#or you can let me know yourself rn by dropping a comment or messaging me jsqakfds

[lyctoralsaints]

so uhm I have bad anxiety and that's why I don't personally send many prompts to people who aren't like horiznwlker or dealsindemise bc I feel like an annoyance but ,,, if yall would do me a favour and like this if it's okay for ME to send you prompts randomly ahshdhd i would appreciate it

[oshygoshy]

7:29 am

word count - 953 words

warnings - reader is female in this one. nothing explicit, but suggestive at the end. general intim*cy (throws up, claws at my skin, shakes cell bar handles)

a/n - ermmm guys happy birthday to my glorious king oikawa butttt this is kinda cringe im not gonna lie also i literally woke up at like 3 am and it's past 8 am rn so forgive me for typos my head hurts and my eyes are strained and uhh im formatting this on pc so idk how it looks on mobile but ykw?? that is simply not my business

“who’s blowing up your phone like that?” you mused, sipping your morning coffee as you tried to blink the sleep from your eyes. it was a failing task, though oikawa had to commend you for the valiant attempt.

“i’m not sure,” he hummed, blowing on his tea to try to cool it down. he tried unlocking his phone from his current position, huffing when it didn’t work. he tapped in his passcode and opened up his messages app. 

you peer over his shoulder, resting your chin on his bicep. you raise an eyebrow when you see the message. “japanese? tooru, dear, are you texting one of your fangirls back from home?” 

“baby,” he whispered, turning his head to kiss you on your temple, “you are my home.”

“real smooth. tell me what your side piece said though,” you say, unamused. (but you’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a happy grin on your face.)

“do you remember when i was showing you japan’s volleyball roster, and we were watching one of their exhibition matches?”

“mhmm.”

“remember their athletic trainer?”

you turned your head at that, your cheek squishing adorably against his shoulder. “the really buff guy that you totally had the hots for?”

oikawa’s jaw dropped at that. “excuse me?? i don’t know whether i should be offended or disgusted by that comment-“

“-tooru, please. as your partner, i could see the bedroom eyes you had for him from the audience seating.”

his lips thinned as you turned your attention back to his screen. your sleepy voice tugged at his heartstrings, but he really wished you would say something else. “never said that was a bad thing…he kind of looks like me, don’t you think? it’s clear you have a type.”

“now, i don’t even know what you’re-“ he tried but only got cut off by you again with a giggle.

“-great arms, smoldering gaze, and ample space in the chest!” you say with a wink. 

you hear his audible groan, and can practically feel his eyes rolling in distaste, but you miss his flushed cheeks and dopey grin.

“checks out. he’s cute, in a grumpy kinda way. anyway, tell me what he said.”

“uh,” oikawa started, faltering at that comment. (iwa-chan? cute?) he squinted at his screen; he could really use his glasses right now. “it says…happy birthday.”

you frown. “that’s it? it looks like a longer message than just ‘happy birthday.’”

“he added a ‘stupidkawa’ at the end too.”

you laugh at that, but still have an eyebrow raised, seemingly not satisfied. after a moment, you shrug, letting your curiosity drop, and instead reach a hand up. “you should let me say something back.” you didn’t ask for permission, sending a little smiley face emoji and a bazillion pink glittery hearts. “there. i’m sure these will transcend our language barrier.” 

he shuts off his phone, placing it facedown as you move his cup out of his hands, and slide yourself into his lap. the morning rays are warm, argentina’s summer already making her mark on your glowing skin. but for now, in your private kitchen, his hair blowing gently from the air conditioning vent above, and the most precious smile and both your faces, oikawa couldn’t help but kiss you softly, feeling your smile against his lips.

“happy birthday, tooru,” you whisper against his skin. “my favorite olympian.” you lean back a bit, resting an arm against the counter. “and don’t worry your pretty little head about anything. since today’s the start of the weekend, we can do whatever you want. my treat.”

his hands rested against your waist, rubbing ambiguous shapes into the warmth. “how about we start off with brunch at the cafe we like? the one with the cute cat sitting out front?”

“‘kay. lemme get ready first,” you say, and with much strength, you leave the comfort of his arms, yawning lazily as you head back to your shared room. he stared openly as you stretched your arms above your head, and could only laugh when you flicked his forehead. 

“quit ogling me, stupidkawa.”

“but it’s my job to ogle you! and don’t call me that again. you sound just like him,” he said with a fake shudder. he heard your snicker echo in the hallway as he turned his attention back to his phone.  

it made sense why you were suspicious of iwa-chan’s text at first. though you didn’t speak japanese, it really did look too long to just say “happy birthday.” but he made sure to leave out the second half of his friend’s text. 

oikawa tapped a finger against the edge of the phone as he kept rereading it.

iwa-chan “happy birthday, stupidkawa. take a break, and keep an eye on your girl. some of the guys said they’d buy a ticket just see her.”  you "😊😁💕💖💓💞💖💕💓💓💖✨💖💖" “thanks, iwa-chan i'll be sure to take care of myself." "the hearts were from her. did you know she thinks you have ‘great arms, a smoldering gaze, and a big chest?’” “i told her you called me stupidkawa, and now she calls me that too. you’re a bad influence”

he saw the little dots pop up immediately. japan was only 12 hours ahead, so it should be around 7 pm for him.

iwa-chan “did she really? cute. maybe i should meet her too.” 

his eyes kept flicking back to the last message.

“meet her too.”

“meet her”

“cute”

oikawa raised his brows, thinking. wouldn’t that be a treat, to have iwaizumi and you meet? well, doesn’t matter. they’ll be seeing each other soon in paris for the olympics. but…he thought back to what you said about him. (great arms? cute? you both found each other cute??)

well, maybe they can have another, more secret competition back in his room. winner takes all. 

[deesseshesca]

As if you were dropped at the bottom of the ocean 

Morning, pretty souls, today we are checking a moment of your life that you have hit rock bottom. How is it affecting you now, how can you swim back to the shores and what's awaiting for you at the top. 

Since this is the first time I am sharing my talents in a broad setting , each reading provided from me on this platform is a sneak peak of my reading styles. If you enjoy my input and/or have anything to bring up about the betterment of my posst; leave a comment, repost or even push the little heart. 

Choose the image that’s speak to you and allow yourself to soak ONLY what’s reasoning with YOUR SITUATION 

Rules and Disclaimer 

I am the type of tarot reader to say as it is. Nothing is sugar coated but everything is sent with good intention. If you are not ready to face some truth, you should vagabond somewhere else. 

TW: Gr@ief, Stilbo@rn, DV

PILE 1

What’s your pitch black moment ? 

