingers as he curls him up towards your pelvis just a little. Subconsciously scared to do the wrong thing, but desperate to keep your cunt flex and mold to his touch. “Tell me, sweetheart… show me what she needs.”
You’re too possessed to chase your high to not listen. Readjusting your bent legs on the couch to gently lift your hips and sink them back down. Slowly getting used to the feeling of his thick fingers, already deeper than your no-name partner. Groaning when they bump into your g-spot just hard enough to make your clit burn. Grinding against his hand and keeping one hand wrapped around his wrist just to try and ground yourself to the present situation. Lost in the rhythm of fucking yourself -quite literally- stupid within mere minutes. Beginning to hear that vulgar, sucking sound of your pussy gripping his fingers and utterly drooling over his palms.
König’s helpless to so more than sing your praise. “That’s a good girl… so good for me. Using me like a fucking toy.”
It’s the best he’s felt in a long time. Watching you take from him. Too absorbed to even think about anything other than yourself. Not in enough control to even worry about the true moans and yelps escaping you. Real pleasure wracking your body and burning every nerve ending.
“More… please more…” You cry softly, hips slowing to a painfully sexy grind as you squeeze the tendons in his wrist with your thumb.
König takes a little more initiative than he’s normally comfortably using, but adds a third finger. Slowly pumping them in and out, little by little, to help you adjust. Watching as your eyebrows pinch together in focus. A low growl rumbles in his chest, his mouth practically watering as your cunt sucks him in.
“Let me taste it, baby…” He huffs, head flinching forwards before backing off, repeating the action a couple more times. “Wanna help… just—just let me taste you…”
You clench around his fingers when he rests his cheek against your inner thigh. Big, wide eyes pleading with you so innocently like he isn’t stretching your hole wider than the biggest of your toys can with nothing but a few fingers. Forcing you to slow the roll of your hips, a shaky hand reaching out to cup his face through the mask. Rubbing a thumb over his hidden cheekbone with a little whimpered hum. Pulling his head closer to you, hissing when the hem of his hood merely grazes your clit.
“How’d you want it?” He asks, head down and pulling his mask up so you’re stuck. Forced to merely feel his mouth so close to you, and not see the shape of his mouth.
“Lick-lick my clit… s-soft…” You whine, eye shutting when the hot fan of his exhale his your fevered skin.
Holding his head steady with one hand, you almost coming up off the couch when his tongue makes one, long, lazy, lap between your folds. Gripping at the material of his hood just tight enough that he ends up ripping the whole thing off. Tossing it to the floor with an aggressive snarl that rumbles against your clit. Sparks of pleasure forcing your thighs apart and jerking your hips back up. Chasing his mouth. The rough texture of his tongue, and the slight graze of his teeth against your slicked folds.
Your orgasm approaches fast from there. Between his fingertips stroking you deep, and the new rhythm of his tongue lapping your slick up to massage your clit, it’s hard to even warn König that he can’t stop for risk of ruining your long-awaited release.
“König… K… oh… fuucckk…”
Your back arches tightly, both hands grabbing harshly at his hair with an unintelligible shout as you come. Jerking wildly and one of your feet losing it’s hold on the edge of the couch. Trying to fight through the shocks of pleasure, and groaning curses with a hoarse throat. Feeling König’s free hand latch onto your thigh to keep you from running away too far from his still-working lips and tongue. Sucking up the wet drips of release trying to drip down his hand.
“Slow, slow down.” You whimper, pushing at his forehead just a little. The pressure too much. The stretch of his fingers still satisfying but overstimulating.
Your so fucking grateful that he doesn’t fight you on it, or force you to try for another. And maybe it’s just the mere sight of you. abdominal muscles twitching, forcing your upper body to do baby-curls with each flex of your pulsing cunt. Toes curled and an all-over buzzing sensation making it hard to even make sense of where your limbs are in relation to the rest of your body, much less König or the couch your hardly laying on.
“You okay, sweetheart?” His softened voice almost gives you emotional whiplash, especially when he bends over you forehead resting against yours softly.
Gently removing his fingers with murmured apologies when your little winces mar your pretty features. Both hands sliding up your sides to help lift you back onto the couch, moving to sit himself next to you just long enough to reposition your body on his lap. Pulling that blanket back over your bottom half and maneuvering your cold, tingling feet between his thighs like he can tell they’re freezing. He presses soft kisses all over your forehead and nose. Rocking you softly and squeezing at the muscles in the back of your neck reassuringly.
“You needed that… needed to feel good…” he murmurs almost lovingly.
You nod dumbly, laying your head against his shoulder. Letting out soft nearly unconscious whimpers and a soft repetition of his name in cum-drunk appreciation.
“Told you I could listen… could be good for you,” He adds, almost like he’s reassuring himself of the idea. “Wanted to be better than him. Needed to prove it.”
He holds up your weighty head, stabilizing it with care and a sickeningly sweet look of devotion in his eyes.
“You’re never going to fake it again, sweetheart.”
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reblogs & comments are always appreciated <3
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m0nsterqzzz · 11 months ago
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Dating Clarisse La Rue Headcanons
pairing: Clarisse La Rue x reader
summary: some of my favorite clarisse headcanons I've heard or come up with
a/n: how many words in Clarisse? ATE. anyway, heres this while I work on like 5 different clarisse fics cuz I always finish writing, second guess, and then delete it so i can start over in hopes it'll turn out better.
ENEMIES TO LOVERS IS HER TROPE (just because she’s so good at making enemies, and who wouldn’t fall for her charm even as she holds her spear up to their face?)
Can cook (super well too) but she doesn’t do it very often because she doesn’t have a reason to
^ will sneak into the camp kitchen at night and cook for you if you say please
Loves matching outfits with you. Not like twin babies matching, but like loves paying attention to what you’re going to wear the next day and picking out clothes of a similar color (I don’t know bro but I can see it and it’s so ahhhhhh)
Purposefully flexes her arms as she hugs you just so she can show off her muscles
Casually calls you her wife/husband whenever she feels like it simply because she can and it makes others confused and you flustered.
Keeps all your favorite books on her nightstand. Not because she likes reading (girly never picked up a book before she met you) but because she wants to read them so she’ll understand more of what you’re saying when you ramble about them. (it’s her silent way of saying she cares)
Is nervous to give much affection when you first start dating but absolutely MELTS the first time you hold her hand.
Randomly pokes you to the point that you get up and walk away just because she finds it funny.
Is pretty tall for her age, but still wears combat boots or platform hightops because she likes being taller than her siblings and you.
When she smirks at you, you’re either about to hear the fluffiest, love sick, sentence ever known to mankind, or a deserves-jail-time, barn floor type dirty, pick up line.
“And you’ll save all your dirtiest jokes for me.” Literally describes you and her. She makes the most, down bad, don’t say it around the younger camper, jokes you’ve ever heard and all you can do is laugh while staring at her in shock.
Puts a DISGUSTING amount of sugar in her coffee
Struggles to fall asleep all her life, but the moment she feels you playing with her hair or rub her back, she’s OUT
In another life, she is in a band and you go to every performance. Nobody can convince me she wouldn’t DOMINATE a guitar solo.
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star-girl69 · 1 year ago
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Don’t Delete The Kisses
Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Aphrodite!Reader
—-
synopsis: after breaking someone’s heart as apart of your initiation into the aphrodite cabin, you don’t think love is meant for you after your cruelty. clarisse thinks you’re ridiculous.
a/n: my friend was talking about how like insane this song makes her and i was like oh so this is genius
Don’t Delete The Kisses - Wolf Alice
warnings: insecure and very sad y/n ☹️, so like yeah all of that stuff, very ooc clarisse but IDC, i hate everyone but you trope fr, more talking about our feelings which we know is very hard for clarisse, the usual mentions of death and weapons, all that demigod stuff, more clarisse wanting, clarisse is insane as always i love her my ladybug fr, swearing, mentions of food, crap ton of violence, broken noses, whole bunch of blood, teeth get knocked out, yeah, tell me if i missed anything!!
—-
“Well, did you do it?”
You wanted to sneak into the Aphrodite cabin silently, hoping your pink jacket would blend into the walls and hide you. But that was just wishful thinking. That was just something you whispered to yourself on the walk back to comfort your shaking body, wiping away the tears.
This is your initiation. They’re all sitting on their beds, waiting with eager eyes, greedy for a taste of someone else’s suffering, the comfort of knowing it’s not their own.
“Yes,” you say, pretending tears don’t rim your eyes.
You stand stall, shutting the cabin door behind you.
“I did it.”