Patience, Acceptance, Manifesting Dreams Happiness (reverse); OVERALL ENERGY : Sanctuary (reverse) 

Happiness came out in reverse when I was looking for what you lost. I always have the universe to give me all my cards before I conclude an opinion. Put to begin with, your message is the most positive of them all. Is like your spirits guide wanted to leave you an encouragement. First i find it admirable that even at your worst you did not lose the best part of yourself. It must have been hard to swim your way pack up heavy with morals and principals, Making sure not to hurt anyone on your way to the top. While also breaking the chain that keeps pulling you down. I am also sensing that the only way for you to succeed with such a big achievement was patience. You may be feeling that you fell behind when you scroll on social media or catch up with old friends. Put pretty souls imma need you to cut yourself some loose. You survive the bottom gracefully, that's something a few on this planet can say proudly. Survive the worst while some prefer staying stuck in their loop forever. But babe imma needs you to accept your position. I feel a lot of pain around every opportunity you miss, relationship you lost or even grieving your old self. The only way to enjoy the gifts (i feel like a lot of gems are awaiting for you at the shore), is for you to accept that the past is IN THE PAST. No matter how hard you try to run away or dissociate from your past, it is yours to keep. At the end of the day, you only have yourself, so it’s best you accept each part of it. Not only the dimmed good one. At the shore, ALL your manifestations are sitting pretty. From the smallest to the biggest, you won't have to work for them. Since you already did the big work, you only have to sit pretty and receive it. To receive you have to accept. Sit in your DF energy.  I am also feeling like I am talking to people that are feeling lost. They don’t know where they stand, Whether it is in their life or the fact that they don’t feel close to anyone. Let me tell you something, if everything feels foreign around you, it is probably time to list a new set of dreams. A setting new friendship and relationship goals. This is the necessity of accepting yourself, since it allows you to learn about the NEW you with love and compassion.

 Don’t give up pretty soul, you are closer than you think. 

 K,k 

PILE 2

What’s your pitch black moment ? 

Flexibility (reverse) , Chaos, Freedom, Playfulness, Stillness. OVERALL : Prosperity. 

When flexibility came out, I was a bit thrown off. Put looking at the bigger picture, Pile number 2 you have a big potential. But your inability to be disciplined is keeping you in a restless vibration. It's like you are always looking for what's next and when it comes it leaves as quickly. So you think it may not be for you, but the reality is for you to keep your blessings, you need to cater to them. The thing keeping you tied to the bottom of the ocean is your addiction to chaos. Y’all love yourself so drama, you like standing on BIG business, you love yourself some ghetto antics. You probably still hook on a toxic sneak link just for the plot. But pretty, your environment is keeping you from reaching your full potential. Because it does not allow you to see the bigger picture. You only focus on what's in front of you, so how can you manifest anything? When the whole purpose of the concept is to learn to detach. Not every fight is worth fighting, Not everyone deserves your energy. And you don’t need to allow just about anything in your aura. You too pretty for that ! Is a necessity for you to learn to detach. Detaching yourself from chaos is going to be hard. Also I'm not telling you to become the next Mother Theressa. Let me tell you something. Hun, I love me some good tea myself. But imma need u to SIT pretty and observe. Stop moving like a puppet when you are literally a queen. Plus at the end of the day your playful personality is one of the most pretty things about you. First, I feel like I'm writing to late teens, early 20s, you are young and TURN. Second, that personally is keeping young forever and is literary giving you a glow. I feel like even with all this mess around you, your skin still doesn't break out. Your body is still a tea. You too BAD for all that bullsh@t. When you succeed in your detachment, you will make it to the shore. Where your stability is waiting for you. You are going to be in a vibration that you can maintain. No more moving everywhere and anywhere. I am also sensing that you are going to gain some more grace. I am also getting that you are going to be even more beautiful when you achieve that detachment mental state. Overall, I feel like I am talking to my baddies that get money. Cause let me tell you something babe, we can say a lot about you. But your money has never been short, that’s for sure.

 I KNOW THAT’S RIGHT ! 

K,k

I am also getting that some of you have a writing talent. I feel like you wrote something extremely beautiful but it was destroy or someone stole it from you. Let me tell you something you better speak up ! Because I am sensing that you writing skills will bring you some prosperity ($$$) 

Song : Love story, Indila. 430 angel number. You have a very soft voice almost like a whisper but you don’t articulate. You might relate to pile 3 

PILE 3

What’s your pitch black sea moment ? 

Retreat (reverse), Beauty (reverse), Gratitude, Magic, Power. OVERALL: Transmute 

Just want to tell my Pile 3, that's the hardest pile out of 3. All the TW are about this pile. If you don’t think you are in a mental state to accept the message or my input, i would advise you to choose another pile, read another reading on my blog or just to scroll off. 

Ok… to begin with, I feel like you are hustling. You are working on your bag blocking unnecessary noise. You don’t want to pull up and you don’t want to hear it. You don’t want to give anything a chance. Is just you and your money. Right, you might be neglecting your looks. You might not be keeping up with your hair, nails, makeup or even just the mere fact of showering is a task for you. Let me tell you, I am not judging you because you've been through too much. I am sensing that you were in a VERY toxic relationship. I am also not judging you either, I’ve been through one myself. But your level of toxicity is beyond me. I am getting you pour your all to him. Begging him to at least give you some crumbs. Something worth fighting for, something worth loving. He knew how to fu@k with your mental real bad. I feel like you dealt with your fair share of cheating throughout the whole relationship. Which raises some insecurities in you. When you use to speak up, he would have the audacity to blame it on you. ‘’ That girl is way prettier than you, she has more money than you, she takes better care of herself, she doesn't nag, she doesn't always cry …’’ and I can go on and on. All of this was to justify his behavior. Since all you wanted was to be chosen by the one you love, you would do anything to fix it. But nothing was ever enough. Then came the abuse, a couple slap here and there. Punches rolled in before you even knew it. Next thing he is controlling your social and every interaction you have outside. Then a little miracle happened.  God finally gave you something worth all you love. When you receive that pregnancy news you were terrified but I can sense the abundance of love in your body. You would not let this little one go. Not a lot of support which can be understood since no one quite likes your ex and since he was controlling you were forced to isolate. He chose her instead of you. Even though you were bearing the ultimate proof of your love for him. You finally let him go and he did also. But sadly that little light never saw the world. And you were left behind. Is killing you to watch everyone leaving their life, even your ex to whom you gave everything like nothing happened. When everything is eating you alive. Right you tie at the bottom of the ocean but your power is awaiting for at the shore. Instead of blaming yourself for everything that happens or everything that should have happened, allow yourself some grace because you kept going. I am also hearing that you don’t feel like you deserve happiness because you lost your baby. Let me tell you something is not your fault. Fu@k ! This whole situation is not your fault. Your higher self is so much more powerful. Don’t give up mama, the person you are about to become is going to be worth everything. For you to cut your tie, you need to find peace with the situation. And come to accept the harsh reality that your baby is not coming back… I don’t even feel like encouragement is enough. I think you need to allow someone (therapist, psychologist …)  to help work through your baggage. Allow your environment to pour into you . But most importantly allow yourself to soak it in. Because the person that you are about to become is going to be as beautiful inside out. But most importantly, she’s going to be free from her past. 

With much love 

Song: Back to black, Amy Winehouse

[iwadori]

Haikyu boys when they make you insecure PT 1 (Kenma,Kuroo)

Part 1 Part 2  Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6.

Word Count:3k 

genre: angst, fluff

masterlist

Kenma:

You and Kenma have been in a long distance relationship for a while.

Both of you stream, Kenma doing it seriously for his job and you just playing it for fun,

Sometimes you stream together of course but because of your difference in audiences and games you don’t do it all the time

“Bye guys! Hope you enjoyed todays stream” You wave off to the camera and shut off your PC taking a few sips of water.

Kenma: Hey.. nice stream today Y/N are you going to watch mine?