Your sister Drew stands up and grabs your hand. You think she might comfort you. You think she might tell you Carter was in it all along, you didn’t really hurt him, it was all some elaborate prank.
Instead, she raises your hand up in the air and turns towards the rest of your siblings.
“Y/N!” she says, “Daughter of Aphrodite!”
Your siblings clap and cheer, smiling widely- one of the younger girls runs right up to you and hugs you, face in your stomach.
“You played him so good,” she giggles, pigtails swinging in the air. She is so naïve, so young, so unknowing. You wonder if you can give yourself amnesia if you slam your head into the column holding up the cabin.
You would do anything to forget this night. To forget the look on Carter’s face. He fell in love with you and you let your siblings guide you on what to do, what to say, you let them dress you up and and put pretty bows in your hair that he reached out to touch.
He thought he would end the night with a kiss, but instead he ended the night with your hand in his face, scoffing animatedly and asking “How could he ever think a daughter of Aphrodite could like him?”
You could feel his heart break, and you could feel your mother ghosting around the wind, you could feel the muscles in your face strain as your eyes filled with tears.
You wrap your arms around your younger sister and force yourself to chuckle.
“His face was so funny,” you say, but there was an unintended action to your initiation. Your heart broke too. You saw the look on his face- if that is how losing love feels then you never want to give yourself the chance to lose it.
Besides, it’s not like you could ever deserve love after this. The love your siblings crave but never quite get. True, encompassing, all-consuming love. After this night, after the hatred coiling up in your stomach like a snake, it’s just not meant for you.
—-
Everyone at Camp calls you princess.
It made you feel like a baby, weak, like you were nothing but a pretty face. But no matter how much you flinched at the nickname, grimaced when you found yourself answering to its call, no one stopped.
Your siblings all cooed and said it was so fitting, saying with curled lips that you were most definitely Aphrodite’s favorite. Your hair always fell in the most beautiful way, your makeup always stayed and looked beautiful, you know you can’t walk through camp without someone looking at you.
Especially after your charmspeak developed, you became a shell of yourself, scared constantly like you are just a walking knife, doomed to cut anyone you come near.
You’re not that different from your siblings- the only difference is you won’t ever lead someone on. You won’t ever make anyone thing they have a chance. Because you’ll never break someone’s heart again.
You’re still Aphrodite’s daughter, you still like to look pretty. So, you do your makeup and your hair, you revel in the feelings of eyes on you but you choose your words carefully.
But other than that, you despise love, your mother, everything about the Aphrodite Cabin.
But you suck it up, you let boys fix your posture, let them teach you to fight while they dream of kissing you, and you work silently and you wait to get out of this hellhole Camp.
You stay silent and you let them realize that you’re just simply not interested in a relationship. They’re sad, but their hearts aren’t broken.
Everybody calls you princess. But Clarisse says it differently.
Clarisse La Rue is probably the bane of your existence. She’s drop dead gorgeous, you would kill to run your hands through her curls, and she is the most talented person you know in battle. You’re pretty good, after all this silent training and the tips and tricks shared in vain, but she is a force.
She’s the one guilty pleasure you let yourself have. If only because you know she’s too strong to get hurt. So you let yourself look, keep a secret crush tight in your chest- only bursting out when you can’t stand it, and you just have to stare at her and revel in that for a second.
The thing about Clarisse is that she likes you. Which would be fine, you just tried to stay away, but she kept coming back for more and more until it became impossible to ignore her. It’s like you two were just doomed to forever be in love with each other, and you have to live with that and eat it like crow.
It’s not like she outwardly flirts with you. She just says your nickname differently. She caresses the words and says it softer. She doesn’t stare at you like everyone else- she looks at you. It feels amazing, your one guilty pleasure is to revel in her love from far away, but you make it clear that you don’t want a relationship and you never will.
Clarisse seems intent either to ignore that or wait you out. You don’t let her get close enough. You won’t break someone else’s heart.
Everyone calls you princess. You only like it when Clarisse says it.
—-
“Hi, princess.”
You don’t look at him, focusing on tying your shoes instead. “Can I help you?”
“Actually, I thought I could help you.”
You finish tying your laces, taking your foot up off of the bench and onto the ground. You grab your sword, hair tied back, tank top and stretchy pants. He looks you up and down. You do the same.
“Uh… Van, right?”
“Funny name so you won’t forget it, huh?” he winks, and you very obviously grimace.
“Ha, yeah.” You set your sights on a dummy currently not being attacked by a sword or spear and take a step forward.
“I noticed,” he starts, arm in front of you, stopping you from moving. “That the only weapon you don’t know how to use is the spear.”
You finally look at him. He’s wearing cargo pants and the orange camp t-shirt. His hand is plain and blonde, cut short, and his cheeks seem to be permanently flushed. He’s a son of Ares, pretty good fighter, but nothing else to speak for. Clarisse, at least, is the absolute best at almost everything she does- and she puts in the work to show it.
Van looks like he trains the minimum amount and gets by on his natural abilities as a demigod.
“Okay?” you say, wanting nothing more than to get away from him and go back to training. “I don’t get what you’re saying. And don’t flirt with me, either- one of my siblings would be happy to make out with you in a shed somewhere.”
“I’ll teach you,” he says, slightly exasperated. You finally notice he is, in fact, holding a spear. “Huh?”
You squint at him.
You do have a reputation in this camp. Part of the reason you’re called princess is because you’re standoffish and cold- people mistake it as you thinking you’re better than them. Really, you’re one of the worst people at this camp. You’re saving them from being tainted by association.
But every once in a while, someone will get it in their heads that soulmates do exist, and they’re the right person for you- and you’re mean and you shut them down, but that’s way before they fall in love. It hurts them, but not as much as it hurts you, not as much as it would hurt them if you gave them any ounce of attention.
The only person who keeps coming back for more sticks her spear into the ground next to you, fingers drumming against the wood.
“Van, you look fucking stupid.”
“Clarisse,” Van hisses, glaring at her. She glares right back, unimpressed. “Can you just go? Fuck.”
She raises her eyebrows. His spear hits the dirt before you can even comprehend that Clarisse kicked it out of his hands, and you have to admit- Clarisse is quick. Clarisse is good at what she does.
She pours everything she’s got into training- and pursuing you. You think it might just be a joke at this point, or something she finds fun, been doing it too long that stopping feels wrong. You would be lying if you said it wouldn’t be weird for her to stop. For both of you to stop whatever this is. This silent wanting.
“First of all, you are mediocre with a spear. Second, if Y/N wanted spear lessons she would come to me, right?”
“I don’t know,” you huff, walking away.
“Clarisse,” you can hear Van groan. “She was going to say yes until you ruined it.”
“Bro, she was not going to say yes. You’re welcome for saving your ass from even more embarrassment, Gods.”
“You’re just mad she doesn’t like you after you’ve been pining for years.”
She laughs, loud and boisterously, but there’s an edge to her voice, one of doubt, something like she’s scared.
“Oh, you’re fucking funny,” she says, and you can hear her slapping his shoulder. You stretch, risking a glance over your shoulder- Van is walking off and she’s looking at you.
But when your eyes meet hers, she quickly looks away. And you notice. You notice, but you do nothing about it. The way it’s always meant to be.
—-
The strawberry fields is the most beautiful place at camp. It’s where you feel something for your mother, because while gardening and plants are Demeter’s thing- finding beauty in the way the strawberry sits in your hand, the way the sun turns the sky into purple and oranges, the way the bright green trees stand out against that- it’s all your mother.
You can appreciate beauty here.
You see beauty everywhere, and you see love everywhere, but not the kinds your mother is famous for.
You’ve been picking strawberries for what seems like hours now, but it’s bearable under the setting sun and when you think about how good it will feel to finally sink into your bed.
“Y/N!” someone calls. “Princess!” you roll your eyes but stand up, turning around and putting your hand over your face to protect from the setting sun.
“Yeah?!” you shout back, squinting. You realize you’re alone in the fields.
“We’re heading back!” a Demeter girl, Sasha, says.
Your eyes flick to your basket that will only take a few more minutes to fill up.
“I’ll go back later!”
“Okay!” she shouts back, running off after everyone else.
You crouch back down, taking a deep breath before you begin ruffling through the leaves of the strawberry plant to find the juicy berries. You sneak a few as you work, shuffling down the line of plants. It’s so calm here. There’s no one to hurt. There’s nothing to be scared of.
When you stand up, there’s four figures standing by the shed. You gasp, bringing your hand to your chest, but Clarisse takes off her helmet.
“Princess?” she asks. “What’cha doin’ out here all alone?”
“Collecting strawberries,” you snort, full basket hitting your knees as you walk towards her.
“I see that,” she huffs. You notice Van behind her, and another sister, Carrie, a brother named Matty. “But what are you doin’ out here alone?”
You shrug, coming to a stop in front of the little group of Ares kids.
“Everyone else left.”
“It’s almost dark.”
“Not yet, though,” you smile sarcastically.
Carrie and Matty continue walking after they realize nothing fun is going to happen. You’re not gonna entertain them, so why would they care? But Clarisse and Van stay. You stare at Clarisse for a moment longer before finally looking away.
“You don’t have a weapon,” Van notes. “Smart to be out here alone?”
“Oh, relax,” you sigh. “We’re still in the barrier.”
You tighten your grip on the bucket and turn left, walking towards the shed. Clarisse is hot on your heels.
“And how do you know that? What if it had spontaneously, like, failed and shut down, or something.”
“Then I think everyone would be running around and screaming, because monsters would be crawling through camp. I would know.”
You place the bucket next to all the other buckets collected today- you’ll keep the good ones here over night, away from the animals and bugs and someone will collect them in the morning.
You stand up, rolling your wrists, wiping the sweat from your brow. You take the small cutters for the thicker branches from your pocket and throw it into the bin with the others.
“Well, if it makes you feel better, you can walk me back.”
“I jus’ think it’s stupid to be out here all alone,” she shrugs. You stare right past her, watching as the door slams shut. Was it windy?
Clarisse whips around, but sees it’s just the closed door. You frown, Clarisse steps forward.
“Sorry, Clarisse!” Van shouts from outside, and that’s when you hear the lock sliding into place. Your eyes widen as you realize what he’s done.
“Van, what the hell?!” Clarisse shouts, trying the knob. The door stays firmly shut. She slams her shoulder into it, but this place was built strong to protect from the elements, from all the little animals hungry for strawberries. “Let us out right fucking now, I swear, Van!”
“I can’t!” he says back, sounding sort of pained. “I just couldn’t get her alone!”
“Me?!” you yell, feeling increasingly trapped and claustrophobic. You shove Clarisse out of the way and rattle the doorknob, but it really is locked. “I didn’t do shit to you! Let me the fuck out!”
“For Carter!”
You take a step back. Your face falls from anger and anxiety into pure and utter turmoil. Your chest squeezes like it does every time you think about him. You carry the pain and the regret so heavily you doubt you’ll ever get rid of it. You’ll always be like this, rotting in your head, watching your beauty fade away and everyone give up on you.
Will you finally be free then? If you scream and take a knife to your face, make yourself unrecognizable, will everyone finally leave you alone then? Can you be something other than this stupid camp’s stupid princess?
But it’s wishful thinking. You’re a daughter of Aphrodite, and you were born to be beautiful, and you were born to be alone.
“Van, I’ll fucking kill you. Let. Us. Out.”
“Sorry!” he shouts, and you hear his footsteps in the dirt, running away while Clarisse screams for him to come back here.
You take a deep breath but it all comes crashing down like a dam breaking. All of the anger, the regret, the fear, it all comes pouring out until you’re sobbing into your hands in the middle of the shed.
Clarisse stops trying to break through the door. It’s painfully tense for a moment, nothing besides the crickets and the sounds of your sobs. You end up sitting on half-empty bags of fertilizer and mulch in the corner- although it’s not really used much, sometimes the Demeter kids like to experiment- it’s the most comfortable thing in this shed.
You’re 17 now, and you broke Carter’s heart when he was 13 and you were 12. You wake up and you feel your guilt like you feel the sun on your face- it’s your morning routine to stare at yourself in the mirror and know that you are the blessed one who doesn’t deserve it. You beg to be free, but this is your punishment.
“I’m sorry,” you cry out, “How does he not know I’m sorry?”
You never said it to him, of course- your siblings had told you Aphrodite would curse you if you said you were sorry, and you were 12 and scared so you shut up and you stared at him from afar, your first love and your first heartbreak. Could he not see the way you hated yourself? The way you hated everyone?
Why couldn’t anyone see that you weren’t a princess? You were a demon, so wicked you were worthy of being Hades’ right hand minion.
Clarisse sits down heavily next to you. She doesn’t say anything. She waits until the sobs start to ebb like a wave, until the worst is over.
“I’m sorry,” you say, one final time. Maybe the wind will take pity on you and carry your words to him. You wish it would, but why? Why do you deserve it? Your nails dig into your palms, leaving blood red moons.
“Why are you sorry?” Clarisse breathes, seeming more genuinely curious then demeaning. “Who’s Carter?”
You miss the way her lip curls around the name.
“I can’t tell you,” you moan, because Clarisse is the only person who actually gives half a fuck about you, and it feels so nice to have her eyes on you- not in the way everyone else does. They admire you, despise you, she appreciates you. She stares at you from afar and you both know that you want more, but she’s content to stare and you’re content to let her.
She laughs. “Yes, you can. I wouldn’t even care if you killed someone named Carter. But seeing as you escaped punishment from Chiron, and you only got locked in a shed, it’s probably not that bad.”
When you look up at her you can feel the mascara streaming down your face. You’re sure you look like a raccoon, and you can see how unnerving it is for her to see you- always so calm and put together- reduced to tears by a single name.
“I’m a daughter of Aphrodite, Clarisse.”
“I know,” she says, although it sounds like a question.
You stare at her, not able to say it, trying to convey to her with your eyes. You can practically see the cogs turning in her head as she thinks about the Aphrodite cabin.
“Oh,” she says. A few tears fall down your face. “The initiation thing- you have to break someone’s heart, right?”
“Yes,” you say, bitterly, resisting the urge to throw something and have a tantrum. You press your hands into your eyes, breathing heavily. “That stupid, stupid initiation. I hate being her daughter. I hate being like this.”
The hug starts out awkward. Clarisse places her arm lightly around your shoulders, starts mumbling apathetically that it’ll be okay. It’s not that she doesn’t care or anything, you’re both just foreign to what it’s like to feel this way for someone.
And it feels good to have someone touching you, so before you can stop yourself you’re shoving your way in her arms. She stiffens, sits up straight as your tears stain her orange camp shirt. But after a moment she hugs you back just as fiercely, with just as much desperation. She doesn’t say anything, probably because she doesn’t know what to say, and you can’t even comprehend your embarrassing, secret, unrealistic guilty pleasure of a crush is hugging you right now.
You’re too focused on the way she shushes you softly, her arm against your waist, the other around your shoulder- thumb drawing circles on your skin.
You’re too focused on the way she feels against you to even care about how awkward this will be later.
Finally, when night has really fallen and the wind starts to howl, you let go of Clarisse.
“Sorry,” you mumble, body locking up, staring firmly at the ground. Your face is caked in runny makeup- you feel as disgusting as you’re sure you look.
“It’s okay,” she says, hesitating for a moment before she stops touching you. “I, uh, I don’t think you should hate yourself.”
You scoff. Both at the ridiculousness of her stuttering and what she’s saying. “Whatever,” you mumble.
“No, I’m being serious.” She seems a little firmer now, like she really believes what she’s saying. But she doesn’t know you. “You shouldn’t hate yourself. Like, what do you even mean, you “hate being like this?’ What’s this?”
“I’m a monster, Clarisse. Literally, a fucking monster. I’m a horrible person, and yet everyone walks around and calls be princess because, what? I’m pretty? You can still be Aphrodite’s favorite and a monster. Maybe I am her favorite for a reason. Because of what I did.”
“A monster? Really?”
She looks at you like you’re the stupidest girl in the world. And Gods, coming from someone like Clarisse does that hurt.
You stare her down like you’re not about to cry. You squint so the tears won’t come, digging your nails into your palms to distract from the feeling in your stomach.
“I asked him to meet me at night. He told me he thought he loved me, and I laughed in his fucking face and said how could he ever think that I would love him? Who does that? Who is so fucked in the head?”
You look at her face, slightly twinged with disgust, and it feels good. It feels good to drive someone else away. To save them from yourself.
“This is my punishment. My life. And I hate it, but I know it’s what’s meant for me. I’ll never be loved. No matter how beautiful I am. I won’t let myself, I won’t hurt someone else. I don’t deserve it.”
She grabs your hand. You look at her, and she’s still so disgusted, so why is she touching you? Why is her face morphing into concern? Why does she still look at you like you’re this precious thing? Why do you like it? Why do you crave her like air?
“You don’t deserve this,” she says.
Why isn’t she listening to you?
“I don’t, Clarisse. Just- jus’ stop, please.”
But it finally hits you why she’s so disgusted. It’s not what you did, it’s the way you think about yourself.