Y/N: Of course I will 

Kenma: Ok talk to you later

Y/N: okayy <3

Kenma is what inspired you to stream, he also taught you all the ins and outs of streaming making sure you were set and ready. Your gaming style was very relaxed and friendly as you obviously weren’t streaming as a career just for fun and to make friends with your online viewers. The games you played were usually: minecraft, COD, Sims 4, Roblox, Animal crossing and *Insert your favourite game here* the way I literally named all the games I play 

You wait for Kenmas stream to start, kind of excited as you’ve always loved seeing your boyfriend in his ‘element’ when it comes to playing to games. As your boyfriends stream starts you see he’s already chosen what game he is playing today which is to your surprise Call of duty, since that was the game you were playing earlier.

As he gets into the stream you are entertained, as always since Kenma was being his usual self laughing at his own deadpan jokes and interacting with his viewers. He is currently waiting for his capture the flag game to start so as he waits he decides to read some comments in the chat.

You’re used to the usual ‘Kenma where is Y/N I miss your usual streams together’ or ‘kenma please RAIL me’ which always makes you laugh. You were also used to the common hate comments Kenma and You both got on your streams but you were definitely not ready for this..

@ Ihatewomanandiamadick : Hey Kenma did you see your girls stream today she is so dog shit at COD lmaoooo jhdfkjdrhdrr

“Well hello ihatewomenandiamadick” started Kenma “but yes I did see Y/N stream and obviously she is not the best at games and I would definitely NOT ask her to team with me for any serious gaming competitions ... but she’s fun to watch I guess” as he finished speaking about you his game loaded up so he focused his attention on that the words he just spoke going to the back of his mind as they end up at the forefront of yours.

You obviously knew you were no match for Kenma’s gaming expertise but you didn’t expect him to publicly agree with a hate comment let alone add more of his imput on you. Did he really think that about you? ‘She’s fun to watch I guess’ did he not even enjoy your streams that much?

You wanted to distract yourself, and you definitely couldn’t do that watching him so you close off of his stream and get in your bed deciding to watch your favourite show. 

Waking up at 6pm after your sad nap, you see that Kenma has left some messages to you,

Kenma: hey did you watch my stream?

Kenma: do you want to facetime later and play some minecraft..?

Kenma: y/n r u ok??

Y/N: oh hey cnt play minecraft w you rn not really in the mood..

Kenma: oh ok..

Time passed since then a month to be exact and you basically dropped off of the face of the earth, you weren’t in the mood to do anything let alone game and stream, which was a constant reminder of your boyfriend (something you didn’t want at the time.) 

You felt embarrassed over all the things he said about you and all the things you now think he thinks about you and the way you play. Maybe he thinks even worse things about you, beyond just how you game? What if he doesn’t even genuinely like you...or he has someone else...it does make sense, you do both live miles and miles away from eachother AND he’s a big streamer you see the amount of girls in his comments.

You shake your head to erase your protruding thoughts coming in your mind, but it doesn’t really help. You and Kenma haven’t spoken much over this month he tried to constantly reach out to you at first but you assume he got bored over your constant, repetitive dry texts. So you were almost content with you and Kenma not even being in a relationship anymore.

However on Kenma’s side, he was beyond worried about you. Since you haven’t been streaming or barely responded to his texts he thought something happened to you, but he didn’t want to be seen as ‘overstepping boundaries’ if there was nothing wrong at all with you and you simply were just ‘not in the mood.’ 

So here he is, in Kuroo’s apartment trying to get him to help him out on finding out what is wrong with you.

��So kenma can you remember what happened the day when Y/N went ‘ghost’“ asked Kuroo in a mock detective voice

“Y/N didn’t go ‘ghost’ Kuro, and take this seriously” said Kenma “I’m worried bout her”

“Okay fine, but for real what’s the last thing you remember before she started acting all weird.” 

“Umm I think it was around a month ago I did my saturday stream and I think she was on it but she didn’t leave her usual nice comments throughout”

“Ohh that was the stream when you sai-” Kuroo said before pausing his words as the memory of what Kenma said about you on his stream came in his mind, as even Kuroo thought it was a tad bit harsh for Kenma to say all those things “I think I know why Y/N has been so distant kiddo”

“What why?” Asked Kenma

Kuroo pulls out his phone and brings up the clip off what Kenma said and Kenma’s face cringes ‘did he really say all those things about you’ he thinks. 

“Shit.. I didn’t know I said all of that” he said quietly “how do I make it up to her?”

“There’s only one thing you can really do Kenma” said kuroo

You are woken up out of your sleep by a knock on the door. Getting out your bed like a zombie, you trudge to your front door only surprised by what you see. There in his 5′6 glory stood your ‘boyfriend’ Kenma with a controller and a kitten teddy in his hand. You were very tempted to shut the door in his face and get back to your dreamless sleep but you waited on him to speak.

“Hi Y/N” he said quietly “wanna play some minecraft...?”

“Why so you can ridicule me on how shit I am?” You ask bitterly ready to shut the door on him

“No! No not all” he said stopping you from shutting the door entering your place “Y/N i’m really sorry on what I said, I wasn’t thinking AT ALL... I love watching your streams and I think you’re great at playing games...I was just being a dick,”

You take a deep breath before tears pool in your eyes “what you said really hurt me kenma..” you say “ I know people say shitty things on the internet all the time... it’s the internet. But I wasn’t expecting you to agree with the hater and say even more shitty things on top of that.. I don’t think I want to even stream anymore”

Upon hearing that, Kenma’s mouth parts open with shock ‘you dont want to stream anymore’ were his comments that bad? Now he feel even worse as he should and is now more determined to make things right. 

He impulsively drags your arm into your game room, catching your surprise ‘what is he up too?’ you think. He stops for a second seeing your usual pristine gaming set up, collected up with dust. 

“What are you do-” you start 

“Just wait!” He says, as he rushes away turning on all your stuff and logging onto his twitch account as he sees the views go up he starts to speak

 “Hi guys, its me kodzuken and today I’m here on stream with my beautiful girlfriend and today I want to say..” he turns to you “Y/N im so sorry for the horrible things I said to you that day... I was just being a dick and I’m sorry I really am.”

You look at the chat and you see some confusion and some people recalling his words from last month. “It’s fine Kenma, I forgive you” you say giving him a hug”

“Okay Y/N, so what do you say... wanna beat my ass at bed wars?” He says with a smirk 

“When have I ever loss?” you return his smirk

Of course you did beat his ass as bed wars for rounds on rounds never losing proving yourself to actually be a good gamer girl. You enjoyed your time with Kenma, forgetting what he said before about you and moving on. 

Eventually, you guys moved in together and streamed together all the time and yes you still do play for fun but you’ve gotten way better at COD (some may say better then Kenma) but who is better didn’t matter to any of you, as long as you got to play together that’s all you both cared about.

Kuroo:

Kuroo and you have been together since you were in your first year of high school 

You met as friends first when you got him to tutor you in chemistry ( a subject you still aren’t that good at.)

Now you have your upcoming entrance exams for university in a month so your school has you doing mock exams in preparation for them.

20%

You look down at your chemistry paper that your teacher just handed you. 20%. You’re surprised, very surprised since out of all your subjects (that you go 90+% on) you studied on the chemistry test the hardest ensuring Testurou, that you didn’t need his help at all. But I guess it turns out, you did.

This failing mock grade put a blunder on your day, you didn’t interact with anyone and didn’t want to see your boyfriend so you skipped your usual routine of meeting him on the rooftop and went to the library instead ‘might aswell start early on your studying’ you thought.