“You came to camp when you were 12, right, so that’s when you completed your initiation? So, you were 12. You were 12 and listening to your older siblings. You were 12 and you made a mistake, and you’ve spent years and years punishing yourself over it. Most of the people at camp are blind, Y/N, but I’m not. I see the way you treat yourself, and that- you just don’t deserve that.”
“Fine,” you mumble, feeling a little breathless. “Maybe I was 12. But it’s too late. Everyone at camp thinks I’m a bitchy fucking princess.”
She smiles. “Well, you are.”
You throw her hand off of you and pretend to glare at her, but you’re smiling.
“You are a princess, Y/N, let me help you see it.”
Clarisse is your secret crush. She was a comfort for lonely nights, someone to think about when you were eating alone at dinner. And it didn’t help that she would stare at you while you imagined her sitting across from you. Clarisse is your secret crush, locked up in your chest and waiting to burst out like a cuckoo clock.
Clarisse is your secret crush, unrealistic and wishful thinking- but the way she looks at you right now makes it real.
The door clicks open.
“Oh,” Sasha, the girl yelling at you earlier says. “Sorry- I forgot my… uh…”
You quickly stand up, pushing Clarisse away from you. Sasha moves to the side and let’s you through the door. Against your better judgement, you stop and look over your shoulder.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“See you tomorrow, princess.”
—-
The next day, after waking up and realizing what happened yesterday wasn’t a bad dream, Clarisse is really doing something this sweet for you, you’re ready to forget it all ever happened and sit alone as you usually do.
You stand at the edge of the pavilion, searching across the tables for an empty one-
“Y/N!” Clarisse yells. She looks at you expectantly, and you notice the empty seat next to her.
Oh. She wants you to sit with her.
As beautiful and sweet Clarisse is, you still can’t let her be anything more than your secret crush. But you can sit with her for one meal. You can pretend, and maybe that will hold you over when you eventually succeed in pushing her away.
Your head was clouded by her touch, her smell, her voice- you weren’t in the right state of mind to be making decisions about “seeing Clarisse tomorrow.”
You stop at the fire pit in the middle of the pavilion.
“Please, Mom,” you mutter, dumping almost all of your plate into the flames.
This is probably the first time you’ve really prayed to her since the day you broke Carter’s heart.
You set your tray down next to her, swinging your legs over the bench and under the table, settling yourself in. Her siblings don’t even look up, all busy eating identical bagel sandwiches- you squint, resisting the urge to laugh at the cheese, bacon, sausage, and eggs. Ares kids are always eating the most gluttonous foods, seeing as they train 24/7.
Clarisse glares at your plate.
“What?” you say, shifting awkwardly in your seat.
“That is not enough food.” And while your plate mostly is empty space, you’re really not that hungry this morning.
You shrug. “I was in a praying mood today.”
“Don’t care, go get more.”
You roll your eyes, but you’d be lying if you said her concern didn’t make your stomach twist in a good way.
“Okay, I’ll grab something on my way out.”
She hums, turning back to your sandwich. All of her siblings are intent on eating their big sandwiches, a few people at the end of the table talk in between bites- but the Ares kids take breakfast very seriously. They’re a bit more rowdy at lunch and dinner, but breakfast is always such a sordid affair, like someone died.
Someone else sits at the table. You look up from your plate, watching as Van digs into his sandwich, sporting a black eye, a bruised cheek, and a busted lip.
“Oh,” you mumble, cringing at his bloody, messy face.
You look over at Clarisse, notice her knuckles are split open. She feels you looking at her and turns to you, a bite of half-chewed sandwich in her mouth.
“Wha-” she starts, but catches Van out of the corner of her eye. She giggles, just a bit, and it makes your stomach twist. “Oh, Van, you are one of the funniest people I have ever met.”
Everyone at the table turns to him.
A few giggle at his busted up face, Clarisse smiles at him in that demeaning way she’s famous for.
“Move.”
“I’m not fuckin’ movin’, Clarisse. Go fuck yourself.”
One of her siblings laughs loudly. Matty, you recognize him. “Dude, you’re seriously going to get beat up- again.”
“You are,” Clarisse shrugs. “I’m serious, move.”
Van rolls his eyes and sets his sandwich down.
“Listen, Carter’s my friend, he never wanted to get revenge, but I wanted to get it for him. I know it’d make him feel better. I was tryin’ to convince him to go fuck up her bed or something when… well, yeah. I didn’t mean to trap you in there with her, Clarisse, okay? I know you’re fuckin’ obsessed with her, whatever, but she’s a serious bitch. And not even that hot.”
Matty puts his head in his hands.
The table is deathly silent. He looks around.
“Come on. All those Aphrodite kids are stuck-up bitches, but she’s just got a particular rudeness about her, huh? And, really, I don’t think I could fuck her even if the world was ending.”
“What the fuck,” someone across from you, Max, mumbles. A girl adjacent to you coos softly, and you realize that there’s tears falling down your face.
Clarisse puts her hand on your thigh.
“Van,” she says, her voice calm and even. She breathes in and out. “I am going to fucking kill you.”
Van looks over to Clarisse, and that’s when he finally notices you sitting next to her.
“I-” he starts, but doesn’t get to finish, not when you pick up your tray and throw it across the table- hitting him directly in the nose. “Holy fuck!” he shouts. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Gods, fuck-”
You stand up and make your way around the table, tears clouding your vision, and he quickly stands up as well. No one makes any move to hold you back or protect him.
“Bitch,” he hisses. “Huh? Come at me, princess.”
And you meet him, attacking like a feral cat, all scratching and kicking and hitting, a fury fueled fully by your anger and the beauty in letting it all go. He grunts and tries to hit you back, but they barely touch you.
You can see Clarisse out of the corner of your eye, watching closely, arms crossed over her chest. It takes you a second, but for some reason, you can see her face so clearly. She’s slightly worried. She watches the fight with an intensity, like she’s happy to let you fight him- but if he actually hurts you, then she’ll jump in. But more importantly, she’s proud.
Gods, does it make you feel good.
“Fucking- bitch!” he shouts. “Get off of me!”
He pushes you back, you steel yourself. When he sees you coming at him again, he punches you hard. You swear you see stars. You swear you almost met Hades, just for a second.
Blood runs down your face, gushing like a geyser- you groan, one of Clarisse’s siblings making you pinch your nose and tilt your head back. Matty puts his hand on your shoulder, and mutters something encouraging about keeping your head back.
It’s all a daze.
“Clarisse!” her sister Carrie shouts, trying to hold her back while Van scrambles away on the ground, yelling incoherently about his teeth. “Clarisse! Clarisse! You got him, you got him, c’mon.”
It all comes rushing over you. Adrenaline kept you sane just for moment, but all the pain comes rushing back, and you almost scream with how much it hurts. You double down, chest pressing to your stomach while Matty and someone else try desperately to pull you back upward.
“Oh, Gods, why does it hurt so bad?” you say, more blood gushing forward, even through your fingers. It’s running down your neck and chest, permanently ruining your shirt.
“Van has a good right hook,” Matty winces. “Ass at everything else, but.”
“Y/N,” Clarisse says. She’s in front of you in a moment, hands under your chin, forcing you to tilt your head back. You can feel your face is absolutely covered in blood. “Hey, it’s alright,” she says, so softly that you’re the only one who can hear. “Okay, I’ll take you to the infirmary, okay?”
Matty let’s go of you, Clarisse replaces him, arm wrapping around your waist, fingertips still keeping your chin up. You walk in silence until you reach the infirmary.
She chuckles a bit. “You’re good,” she says.
“At what?” you groan, eyes screwed shut. “Getting punched?”
“No,” she says. “Just… you’re good.”
One of the healers rushes over before you can even think of an answer.
—-
After your nose was reset, your shirt was changed, and all the blood was cleaned- you sat in the empty infirmary. Van was in a private room with most of the healers who were having a fun time trying to fix his face and do something with the teeth Clarisse knocked out.
She finds you slipping your shoes on, face puffy, a bag of ambrosia in your hand.
“Princess,” she says. “I told them it was all me. So, you’re fine. I made up some shit about you getting caught in the crossfire.”
Your chest deflates a bit. You were sort of looking forward to the punishment. “You didn’t have to do that, Clarisse.”
She shrugs. “I wanted to. And I do whatever I want.”
You smile, and she sits down next to you on the creaky bed.
“What’d you get?”
“Oh,” she sighs, hands on her knees. “5 months no dessert. 3 months of teaching sword practice to the little kids, that’s gonna be like Tartarus come again.”
“Sorry,” you mumble. “It’s all my fault.”
“I could have easily let the two of you beat each other to death. But I didn’t. You were too busy winning that fight to care about what I was doing.”
“I didn’t win,” you scoff. “If you didn’t jump in, the way he punched me, he got me.”
“You didn’t know about Van and his right hook,” she shrugs. “It’s okay. I fucked up his face a bit, but you did so much better.”
You’ve been permanently on the edge of tears because of the pressure in your nose, so when they spill over, it’s no surprise.
“W-why are you crying?” Clarisse asks, turning slightly towards you, placing her hand on your arm.
“Still a monster,” you remark, sarcastic smile on your face. “I shouldn’t have done that to him. I… I was just mad. And look, here I am escaping with no punishment yet again.”
You go to stand up, feeling like your heart is a hole in your chest.
She puts her hand on your thigh to stop you.
“I think… just the fact that you feel so bad means you’re not a monster. I don’t feel shit for Van. I’m glad he got hurt. I would do it again. I hope I get to do it again.”
“You’re horrible, Clarisse,” you smile. She smiles back.
“The only person I feel bad for is… you. You’re the only person I’ve ever felt bad for. Everyone else in this camp is blind, Y/N. But I’m not. Not when it comes to you.”
And it’s like you’re seeing her for the first time. The way her curls always stick up in that one place, the way her eyes reflect the sunlight streaming through the window, the way the rough skin of her hands is nothing compared to the bones inside that hold you so softly. The way her lips look. The way she calls you princess. The way she sees you.
You’re both leaning forward, you’re both just teenage girls learning to love themselves, because you’ve always loved each other.
When her lips finally meet yours it all comes rushing back to you. You gasp and pull away after just a moment.
“Sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that-”
Clarisse grabs your face and kisses you.
“You’re not deleting that. I don’t care what you think of yourself right now,” she whispers, lips against yours. “Because you’re wrong, and I’m going to show you.”
And against your better judgement, you let her show you. She shows you with her hands in your hair, her hands on your neck, on your face, her lips against yours. You let her teach you love with just one kiss, and you decide you have a newfound appreciation for your mother.
If love feels this good, this beautiful, then you’ve been missing out.
This goes against everything you’ve been preaching for years. But you’ve found a new religion in her, you promise to listen to her and to feel what she makes you feel- no matter how wrong you think it is. Clarisse shows you it’s not wrong.
She finally pulls away for air, searching your eyes, but you can’t breathe when she’s not kissing you. She seems to like what she finds, because she smiles.
“You’re beautiful, princess,” she mutters, and kisses you again. “You’re beautiful, and you’re so kind, and I’ll show you what I’ve seen for years.”
Everyone calls you princess. But Clarisse says it differently. Clarisse says it like she’s caressing the word, pretending to caress you. Clarisse says it in the way you want her to say it, in the way that selfishly makes you feel so, so special. Clarisse says it like she knows you.
You were right. You’re not meant for love, it’s not meant for you. You’re meant for Clarisse.
—-
carter watching literally everyone fight over smth ridiculously stupid that happened when he was 12 and he got over 2 weeks after it happened: uh 🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️
—-
clarisse when she realizes y/n hates herself: WHAT????? HOW IS THIS???? HUH????? like she just doesn’t even understand she can’t comprehend it
y/n after hating herself for like 5 years and pretending she’s chill: 🤗
—-
van after he loses his teeth: 😞
clarisse when van loses his teeth: LETS GO FUCK THAT BITCH
—-
clarisse being y/n’s new religion btw 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭
—-
taglist:
@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish
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cryiling · 5 months ago
Text
thinking about that bkdk edating in middle school trope, except they're amino boyfriends 💀
they meet on an all might amino community. katsuki is one of the community mods, and izuku is the leader of an analysis club on there. izuku's posts were often featured and very popular in the community (he was def a microcelebrity), and katsuki always gave him a ton of amino coins on his posts.
for a challenge he's hosting for his club, izuku makes a huge deep-dive post analyzing all might's rise to fame in his bronze age. this post gets close to 10k likes, and katsuki gifts him 5k amino coins on the post. when izuku sees that number, he freaks out and assumes it must be a mistake since that's a huge number, who in their right mind would give him that much money??
he messages katsuki (who's username is 𝓓𝔂𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 ⛓️💥) (LMAOOOOO) and asks if the amount of coins was a mistake + offers to give them back. katsuki tells him that there was no mistake, and that he just really liked izuku's post. izuku is really flattered that this guy liked his analysis so much, and they continue texting back and forth for a while.
they follow each other and put each other in their bios under "bffs," and a month or two after that, they officially become boyfriends. izuku buys amino+ using all the coins katsuki had given him (katsuki keeps spending his allowance to buy more amino coins so he's super rich). they start matching profile themes after that, switching to a new theme every month. they have matching profile frames and chat bubbles and everything, and izuku makes a sticker pack of all might faces to use when texting katsuki (sometimes katsuki uses the stickers too, but only when texting izuku)
everyone on all might amino knows they're dating, since they're both such high-profile people in the community. they become the community's it-couple, and people love commenting on their walls how cute their matching profiles are. katsuki comments under all of izuku's posts praising his analysis, and izuku always replies with a string of all might heart-eye stickers.
6 months into their relationship, izuku tells katsuki he can call him by his real name. up until now, izuku had gone by the nickname "golden" in honor of all might's golden age. when izuku tells katsuki his name, though, he doesn't get a response. the next day, izuku wakes up to find that katsuki's profile has been deleted entirely.
izuku feels like throwing up. he doesn't know what happened to dynamight, if he caused this, what could have caused this. he debates deleting his account too, ashamed and confused and hurt, but ultimately decides against it. he changes his profile theme back to an aesthetic picture set of all might in his iconic golden age pose, and continues posting on all might amino as if nothing happened. he doesn't reach out to new people on amino again.
when izuku gets into ua and his workload drastically increases, he stops finding time to post on amino, eventually deleting the app entirely (his profile stays up, though).
in second year, izuku is sitting in the common room with his friends, somehow having been roped into a conversation about dating. "you've never been in a relationship before, have you, deku-kun?" uraraka asks him.
his friends' eyes all focus on him, and he blushes. "well, i had an online boyfriend in middle school, but i'm not sure if that counts." his friends gape at him, clearly surprised. some other people lingering about in the common area also tune into the conversation. katsuki is one of them.
"really, midoriya-kun?" iida says, doing his best to hide his blatant shock. "i must say, that sounds rather out of character for you!"
"did you guys break up or something?" todoroki asks.
izuku grimaces, remembering what happened. "i told him my real name, and then he deleted his account. i think it was because of my name, but I guess i don't know for sure."
uraraka frowns. "that sucks! he didn't deserve you anyway. what an asshole move." the rest of izuku's friends nod in agreement at that. out of the corner of his eye, izuku sees katsuki get up from his armchair and storm out of the room.
months later, izuku and katsuki finally start dating for real. izuku is so overwhelmed with happiness, and katsuki's eyes light up every time he sees izuku. one night, though, katsuki pulls him aside. "there's something i need to tell you."
izuku frowns in confusion. "what's up?"
katsuki takes a deep breath. "...i'm dynamight."
this does not clear izuku's confusion. "um... yeah, i know what your hero name is."
"no, it's-" katsuki cuts himself off, then starts again. "i was dynamight on amino, too."
izuku feels his heart drop. he's not sure what katsuki is saying, why he's bringing it up. "you... we were... you mean we dated back in middle school?"
katsuki nods, eyes on the floor. he doesn't say anything else.
"why did you..." izuku licks his lips in apprehension. "why did you delete your account?"
katsuki is silent for a moment. "i freaked out when i found out who you were," he finally says. "i mean, you know how i was treating you in real life back then. and we had been texting all that time, and i had been comforting you from the bullying you were going through, only to realize it was me who was- i didn't... i didn't know what to say. and obviously i was really immature at the time and wasn't ready to process my feelings yet. but that whole thing helped me realize my feelings for you, even though i didn't want to accept that at the time.
"but," katsuki continues, clearly on a roll now, "that still doesn't excuse what i did. it was a shitty move. and i know i've apologized for how i bullied you before, but i'm sorry for this, too, izuku. i know i hurt your feelings. i swear i'll be a better boyfriend this time, i promise. uh- only if... if you still want to be together."
izuku can't even think of what to say for a moment, still silently reeling at katsuki's confession. eventually he says, "no, i- i get it. we were both pretty immature at the time, and to be honest i kind of got over it a while ago. but," he smiles, "that apology really means a lot to me. and of course i still want to be with you."
he leans in to kiss katsuki briefly. izuku doesn't think he'll ever get used to that.
katsuki rests his forehead against izuku's, eyes taking in izuku's face. "i swear i'll be an even better boyfriend than dynamight was, golden."
and then they lived happily ever after :>
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cheolaholic · 1 year ago
Text
ring of love; csc (01)
summary; agreeing to join vernon spectate an underground boxing match wasn't how you'd expect to spend your friday night. you also didn't expect to see seungcheol, someone you've lost contact with for years, become a part of the ring.