As you were going over your chemistry topics, you hear an ‘ahem’ next to you and you turn your head only to find your boyfriend and his friends next to you. Kuroo with his usual goofy smile on his face. 

“Hey kitten where were you at lunch?” he asked 

“Needed to go to the library, Chemistry is kicking my ass” you mumbled 

“Oya” he said as he noticed your chemistry test laying under your textbook “20%, well damn Y/N I knew you were stupid, but I didn’t know you were that stupid” he laughed doing his stupid usual hyena-like laugh.

Ouch well that hurt. You slightly flinched at his words, “Really your name, you didn’t know the molecular formula for ethanol, that’s first year work” he said continuing to laugh “I’m pretty sure that’s one of the first things I tutored you on when we first met” 

His overbearing laughter was not good for you, you were already having a bad day and yes you do know your not that good at chemistry but you didn’t need your chemistry-enthusiast boyfriend to make fun of you for failing. Kenma and Yaku stood there awkwardly obviously aware of how bad Kuroo is making you feel but they didn’t really know how to stop his friend in the moment.Whilst he’s still dying of laughter you decide to pack up your stuff and leave the library.

You managed to get your Chemistry tutor to let you retake your mock paper in a week so that means, extra hard studying with no distractions you definitely can’t fail again. Since studying on your own was definitely not a good option, and you couldn’t go to Kuroo (especially after he ridiculed you) you decided to ask the second smartest person you know to tutor you.

Y/N: Hey Yaku! Can I ask you a favour?

Yaku: Hi Y/N what do you need??

Y/N: I have my chemistry retake next week, and as you know from your loud-loud friend I failed my recent test so can you tutor me?? 

Y/N: Pleaseeee

Yaku: Ok Y/N why can’t you ask Kuroo you know that he’d be more than happy to help

Y/N: Yakuu pleasee just help me out 

So there you was, nearly a week done with your study sessions with Yaku and you’re feeling way more confident than before. 

“Y/N what is the functional group of a Carboxylic Acid” Yaku asked

“umm... COO?” 

“Great! that’s correct Y/N” he praises i dont actually know if it’s correct or not

You then hear a knock at Yaku’s front door and hear his mum let the person in, Kuroo then enters Yaku’s bedroom with shock plastered on his face surprised to see you here.

“Y/N...hey?” he says confused “what are you doing here?”

“Oh Mori-chan is just helping me with chemistry for my retake tommorow” you say nochalantly internally smiling at the twinge in Kuroo’s face at the purposeful use of Yaku’s first name.

“So why didn’t you ask me to help you know I’m a chemistry whiz” he asks

“Maybe I’m too stupid to be taught under your tutelage” you mumble “since I seem to forget whatever you teach me, even when it’s 3 years ago... but ok”

“Y/N I-” he starts 

“Oh save it Kuroo, I have studying to do” you say cutting him off

“But I-” he tries

“So Mori-chan COOH is the function group of ethyl ethonate right?” you ask ignoring your boyfriend who is now at a lost for words

“ummm yeah it is” says yaku who is clearly feeling heavily awkward at the tension in his bedroom.

Kuroo leaves and you and yaku finish off the studying for the night, you did feel a little bad for being a bit mean to Kuroo but it’s karma for him being a dick to you. 

You wake up the next day ready for your exam which was first thing in the morning, before you hand in your phone you see a message from Kuroo,

Kuroo: I know you’re still mad at me, but I think you’re going to do so well on this test. You’re not stupid at all, you’re really smart and I love you < 3 

Kuroo: Good luck Y/N

You don’t respond to the message but smile at the sincerity of it and thankful for the boost of confidence it gave you before you start your exam.

Finishing the exam with a smile, you were confident you did well as everything you and Yaku went over was on the paper and you’re almost certain you atleast got more than 75%. You have to wait an hour before your teacher can give you your results, so in the meantime you might aswell reconcile with Kuroo.

When you exit the classroom, standing there was Kuroo who seemed to have been waiting for you for the whole duration of the exam.

“So how was it?” Kuroo asked, apprenhensive as he assumed you would just ignore him like you did at Yaku’s house.

“It was fine, I think it went alright..” you say

“Kuroo”

“Y/N”

You say simultaneously, he pauses for a second to let you speak “I’m sorry I was being so stand offish when we were at Yaku’s I just wanted you to see I could do it on my own, and when you called me stupid I really took that to heart since you and I both know that Chemistry wasn’t ever my best subject” 

“I’m sorry too, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, and since it was only a practice test I didn’t think you’d take it to heart but I am sorry I know you aren’t stupid.”

Before you got to say anything else, your Chemistry teacher exited the room with your chemistry paper in hand. Kuroo grabbed your hand anticipating your nerves and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Miss L/N” said your teacher “Well done on your chemistry test” he turned your test around to sure a perfect 100%. Both you and Kuroo gasped, you were elated to say the least you wanted to jump up and down in excitement but a PERFECT 100%.

“I’d also like to add that you have now got the top chemistry score in the school beating the previous title holder Kuroo Testurou” said your teacher, this made Kuroo open his mouth even wider in surprise nearly making you giggle at his response. 

Your teacher took his leave, leaving you and Kuroo in the hallway “ I guess i’m the chemistry whizz now “ you say wiggling your eyebrows just as Kuroo did to you before at Yaku’s this made him chuckle as he came to put his arm around you.

“Y/N don’t get ahead of yourself now, you may have won this battle but I will win the war” he said smiling

In the final exam, you continue your winning streak also getting a near 100% and still beating Kuroo which didn’t matter to either of you, now you’re just like him cracking chemistry puns and jokes all the time which none of your friends appreciated but atleast Kuroo found them SODIUM funny.

AN: Please kill me for the last line of Kuroos, I didn’t really like Kuroo’s since it was a bit self indulgent with my hate for chemistry but what do you guys think?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

I.R.L.📷2

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, voyeurism/exhibitionism, slight stalking, masturbation, naughty talk.

This is dark!(camboy!)Andy Barber. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your guilty pleasures becomes and all too real terror.

Note: Okay, here’s the second and last part of this short little piece. Thanks for reading and the excitement. I’m sorry if I’m a bit blegh rn.

Thank you so much for your patience! And support!!

As always, if you are so inclined, please like, reblog, and comment. <3

Andy stared at the chat. He waited and waited but the green dot didn’t pop up. Maybe she was freaked out after meeting him. Or maybe she was over him. Her name hadn’t blipped up in any of his sessions in the last week and he even invited her to an impromptu private show after he got back from the café. He hoped her seeing him might nudge her but it only seemed to scare the fuck out of her.

He recalled how she nearly fell on her face running away from him. That wasn’t the reaction he was expecting. No preening or smiles, just terror and a quick escape. He didn’t understand. He was a good looking guy and she was obviously lonely. Hell, she was cute too. He was hardly disappointed.

He waited another fifteen minutes, distracting himself with the colour matching game on his phone but her status remained inactive. He scrolled through his bookmarks and clicked on her insta profile. She had commented on some DIY tutorials in the last hour but hadn’t posted. She only ever added pictures of flowers anyway; her last photo of herself was from a year ago. It was her and some guy but he could guess they were no longer together.