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modern! au • boxer! au • hhu focused • multiple kinds of tropes • fluff, angst, smut
a/n; AND THE FIC IS OUT 💃🏻✨
ngl, i posted up the teaser at around 1am just to see how it'd go (was planning on deleting it right afterwards if nothing showed up). i woke up like 6 or 7 hours later and holy shit yall - i wasn't expecting it to get so much attention or blow up 😭 and it was just a TEASER 😭✋🏻 i've also gone through the small notes section of the taglist form (my favorite is the one that said they like my brain lol) either ways, i'm so glad you're all as excited as i am for this fic 🥹🫶🏻 it really means a lot to me <33
i'd also like to point out that i'm writing this fic as i go, kind of going with the flow, so, occasionally some things might not make sense but let's hope the flow goes well 🙏🏻
taglist at the end !
click here to join the taglist ♡
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“hey there, babygirl,” vernon greeted as he took a seat in front of you at the library desk.
the nickname had you looking up from your laptop, shooting the boy a grimacing look.
“vernon, what the fuck?”
vernon chwe, an art major you had met on the first day of college during orientation, since both of you were in the same freshman group during said orientation.
you were entirely new to seoul, having spent most of your life in a small town in daegu (alongside your introverted nature, talking to new people while having to adjust to your new surroundings was basically an introvert’s nightmare).
when vernon approached you during one of the 30 minute breaks, he handed you a bottle of coke, a friendly gesture you appreciated a lot. that wasn’t what caught your eye though - it was his clothes. it’s not every day you’d see a college student wearing a bright neon tie-dyed shirt.
when vernon noticed your staring, he simply said “ah, yeah, the rest of my clothes are in the dryer. i’m vernon, by the way! vernon chwe!”
“...i’m ___,” came your response, “lee ___.”
from then on, you’ve both been stuck to each other like glue. always seen together to the point you both had been mistaken as a couple one too many times.
guess the saying of 'you're not real besties unless people think you're a couple' is true to an extent.
though you both have made it clear that the relationship between the two of you is strictly platonic.
the boy laughs at your reaction before shutting up as a few students shoot him a dirty look, a few others shushing him. “it’s fun messing with you, ___,” he said in a soft voice, not wanting to get on the nerves of the other students, “watcha working on?”
“just the usual presentation preparations,” you answered as you pushed back up your glasses and continued typing away.
“is this a group or solo project?”
“solo, which thank god. if this was a group and i had another bad luck on my groupmates, i was going to lose it.”
vernon cringes at the mention of groupmates. in your previous group assignment, you were stuck with not one, not two; but three parasites. he remembered how sleep deprived and stressed you were throughout the semester for said group project. he’d gotten you to submit an email to the lecturer in charge, writing out in extreme detail how you had to bear the responsibilities of the group members while they were out and about, partying, going out on dates etc.
however, you decided to go even further than just submitting an email.
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it was the day of the presentation. as your lecturer sat in the front row seat alongside two other faculty members, you looked at your parasitic freeloading groupmates that were standing to your left.
“are you guys ready?” you asked in a quiet voice.
when they nodded their heads, you smiled as you pressed the clicker in your hand. anyone would have assumed your smile was that of an encouraging smile. you however, knew better.
as the first slide was projected onto the projection screen, the topic of the presentation was written in a big font while all four names of yours and your groupmates were written underneath it.
as you pressed on the clicker, one by one, the names of your groupmates began to be removed from the slide. the classroom was confused before catching on - you were calling out your group mates for being parasites.
your groupmates watched in a panic state as the students began whispering amongst themselves; the faculty members jotting things down on their clipboards.
once all the three names were removed with your name being the only one left on the slide, in a calm and collected voice, you said, “now, shall we begin the presentation?”
vernon remembered the proud expression you had when he met up with you the same day. “how’d it feel?” he asked, having helped you with your research and planned out the execution for the revelation of the free loaders.
“amazing!” came your reply with a beaming smile, satisfied.
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“whatever happened to those three anyways?”
shrugging, you heard from some classmates that they had either gotten suspended or needed to retake the class. but, you didn’t care.
why would you?
if anything, you were glad you didn't have to deal with them for the rest of your studying years.
"hmm, fair enough," vernon responded before placing both arms on the table, leaning forward, "so, got any friday night plans?"
"if you're planning to drag me to a frat party-"
"not a frat party."
looking up from your laptop with an eyebrow raised, the boy just shoots you a smile - a smile that you can't help but feel suspicious of.
as you saved your work progress and shut down your laptop, vernon spoke again.
"have you heard of underground boxing?"
"i am not going to get in a boxing ring."
"you don't have to!"
once you've packed up your stuff and headed out of the library together, he explained more about the underground boxing.
it's a monthly event and is usually held somewhere in itaewon. when you mentioned that you didn't think vernon was the type to take part in these events, he replied with, "that's because i don't. a close friend of mine does and i usually go to support him with two other close friends!"
"and where do i play a part in this… support group?"
"don't hate me for this, okay? i just think that you could use some outdoor time, ya'know? i know you're introverted and want to hole up in your apartment the entire weekend, but it wouldn't hurt to try something new!"
you were silent for a moment.
"so, i'm a bore, is what you're getting at."
"what!? no! absolutely, not!"
when you let out a laugh at vernon's reaction, it had a few students around both of you stunned.
maybe it's due to your introverted nature that everyone assumed you'd be cold-natured too, black cat energy they call it.
but to vernon, he knew it wasn't the case. you just needed to be around the right people or in a setting you're familiar/comfortable with to be yourself.
'naturally introverted, selectively extroverted' as they called it.
"i'll go if you pick me up."
"does seven sound good to you?"
"yeap."
"aight, bet."
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introverted ass: ik i should've asked this earlier
introverted ass: but is there like a dress code or smtg?
introverted ass: bcs i don't wanna show up looking extremely out of place
vrrnonie: casual should be okay
vrrnonie: maybe bring a jacket along
introverted ass: but it's a boxing match
introverted ass: wouldn't it be hot and stuffy from all that sweat
introverted ass: ?
vrrnonie: it's actually air conditioned, believe it or not
vrrnonie: and it's well ventilated too
vrrnonie: and there's not much people, dont worry
vrrnonie: the place can hold up to 100+ ppl
vrrnonie: but they usually only let in abt 70-ish?
vrrnonie: not wanting to be too stuffy, crowd control etc
introverted ass: so i'm assuming i can just wear my sweater and tights?
vrrnonie: yeapp
vrrnonie: reaching in 10 btw
introverted ass: wtf
vrrnonie: you can do your makeup in the car when we reach
vrrnonie: it doesn't start til 10pm so we can grab some dinner
introverted ass: again, wtf
vrrnonie: love ya bestie 😘
introverted ass: 🙄✋🏻
true to his word, vernon did show up ten minutes later at your apartment front door.
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parking his mercedes-benz in one of the few empty spots, he then brought you to a diner he deemed to have the best burger in all of itaewon (of course that was after he let you finish doing your makeup, as he had promised you).
"so… how long have your friends been doing this whole underground boxing thing?" you asked, stabbing a few fries on a fork before shoving them into your mouth.
"oh, just one of them actually," vernon replied with his mouth half full of his beef burger. "wonwoo hyung acts as the manager while mingyu hyung and i are there as first aiders. occasionally, we'd help him train too. but, mingyu is the one he trains with since he works out more than i do."
"does this boxer friend of yours have a name?"
"i can't really say his actual name out here. but, his stage name is scoups!"
why does that stage name sound so familiar… you ponder.
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it's now 1230am and you've been out way longer than you should be (technically, more like longer than you wanted).
by right, shou should now be on your bed, cuddled up in your blanket as you binge whatever series or movies are available on the many streaming platforms offered.
yet, here you are - in an underground boxing ring somewhere in itaewon all because your best friend had decided you should spend more time outside.
the match was nearing its final round and based on what you've heard from the people sitting beside you (vernon had left to go to the locker rooms where his friends were; but had assured you everyone is respectable and won't try anything weird. it didn't reassure you completely to be left alone in the crowd, but any kind of reassurance is acceptable at this point), it seems that the two final boxers would be JK and scoups.