He was starting to get upset. She was ignoring him. He wasn’t stupid but what had he done? Their sessions were going well up until this week and he actually looked forward to them. He felt that same thrill he had when he first started his hustle.

He slammed his laptop shut and dropped his phone face down. Fuck it, he had better stuff to do.

He crossed the room and grabbed one of the boxes still stacked against the wall. He hauled it over to the empty bookshelf and flipped it open. He unpacked the books one at a time and the heavy bookend shaped like half a globe. He didn’t know why he brought all these things, he didn’t use them. He wasn’t a lawyer anymore.

He leaned against the side of the sofa and crossed his arms. He boxed up his whole life, or what was left of it, and drove halfway across the country. She couldn’t even give him a hello or her name. She could hardly look at him and she wouldn’t answer his goddamn messages.

He pushed himself straight and stormed over to his laptop. He ripped it open and clicked on the chat. Still, nothing. The invitation was scheduled for less than an hour. Well, if she wasn’t going to open it, he’d have to get it to her another way. He was done waiting on her and he was done playing with her through a screen.

He wanted the real thing and he knew she wanted it too.

���

You were still slightly addled from your encounter at the café. After you got home and unpacked your groceries, you didn’t find your coffee again until it went cold. You dumped it and replaced it with a glass of wine. You bought the bottle a month ago, expecting to unwind and that time finally came.

You sat with the healthy dose of alcohol, almost to the brim as it darkened the full belly of the glass. You wore only a baggy Winnie the Pooh tee and panties as you lounged and flipped on the tv. 

You rarely used the front room anymore, ever since your boyfriend moved out you spent most of your time in the bedroom, exhausted and lonely. It was easier to just linger there between responsibilities.

Your dainty sips turned to greedy slurps as you turned on an episode of Project Runway and lost yourself in the competition and drama of it all. Your ex hated that show and you hadn’t watched it in years. It was time to get caught up with what would forever be your unfulfilled dream of being a designer.

By the runway, your glass was empty and the television had a soft glare as you were slightly buzzed by the high potency. The dark blend had a percentage in the double digits and you were feeling it, delightfully so. As the designers came up for their feedback from judges, more so a roast, you leaned back and wiggled your hips as you stretched. You yawned and closed your eyes as you listened to a designer give cutting critique of a hem.

You peeked under your lashes as the camera panned in on the fraying stitches. Well, it looked alright from far away. You bent your arm under your head as you turned onto your side and your eyes closed again as you pondered another glass of wine. That might give you a decent night’s sleep.

You inhaled and sat up, intent on another indulgence but you stopped short as you blinked in shock. You hadn’t drank that much. You couldn’t be hallucinating. You pressed yourself to the back of the couch and shook your head as you gaped at the figure stood just beside the tv, eyes calmly watching you.

“What…” you gulped.

“Shhhh,” the man, the one you watched all those nights on your laptop, brought his finger to his lips as he hushed you, “it’s okay, honey.”

“I--” your heart leapt into your throat and you stood as you swiped up your glass, “get out. How did--”

“I sent you an invitation. Several this week. You haven’t answered--”

You hit the glass off the table so it cracked and left a jagged edge. You jabbed it out at him from the other side of the coffee table, your hand shaking as the shock turned to a jolt of adrenaline.

“Go! Get out!” you snapped, too terrified to think on how he found you or if your meeting that day was truly a coincidence. It didn’t seem like it, “you’re crazy, get out of my--”

He marched around the table as you backed up and swung the glass at him. He caught your wrist and twisted it as he wrenched you close to him and pointed the sharp edge at your throat. The scent of him filled your lungs and mingled with the taste of wine as the glass pressed to your skin.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he warned, “so don’t make me.”

“Please--”

He said your name, calmly, as you drowned in his oceanic eyes. You quivered in his grasp and tensed as you tried to lean away from him, “Andy,” he offered, “that’s my real name.”

“Please, I don’t know what you want--”

“You know exactly what I want,” he hissed as he pulled away the glass and tossed it to shatter against the wall, “the same thing I always wanted… that you want.”

You took a deep breath and he clapped his hand over your mouth and tutted. His brows wrinkled in irritation and your drunken fingers bounced futilely off his shoulder. He turned you and sat you down on the couch and knelt with you, shushing you again as he settled on his knees on the floor.

“Honey, aren’t you tired of this? Of being apart? Of just… watching?” his eyes strayed from yours and he smiled as he eyed the yellow bear on your shirt, “that’s cute.”

You shook your head and murmured against his hand. His lashes flicked up and his jaw squared. His lips thinned as he considered you.

“Thing is, honey, I’d love to talk but you gotta promise not to scream,” he said, “and I mean that because I don’t want to gag you… not yet, anyway.”

Your eyes rounded and you nodded fervently as your breath puffed under his palm. He narrowed his eyes and shifted his hand slightly, moving it just an inch at a time as he watched you. You sniffled as he let his grip fall to your knee.

“Why? How…” you stuttered, “it was a mistake. Just a show--”

“You were always there,” he said as his other hand came up to your other knee and he ran his hands up and down your legs, “it didn’t sound like a mistake.” He pushed his fingers along the top of your thighs, “you enjoyed it.”

“It wasn’t… like that, just…”

He squeezed your thighs painfully and you winced. His fingers crawled up under the hem of your tee to the elastic of your panties and he hooked them beneath the fabric. You grasped his wrists in shock at his sudden movement and he looked you in the face.

“Say whatever you want, make your excuses,” he snarled, “you said you wanted me, you said it a dozen times, and I know you do.”

He tore down the cotton and you flailed out and caught yourself against the back of the couch. He rolled your panties down and untangled them from your ankles as you tried to close your legs. He kept your panties around his wrist as he stopped your knees from meeting and moved between them.

“Honey, now, I think we’ve had enough build up--”

“Hel--” you screamed and he grabbed your chin and snapped your mouth shut so that you bit your tongue.

He growled and shook your panties down over his hand. He brought up the twisted fabric and shoved it into your mouth. You tried to turn away from his grip as he stuffed the panties in with two fingers as deep as they would go and you almost gagged.

“It’s too bad,” he said, “I wanted to try that mouth… next time.”

You batted at his arms and chest and his hand shot to your throat. You stilled as he choked you, just enough for lungs to burn. He kept his hand on your neck until you sat back and he let it trail down the front of your shirt. He groped you through the fabric, rolling his thumb around your nipples as they hardened.

“I know you can be good, honey,” he hummed, “you’re just… nervous. I know what it’s like, trying to get over someone else. Trying to move on from a life you built-- a break-up, right? That lanky guy on your Insta--”

You gave a terrified flutter of your lashes and he smiled, a tight-lipped sympathetic gesture.

“Look, we’re two lonely people,” he kneaded your chest as he spoke and leaned in, “so, it only makes sense, and I promise, honey, the shows are over. It’s all for you now.”

You trembled as he dropped his hands and pulled up your shirt. He tickled your stomach with his knuckles and framed your tits with his hands as he admired them. You squirmed as he flicked them with his thumbs and leaned into you. He took one in his mouth and suckled. You whimpered as you felt a pluck in your core.

He parted with a pop and licked his lips, “I never… it was always hard to think of what you’d look like but I couldn’t picture anyone so perfect.”

Your nails dug into the couch cushions as you tried not to flinch. The glimmer of delight turned to disgust as you watched this stranger fondle you and he sealed his lips around your other nipple. You bit down on the cotton and moaned. You were so pathetic. It was your stupid moments of lonely desperation that brought you to this, that brought him to you.

His large hands spread along your sides and he pressed his fingertips into you sharply as he toyed with your nipples. He grazed his teeth along each bud and pulled back to look at you again. You grasped his shoulders as you begged him with your eyes and shook your head.

“I… always wanted to do this in the bedroom,” he said, “that’s where you usually are, huh? Touching yourself for me all alone in the dark--”

You hung your head in defeat and he pulled you forward on the cushion. He lifted you onto your feet and spun you around in the space between him and the couch. He put one hand on your hip and the other on the back of your neck and walked you around the sofa. He paced slowly behind you as he urged you down the hall and paused to peer through your bedroom door.

“Here we are,” he said as he angled you through the door. You reached up as your jaw ached around the wad of fabric and he caught your hand and yanked it down, “I didn’t say you could do that.”

You dropped your arm and he let you go. He pressed his body to your back as he nudged you closer to the bed and stopped you right before it. He bunched your shirt in his hands and tugged it up until you raised your arms. He swiped it over your head and let it crumple beside your feet.

“Go on, sit nice and pretty for me,” he tapped your ass lightly.

Naked, you shivered as you stepped away from him and got onto the bed. You turned as you bent your legs over the edge and lowered your chin. You hugged yourself as he stood watching you with his hands on his belt.

“Don’t you worry, it’s still a show,” he said as his hands slid over to his buckle. 

He winked and ran his fingers up the front of his jacket and pulled it off. He draped it over the folding stool by your bookshelf and bent each leg to tug off his shoes. His socks followed shortly after and he squared his shoulders before he scooped his shirt up and off. He returned to his buckle and tilted his head at you.

“Look at me, honey,” he said as you stared at the pile of clothing, “we both know you love to watch.”

You raised your eyes to him and clamped your hands around your shoulders, arms crossed over your chest. He grinned and unbuckled his belt, his zipper gliding down smoothly beneath his fingers.

“You got me hard as fuck,” he said, “I didn’t like that earlier, you know? The way you ran from me.”

You just sat and tried to swallow the hopeless acceptance. He pushed down his pants and stepped out of them, his arousal bulging against his boxers. Your fingernails cut into your skin as you curled your fingers.

“You’ve been so good to me, honey,” he continued as he rolled down his boxers, “you know, I only want to return the favour. I came all this way just to get close so that--” he paused as his dick sprang up before him and he kicked away his underwear, “I can take care of you now.”

He gripped himself and stroked his length with a hum. His stomach tensed and the lines of his muscles deepened as he groaned and played with himself as he would before the camera. You were mortified as you watched him helplessly and he got closer and closer.

“Now you get the live show, honey,” he reached out and took your hand, closing it around his dick as he guided it up and down.

He moaned and hung his head back as he used both your hands on his shaft. He shuddered and leaned into your grasp. You listened to his pants as they grew quicker and quicker and he stopped you abruptly. You looked down at the glistening pre-cum as it leaked from his tip and he trailed his thumb through it as he let you go.

You flinched as he moved towards you suddenly and grabbed your hips. He lifted you and dropped you onto your back. He took your ankles and placed them against his shoulders as he stretched your legs up his torso. His cock slid along your cunt and hovered over your folds.

“Fuck, I can’t wait any longer,” he bit his lips and looked between your legs as he let go of one leg and reached down to guide himself between your lips, “oh, honey, your so sexy.”

He pushed apart your cunt with two fingers and slid in between his knuckles. He gasped as you stretched around him and you pushed your head back and whined around the fabric in your mouth. You whimpered as he drew back just a little and pushed in deeper. He rocked his hips, getting further each time as your walls strained around him.

He tilted you against him so that he reached his limit and slid his thumb along your bud. He swirled around your clit as he carried a slow motion, gliding in and out of you as you slicked around him. The tingle of his touch crept like tendrils beneath your flesh and made you clench around his dick.

He groaned and sped up, just a little as he played with you, pressing more firmly on your clit until your hand shot down over his. You didn’t move him away, only gripped his wrist as he toyed with you, fucking you deliberately as the sensation melded into a maelstrom. The twisting spring inside of you compressed and released suddenly in a ripple of sheer delight.

You groaned and bent your legs against him, raising your pelvis higher so he dipped even deeper. Your eyes rolled back and you ripped the panties from your mouth in your ecstatic trance. You balled them in your hand and writhed on his dick. 

He grasped your hips and dragged your ass over the edge of the bed and rammed into you. You cried out and he did it again. It was as if he lost all control as his pelvis slapped against you loudly and his voice rumbled through the room. You gulped and gasped as he pressed the heel of his hand to your clit and rubbed harder, his fingers stabbing sharply against your flesh.

His other hand snaked up to pinch your nipple and cup your tit. He braced you as he bent over you and fucked you furiously. He stepped up onto the edge of the bed frame as he curled your body beneath his and brought both his hands up beside your head as he held himself over you.

He plunged down into you over and over and he huffed as he watched the joining of your bodies. He growled and pulled out of you suddenly, bending your legs up as you were contorted further. He grabbed your hand again and trapped it around his dick, moving it quickly as he muttered.

He came in thick ropes onto your chest and down the folds of your stomach as you were in almost a C beneath him, his knees around your thighs. You shook and lifted his chin as he snarled and kept your hand moving, still cumming over you. He tore your grasp from him as he grew over sensitive and hung his head as he quivered.

“Shit,” he swore as he backed off of you and stood, leaning on the bed to steady himself. Your legs fell over the edge and his cum cooled across your skin, “you look good like that, honey.”

He stepped closer and pushed his fingers through the mess. You shivered and stopped his hand as you slowly returned to reality. You lifted yourself on one elbow and batted your lashes in confusion.

“How did you even find me?” you uttered.

“Doesn’t matter how,” he grabbed your wrist and pulled you to sit up gruffly, “only that I did.”

[emmyhem]

everything you’re missing (c.t.h)

a/n: hi everybody, i’m back with another post. this is my first calum piece and i’m so excited to finally get it up. this is once again unedited, i’m way too tired rn. it’s also the second smut i’ve posted so that’s pretty exciting as well. yeah i don’t really have much to say right now because i’m literally exhausted, my classes are really kicking my ass. anyway i hope you all enjoy this bff!calum piece. feedback and comments are always appreciated. hope you all are doing well and are being safe. thank you - emmy <33

pairing: bff!calum hood x fem!reader

summary: a drunken text meant for your ex shows up on calum’s phone and leaves him questioning everything he’s missing out on with his best friend.

warning(s): talk of a previous bad relationship, y/n’s ex body shamed her, mentions of alcohol, insecurity, smut, cursing

word count: 4.7k

You’ve decided that 3 glasses of wine is your happy medium, but even a sip into the 4th and there’s no telling what you’ll do. 

So, naturally you were finishing up your 5th glass on Friday night while angrily scrolling through your exes instagram when you got what seemed to be an incredible idea. It was simply too tempting not to, your mind was feeling hazy which made your confidence skyrocket, and you truly did just look good. 

A day of pampering had left you in a black floor length silk robe with nothing but your favorite deep cherry red lingerie set underneath. Your face was bare and glowing after a refreshing and illuminating face mask, and your lips were left glossy and plump from a new scrub. 