(you had also taken a lot of toilet breaks due to the overwhelming feeling of being in a crowd for an extended period of time)
you still ask yourself why the name 'scoups' sound so familiar…
it was only when the loud cheers snapped you out of your thoughts, causing you to shift your focus onto the ring that you finally realise why that name sounded so familiar.
because right in that boxing ring, stood an old face you've been longing to see for years.
choi seungcheol.
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taglist (i can't tag a few for some reason ㅠㅠ);
@yoonclip @1004luvangel @catjunhui @mystikha @spk93 @tinkerbell460 @yoozuku @dnylwoo @christinewithluv @limbomoon @plutoxxxworld @i-give-up-1234 @m1ngyuc0re @yunloyal @leclercloverbot @bettybeako @billboard-singer @ocyeanicc @krupyadoorrahe @seobinnieshi @xcynthiaaa @k411z @disneyprincesshuri @sunnyapp @khxsh @staygenezy @loufi8iepuff @ursweetener @noisypapergalaxy @wonwootakemyheart @sugainpinksweater @leah-rose03 @thisisnotthelastofus @yearnoclock
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hiiikiko · 2 months ago
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hi hi hi
can you do brothers bff!ellie x reader? maybe they met as children and ellie was close with readers brother, but always saw r as a nuisance. until r went away to boarding school or something and came back a few years later, and ellie begins to develop a crush on her? idk i thinks this would be cute for her 🥰
𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖, 𝕟𝕠 𝕤𝕖𝕖
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brother’s best friend!ellie x reader | tlou m.list
[a/n:] i love this trope so much, thank you for submitting this ask! also LMAO this went so off base but I like this too much to delete it and It’s too much work to copy and paste every god damn sentence bc tumblr makes that so fuckin’ hard but uh yeah thanks :P
Synopsis: Ellie and you had something goin on.. but it’s been years since the two of you have seen each other..
tw: angst
⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹
SUNDAY
Ellie was your childhood friend, uh, actually that’d be a lie.. she was your brother’s best friend.. but same difference.. I mean, your mom would force your darling big brother, Jesse, to take you everywhere with him.. like, come on, it was free babysitting and it was killing two birds with one stone. Not only was your mom getting free babysitting, she was also able to kick your reckless brother out for a few hours. So everyday for a few hours after school, your brother would drag you along to football games, lacrosse games, basketball games.. ugh, so many sports.. You didn’t always look forward to it, but.. there was one upside to them..
Ellie Williams.
Ellie was your next door neighbour. She was pretty, smart, introverted, and a troublemaker. Sure, she graduated valedictorian and was an all-star on the girl’s lacrosse and basketball and volleyball team but god, did she cause her fair share of trouble.. including, making you fall for her. Although, you were sure Ellie completely hated your guts. She always called you ‘squirt,’ given that you were much smaller than her when the two of you were kids. She would always groan when she saw you tag along with Jesse, smacking his arm and glaring back at you, silently saying ‘Why the fuck did you bring her?” To which Jesse would reply with a sly smirk and a shrug.
Now, it wasn’t your plan to fall for her.. but come on, it was inevitable. She was your brother’s best friend, that’s like the forbidden fruit in the garden of eden! How could you pass that up, hm? But, before you could ever confess to her.. you were shipped off to a catholic all girl’s school because your mom thought that these thoughts about girls weren’t very christian-like. You came back every now and then but it was easier to spend breaks at your Aunt’s house, it was closer to the school and besides, what was the point of coming back? You weren’t very popular in your hometown, you lived in your brother’s shadow. He was an all-star in practically every sport, smart, constantly made the papers for his footaball games.. so did Ellie and you never really felt like you belonged with them, or your town for that matter. In boarding school, you had no one to be compared to. You were actually quite popular, you joined quite a few clubs, even became head of the Newspaper Club and graduated valedictorian. You were doing pretty good on your own, then soon.. you were off to college.
It was the beginning of fall when you finally decided to pay your mom and brother a visit, you were on thanksgiving break.
“Alright, bye Lila! See ya, Chris!” you waved at the retreating volkswagen van belonging to your two best friends from school, rooted in the ground as you watched it disappear round a corner.
You let out a deep sigh as you tuned on your heel to face your childhood home, it felt like forever since you’d been back.. sure, you came back sometimes but.. still, it had been, like, three years. You were now a sophomore i college, you had left when you were a senior in high school.
You couldn’t help but sneak a glance at Ellie’s house, Joel’s truck was in the garage. Joel was a nice guy, he’d always fix your mom’s car for free. You and Jesse really did like him, at one point, the two of you even tried hooking your mom up with him but.. that all came crashing down when your mom found out and sentenced the two of you to yard work for the next week.
“Hey, Joel,” you say to the pair of boots under the old Chevy, drumming your fingers on the hood.
The sound of tools turning comes to a halt as the pair of boots soon slides down to reveal the person the pair of boots belonged to.. Ellie.
“Oh, sorry.. I-I thought you were Joel,” you stuttered out, Ellie’s fierce gaze piercing right through you.
“Yeah? Well, you thought wrong,” she grumbled, using her teeth to pull off her gloves and wiping some grease off her face, “Long time, no see.. what do you want?”
God, you haven’t even been home for more than five minutes and the new you was already melting away under her gaze, you felt like you were 17 again.
“Nothing, just.. wanted to say hi,” you mumble and leave her there, sitting on the sliding board.
You couldn’t see it but, you could feel her hungry gaze watching your every move as you left the driveway. You couldn’t tell if she was watching you out of curiosity or.. something else.
MONDAY
Sunday went by like a breeze, you and your mom caught up over dinner, you and Jesse caught up by not catching up.
Today, you decided to look for a part-time job. You just needed enough cash to get you a one-way ticket back outta here and you didn’t want to burden your Aunt with the costs.
After visiting a multitude of stores, you ran into Joel at the gas station. He mentioned how he was looking for a receptionist and you practically threw yourself at the opportunity.
“Alright, alright, you got the job,” he chuckled, taking a sip from his gas station coffee, letting out a satisfied hum at the taste. This man sure did love his coffee, “Can you start tomorrow?”
You beaned, “Yes, sir, I can.”
He nodded and tapped your trucks hood, “Make sure to bring this ol’ boy by, I promised your mom a free oil change in exchange for her cookin’ me a few dishes a month.”
You giggled, “Will do.”
TUESDAY
“Hey, I’m here for the job,” you said to the guy at the front desk, a older gentleman, he reeked of weed, his eyes glazed over.
“Uh, okay, let me get the other manager.”
You nodded, leaving the desk to look around the old shop, it smelled of gasoline, leaving a metallic taste in your mouth.
“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”
Your blood ran cold as you realized who that low, raspy voice belonged to, “Mornin’ to you, too, Ellie.”
She rolled her eyes, leaning against the desk and tucking her pen behind her ear, “You’re the new girl?”
You nod, trying not to let your smile falter, “Yep, that’s me.”
She rolled her eyes again, “Alright, follow me.”
You jog to keep up with her while she introduces you to all the mechanics, turns out the mechanic you met earlier is named Eugene. They were all happy to see a fresh new face, some even asking if that car out front was yours and if anythin’ were to go wrong, that you knew where to find them, much to Ellie’s annoyance.
“Well, that’s all? Any questions?” and before you could say yes, she slammed her office door closed.
“Same as always, I see,” you mumbled and set yourself down at the desk, familiarizing yourself with the outdated equipment. You didn’t like how close your desk was to her office, it was suffocating.
FRIDAY
By Friday, you had completely reorganized their computer systems to be a little more efficient and their files as well. Ellie didn’t say good job or anything, she just nodded and criticized every little mistake you made. Joel, on the other had, would knock her upside the head every time he caught her saying something a little too mean, then would apologize for his daughter’s behaviour and shower you with compliments.
Besides Ellie’s annoying remarks, work was actually going pretty smoothly.
You were finishing up some paperwork when you heard the door to the garage swing open, she had on her overalls and was covered in grease and oil, just like the first day when you came back.
“Y/n, pull your truck in, Joel wants me to change the oil or whatever she grumbled, wiping her cheek, trying to rid it of the grease but actually, she just made it worse. You couldn’t stop your heart from fluttering at the sight.. there’s just something about a woman covered in car oil that does it for you..
You nod, “Alright.”
You spent the last 40 minutes talking on the phone with your old schoolmates, laughing about how they got back home.
“Sooo.. Y/n, have you heard from Abby?” your friend, Lila, giggled as she was pushed out of frame by her sister, Chris.
You groan and lean back into your chair, “God, no. I haven’t heard from her since that night,” you rub your face with your hand, trying to conceal the embarrassment.
The two girls on the other end giggled and begin to fangirl over Abby.
“Ugh, I don’t know why you don’t want her anymore!” Lila began.
“She was totally perfect, like.. you landed a lacrosse player.. that’s every girl’s dream-“ “ Not to mention how muscular she was? LIke, uh, drool??”
You rolled your eyes, “Okay, I admit she was perfect—.”
The garage door slams and in comes Ellie, looking especially pissed off, “Can you shut the fuck up? It’s hard to work when you’re being so god damn loud.”
She wandered into frame, you could practically read what Lila and Chris were thinking, their eyes screamed ‘do me.’
You rolled your eyes and hung up your phone, “Fuck, Ellie. You’re such a fuckin’ killjoy.”
Ellie laughed, walking over to your desk, spinning around your chair, putting her arms on either side of the arm rests, “You’re such a pain in the ass,” and for a split second, you could swear her eyes flickered down to your lips.
SATURDAY
Saturday night, Dina invited you out with her and Jesse to the local bar. Country music blasted through the speakers and the sound of beer bottles thinking set the tone along with the cheap cigarette smoke.
“Thank god they don’t card, huh,” Dina smirked at you, you laughed. Jesse rushed off to the bar to get the three of you some beers.
The two of them watched you slam down your first beer, a little too fast for them to know it was your first.
“What? Boarding School isn’t as strict if you know how to get around the rules and alarms,” you giggled.
You soon had enough liquid courage in you to make your way onto the dance floor, swinging your way into the arms of guys and girls, alike.
“Uh.. testing.. 1…2..3,” the crowd came to a sudden halt, you followed their gaze. You saw Ellie on stage, a young mechanic you knew, and a guy you didn’t know too well stood behind her. She held her hand up above her eyes to shield them from the harsh stage light. She looked.. well, hot.. she wore some wranglers, steel-toed cowboy boots, and a nice black long sleeve button up, her brown cowboy hat rested atop her head, bringing out the green in her eyes, “Well, tonight, we got some new songs for y’all.”
Her set was pretty amazing, the crown obviously loved her and her voice was very, very good.
“Alright, before we call it a night, we got one more song.. we’ll be covering I Wonder Do You Think of Me,” you couldn’t really tell but you were sure she was staring directly at you, but that was ridiculous, you were sure she couldn’t see anything through that blaring light.
She started, “If you drive around, back in our old hometown.. I wonder, do you think of me?” her voice sounded full of hurt, almost like it was breaking.
The dance floor was full of cowboys and cowgirls moving their bodies in since, in beautiful, melancholic slow dance.
“And remember those games, those cold football games.. I was your hero, though I seldom played, back then.. could you see, what our future would be?”
Now you were certain, she had to be singing this song for you, everything her eyes dipped back underneath her cowboy hat, you could see her emerald eyes piercing into your soul.
“Fuck this,” you grumbled and grabbed your purse, you were not going to do this again.
“I still love you, do you think of me?”
The wooden door slammed behind you and you could hear the cheers of the audience erupt.
“Y/n, wait,” a hoarse voice came bounding toward you.
“God! What? What the fuck do you want Ellie?”
You whipped around, Ellie’s face was only inches from yours.
“I-I wanted to apologize.. for, for everythin’. It wasn’t right to leave you like that.. and it wasn’t right to say all I did. “
The months leading up to your departure, you and Ellie had been sneaking around. “I love you,” she had whispered in your ear, the night of her winning the lacrosse state championship, her mouth nestled against your ear and her hands in your pants and like an idiot, you believed her. You believed her despite her not wanting to go on dates, hang out together in public school, and through the rumours of her being a player. Then, the night before you left for school, she snuck into your room and confessed; “I never loved you, Y/n.. you were just a means to an end, another girl on my roster.”
Those words were ingrained in your memory, the next day when you left for school, your eyes were puffy and that following year, you tried everything to get over her. Then that year became two years, following you into college. You drank, smoked, hooked up with random girls but none of them were her, not even Abby Anderson.
“I’m not doing this again,” you ripped your hand out from her grasp.
“Fuck, would you just listen to me?” she trapped your other hand and pulled it to her chest, “I never meant all that bullshit, don’t ya see? I’ve only ever liked you, Y/n…” her eyes looked sincere.
“Fuck you, you’re so full of yourself.”
“God, you’re sop fuckin stubborn. Don’t believe me? I sent you a letter every god damn day after you left, I had given them to your mom, it wasn’t until recently that Jesse had told me she never mailed them out.”
This whole time, you assumed that she had really meant it all and the no reaching out thing, really drove the nail deeper..
You stopped, “What?”
“You gotta believe me,” her breath smelled like whiskey and cigarettes.
You stared into her eyes, you heart melted, “F-fine..”
She smiled and pulled you even closer, her hand wrapping around your waist and she placed a soft kiss on your lips. You really were a fool, weren’t ya?”
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natsuminmin · 16 days ago
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─── ・ 。゚☆ CHATBOX LOVE -> kenma kozume !!!
ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NEVER MET! by CMTEN , glitch gum
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synopsis; in which kenma is sent into a spiral after seeing a familiar username cw: deff slight angst, discord type-love , usage of baby , erm exes trope , kenma crash out , unproofread + lowercase , implied f!reader but can be interpreted as gn!reader , idk if its ooc but prob eek,
"and even though it's been a week, i still think of your face"
already? wow, a week since you had ended things with kenma. to him, it felt like months. years, even, which was why he decided to stop counting the days.
so imagine his surprise when he had randomly matched up with you in roblox.
he swears it was you, had all the the same numbers in your user, all the same accessories in your avatar.
he just had to type in the chatbox, he didn't care how desperate he sounded, he wants you back:
kod5uken : [baby? baby thats u right? its kenma]
skibidi1234 : [uhhh no sorry dude idk you]
ah. and then skibidi1234 left, probably weirded out. damn it, he was hallucinating now. on top of that, he was stupid enough to say his real name online.
he left the game himself too, closing roblox in a rage. he wanted to sleep, but his puffy eyes and stuffy nose made it hard to do so.
─── ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ───
barbie : [kenma we need to talk ]
kennie : [what is it]
barbie : [lets break up]
kennie : [oh]
kennie : [okay]
barbie : [im sorry, i cant juggle you and studies]
─── ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ───
that was the last he's heard from you because you've blocked him on everything. hell, you even blocked him on spotify. he should've listened when everyone told him e-dating was going to ruin him.
but how could he resist? he had fallen in love with you already. you were his perfect partner; games with him (somewhat bad, but you both managed), funny, attractive, his type. it's just unfortunate that you had to live miles away from him.
kenma's done sooo much impulsive things just for you: blew all his money on the latest 2-player game from steam so he could play with you, vc'ed until the latest hours of night just so he could keep talking to you, he even skipped some volleyball practices so he could come home earlier just to see you in a video chat.
ugh, he can't count all the times he's lost his dignity either. he had called you "his barbie" and he called himself ken. oh god, that was probably one of the cringiest things he's said in his life.
and don't even remind him about online karaoke, god knows how much screen records you have of his voice breaking mid-song.
speaking of records, he can't bear to delete all the adorable pictures you sent while updating him about your day. he's always liked seeing what weird and interesting things you've done. but worst of all, he's kept screenshots of every loving and tender message from you that had flustered him (spoiler alert: anything you said made his ears red.)
he opened the album he had moved the screenshots to, scrolling through it until his eyes settled on a certain one:
─── ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ───
barbie : [baby u live in japan right?]
kennie : [mhm]
barbie : [nice]
barbie : [just wait, im gonna buy tickets to fly there soon]
kennie : [ur crazy]
barbie : [sure yes whatever... i luv u ken :P]
kennie : [i love you too]
─── ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ───
oh, dear. he can feel tears running down his cheek again. yep, there it was. his recently cleared sinus was blocking up again. damn it, he thought, as he wrapped himself tighter in the sheet. he can't even enjoy playing his games anymore.
kenma still misses you, from the very day you left him. you were his perfect partner, even though you had heartlessly shattered his heart and he would probably never entrust someone with it.
you know what, he'll never respond to some random dm ever again.
unless it was from you, of course.
"it'd be better if we had just never met"
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a/n: was a request from two of my dearest friends who suprisingly are kenma luvrs LOL hi guys @rahhhr @terrariumaura also this was a nod to his 2020-self ik this was so cliche and someone has probably done this but i hoped you like my own (short) spin on it guys do uu know the genius that thought of their chat names BECAUSE BECAUSE THE SONG GOES LIKE "REMEMBER WHEN I CALLED YOU MY BARBIE AND I WAS KEN" IT FITS SO WELL BECAUSE KEN-MA okay bye
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