You had posed in front of the floor length mirror in your living room, giggling between snaps until you had taken the perfect shot. It was classy but provocative, the dressing gown slipping from your shoulders exposing the lace of your bra and a tasteful amount of cleavage. You had also left the bottom open, allowing a clear shot of your thighs and the curve of your ass from where you sat on your knees. 

With a mischievous glint in your eyes you selected the picture into a message, typing a cheeky, “take a good look at everything you’re missing”  and sending it off to your ex (or so you thought). 

But you really couldn’t be blamed for your mistake, Cam and Cal were far too similar for your drunk brain to decipher the difference. You also couldn’t be blamed for the fact that you dozed off on the couch immediately after sending it, before you even had a chance to recognize your humiliating mistake. 

You were awoken by the ringing of your phone at around 9:00 am, way too early for your liking. Before even registering who it was, you brought the phone to your ear and groaned a sleepy, “hello,” 

“At your door.” a voice you recognized as your best friend responded. 

“M’coming” you said, scooting off the couch. On your way to the door you registered that you were still scantily covered, the robe falling off of you as you walked. You clutched it around you as you swung the door open to a wide eyed, Calum Hood. 

“G’morning.” he smirked, looking you up and down. 

“Shh” you hushed, pulling him in by the arm. “Why in the world are you here so early?”

He lightly laughed while taking a seat at the kitchen table, eyes following you while you moped over to the fridge and pulled out two water bottles. 

“Well,” he sighed as you handed him one. “I got a very interesting text last night and I figured I just had to come over and see, y’know everything I was missing.” he spoke in a teasing tone as he gestured a hand down your body.

You tugged your eyebrows together in confusion. There was something familiar about what he was saying, but not familiar enough for you to put the pieces together. 

“What are you talking about?” you questioned bringing the water bottle to your lips. 

Calum shrugged his shoulders, a smirk still glued to his face as he took out his phone and began looking for something. After a few seconds he extended his arm to hand you his phone. You accepted it and glanced down absentmindedly as your body slumped against the counter.  

The second your eyes hit the screen it all came back to you, your mouth fell open and you straightened out, suddenly very awake, not to mention very mortified. 

Calum on the other hand was buzzing. Actually, he had been ever since his phone dinged last night awakening him from his sleep. Well, buzzing and extremely, extremely sexually frustrated. 

When he first opened your message and saw the picture that would now be making a regular appearance in his wet dreams, he had nearly choked on his own breath. He knew that it was most likely a drunken mistake, and while that slightly saddened him it didn’t stop his dick from plumping up at the sight, straining uncomfortably against his boxers. He seriously debated wanking to the tempting image but decided against it, thinking it would be a gross violation of your privacy since it wasn’t even meant for him. Oh how he wished it was. Unfortunately that meant he had been sporting an exceptionally sensitive halfie since then. 

“Oh my god.” you groaned, sitting the phone down on the counter and covering your eyes in humiliation. “Cal I’m soooo sorry, I was drunk, and overly confident, and I meant to send this to Cam and now I’m just, I’m sorry.” you reiterated. 

‘Hey, don’t apologize on my account.” he countered. “Plus, you should be thrilled you sent it to me and not that asshole, doesn’t deserve ya.” 

“I know, you’re right. Doesn’t change the fact that I’m mortified though. S’bit ridiculous, get a little alcohol in my system and I have a god complex all of a sudden” you rambled, running your hands through your hair nervously. 

Calum stood and pulled you into his arms, resting his chin on the top of your head. 

“You think too much, y’know that?” he quipped. 

You turned your head, pressing a cheek against his sweater clad chest and mumbled, “Yea I’ve been known for that.” 

Calum softly chuckled at your words before pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head and pulling apart. 

“S’really no big deal, y/n.” a teasing grin plastered on his face. “Besides I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it.”

“Calum!” you scolded, swatting a hand at his arm. 

He dodged your hit just in time and held his hands up in surrender before taking his seat again. 

“Why'd you let that dick bother you anyway? Y’know you’re way out of his league.” 

Your jaw clenched at the question, your mind wandering to every time you had come to Calum crying after your ex had done something to hurt you. Everytime he commented on your “stomach pudge” as he liked to call it, when you wore a tight dress to go out. Or when he would ask if you were really “that” hungry, even if you hadn’t eaten much at all. And each time you would feel absolutely wretched and end up sobbing in Calum’s arms, but refusing to tell him why you were so, so sad. 

“He texted me the other day y’know?” you muttered under your breath, while fiddling with the coffee machine. 

“Really? What’d he say?” Calum responded, watching your back with narrowed eyes. 

“Uh, he saw me the other night, when we were at that bar with the guys.” you said, shaky fingers pulling out a mug. 

“And?” he spoke flatly. 

“It’s stupid really,” you sniffled, willing your voice not to break. “He said I put on a few pounds, that he was glad he got out when he did.” your bottom lip traitorously jutted out as you turned to face him. 

“Fucking dick.” he hissed. 

Calum wasn’t necessarily proud of the violent images that flashed through his mind at the thought of that asshole finding yet another way to hurt you but, the sad little quiver of your lip allowed him to reason without a doubt that they were fair. 

Before you could even blink he was holding you again, arms impossibly tight around you. . 

“He’s wrong, y/n. Fuck, I don’t know how to even...he’s just so wrong.” he said softly, his hand rubbing your back reassuringly. 

“I know.” you whimpered, holding tears back. 

He pulled back enough to look you in the eyes, arms still firm around your waist. 

“No you don’t. It’s...It really fucking pisses me off that he makes you feel like this. It’s like-fuck you’re just like-” he moved his hands to cup your cheeks. “You really are gorgeous.” 

Your heart fluttered at his words, and your whole body felt warm as you stared at his big brown eyes. His words felt sincere, everything about him felt so sincere. 

“Thank you, Cal.” 

He pulled you back into his chest, “Really wish I could just, like hug away all his bullshit.” 

“M’used to it.” you mumbled. 

“You don’t deserve any of it.” 

“Yea, well what can you do.” you sighed, moving out of his embrace. 

Calum’s eyes were still glued to you as you stirred a spoonful of sugar in your coffee. 

“I hope you don’t let anything he says get to you.” 

You let out a breath of exhaustion. 

Confidence wasn’t something that you used to struggle with. I mean sure, there were spouts of insecurity here and there but you knew your worth, and you considered yourself pretty, hot even. That had all changed a few months into your latest relationship. First it was the backhanded compliments which quickly turned into passive comments, and then outright cruel insults. People really underestimate the toll their words take on others, especially when the person that’s making you feel so ugly and worthless, is one that you adore and who’s supposed to adore you right back, no matter what. 

“I try but, he can’t just be making it all up.” you were ashamed. When did you become the girl that lets a guy affect how she sees herself? That just wasn’t you. 

“He is. He’s insecure and a douche. He was probably trying to destroy your confidence to the point that you felt like you couldn’t leave him.” Calum assured. “But you’re way too strong for him, dumped his sorry ass anyway.” 

You smiled gratefully at his words, taking a seat next to him. 

“Yea, so strong I tried to send him half naked pictures for reassurance.” 

Calum shook his head, “I wish you could see how hot you are.” 

Your eyes widened at the compliment, your head dropping to avoid his stare as blood rushed to your cheeks. 

“I’d be happy to reassure you whenever you want.” he continued, bumping his knee against yours under the table. 

“Doesn’t count.” you dismissed, before sipping your coffee. “You're my best friend, you’re obligated to tell me I’m pretty.” 

“Doesn’t mean I don’t mean it.” he muttered back quietly, his expression dropping slightly. He hated when you deflected his compliments. All he ever wanted to do was make you feel good, and you made it very difficult for him when you blocked every swing he took at the wall of insecurity that Cam had built around you. He would kill Cam if he could. 

You let out an apologetic sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his shoulder. 

“M’sorry, you’re right. I love you for that, the only thing keeping me sane.” 

Your heart squeezed as he hugged you back. 

Calum was perfect, he was sweet, and funny, and quite literally your favorite person on earth. Not to mention you had been hopelessly in love with him since practically the beginning of your friendship. But as his best friend you had heard over and over just how uninterested he was in a relationship. Everytime you would ask about his love life he would just respond, 

“I’m just not the boyfriend type, m’not cut out for it.” shrugging nonchalantly. 

Which you thought was laughable because anyone would be lucky to have him as a boyfriend, in fact sometimes you would let yourself pretend he was yours. 

Like,in a busy club with his hands on your hips, guiding you through the crowds. So close behind, you could feel each exhale on the back of your neck, as his eyes darted around the room to ensure there weren’t any potential threats to your safety, in the form of drunk overzealous flirts. Or after a night out when he got cuddly and clingy, and would find his way from the couch into your bed. You’d wake up with his cheek pressed against your chest and his arms snaked around your torso as he released soft breaths that caused goosebumps to rise on your exposed skin. You’d let yourself imagine that you had this every morning and that he would wake up any minute to smother your face in kisses and tell you he loved you. And of course, here he was again this morning being so thoughtful and kind and everything you wanted in a boyfriend. And here you were again swimming in his praises and physically having to restrain yourself from kissing him. 

Begrudgingly, you pulled away and stood up. 

“Gonna get changed.” you spoke. 

“I’m making us breakfast.” Calum called as you walked away. You hummed in response and slipped into your room. 

Once in the privacy of your own room you quickly pulled on a pair of leggings and a hoodie before scurrying to the bathroom sink and splashing cold water on your face in hopes of ridding yourself of any romantic thoughts towards your best friend.

Although you weren’t aware, Calum was doing the very same thing just a few feet away. Internally reminding himself repeatedly that it was never gonna happen with you. He wasn’t good enough to be anyone’s boyfriend, let alone yours. You didn’t want him that way and he could almost trick himself into believing that he was okay with that.

You hastily finished brushing your teeth before returning to the kitchen. You were greeted with the sight of Calum’s back, he stood over the toaster cutting an avocado and humming a song you didn’t recognize quietly to himself.  He looked over his shoulder as your footsteps approached. 

“Hungry?” he questioned. 

“You have no idea.” you affirmed, as he fixed a plate for you both. 

“Good. I was thinking we could watch something while we eat,” 

“Fine with me.” you responded, hoping he wouldn’t notice the distraction laced in your voice. Your focus had easily been stolen from the conversation to how easy it was to see his back muscles flex through the thin material of his jumper. 

But of course he did, it was Calum after all. 

“Y’alright?” he said, handing you a plate. 

“Uh, yep.” you rushed out. 

“Not still thinking about Cam, are you?” 

“No, not at all.” you answered honestly, walking to the couch, Calum trailing closely behind you. 

“Then what’s got you all flustered?” 

“You” you thought, taking a seat in the furthest corner. 

“I’m not flustered.” 

“Bullshit” he countered, sitting practically on top of you. 

You let out a huff, and motioned to the other  completely empty side of the couch. 

“Is there a reason we aren’t practicing personal space right now?” 

He laughed softly at your question and nuzzled closer into your side. 

“Yea, you’re all pouty, looks like you need a cuddle.” 

 “I’m really fine Cal.” you shoved him lightly but saw no results, he just scooched in even closer and bit into his toast. 

The two of you sat in silence while some newly released action movie played on your TV. Calum’s arm was wrapped around your shoulders keeping you tight to his side, and although you could’ve sworn that you had been in this exact same position hundreds of times, you felt as if this were the very first time. Every single one of your nerves were on fire and the warmth that had flooded your body was making you antsy. 

Feeling overwhelmed by your senses, you allowed your eyes to flutter close with a deep inhale. 

“You okay?” Calum whispered, dipping his head down slightly to reach your ear.

You opened your mouth to respond but didn’t trust your voice to protrude through your shaky exhales, settling for a subdued nod instead. 

“You sure?” his words were long and drawled out, despite your eyes being closed you knew his proximity from the feeling of his breath just behind your ear. 

Before you could speak up his hand secured itself just above your knee, and your muscles flexed involuntarily at the contact. 

“Relax, y/n” he continued, his thumb beginning to run repeatedly over a spot on your inner knee. 

Everything in your brain was screaming at you to excuse yourself, maybe even kick him out, anything to gain some space and hopefully some clarity from the cloud of sexual tension that was looming over the two of you and blurring boundaries at lightning speed. But you were essentially frozen in place, petrified that any movement would alert Calum to the way he was affecting you. 

Your head lolled back to rest on his forearm which was lying behind you on the couch and finally peeled your eyes open, staring up at the ceiling. 

He watched you from the corner of his eye, taking note of every rise and fall of your chest, every thick swallow of your throat. 

If there was one thing Calum was well versed in, it was his ability to read you, he liked to think he knew you better than anyone else in the world. He could tell exactly how you were feeling just by watching you, your face, your breathing and he was more than shocked when he started getting the feeling you were no longer upset but something far more appealing. 

Were you turned on? Right here in his presence? The thought made blood rush to his dick, which twitched in his pants when another breathy sigh passed your lips. 

“What’re you thinking about, love?” 

Everything in you urged you to answer honestly, just tell him the truth. “You, I’m thinking about you. I’m always thinking about you.” But you couldn’t do that, so instead you deflected. 

“What’re you thinking about?” you countered, meeting his eyes. 

Calum questioned his next words very carefully, debating whether or not he could recover if he was wrong about what you were feeling and you shut him down. It was pointless though, he knew he would never recover from your rejection. He also knew that spontaneous combustion wouldn’t look very good on his tombstone and that’s exactly what would happen if he spent one more minute not kissing you. 

Fuck it. 

“That pretty little set you had on last night.” he confessed. 

That you weren’t expecting. 

A quiet whine rang from your throat and you were far too affected to feel embarrassed. 

And that did it, Calum was now impossibly hard in his pants, no doubt leaking precum onto his boxer briefs. He needed to get his hands on you, now. 

His hand started to slowly travel up your thigh, goosebumps rising on every centimeter they passed. 

“So gorgeous in red, aren’t ya y/n?”

“Cal,” you hissed when his thumb brushed the sensitivity of your inner thigh. 

“Mm.” he hummed. “It’d be pretty hard fo’me to stop right now, but I will if that’s what you want. Is that what you want, love?” 

He was sure he’d cry if he had to let go of you now, but he needed to hear you say it. 

“No, don’t wanna stop.” you whined, turning your body flush to his.

“Whaddya want then, baby? Hm?” You could feel his every word on the flushed skin of your neck as he leaned into the crook.

“Want you.” 

He could’ve came then and there. 

“Then I’m all yours.” he admitted before crashing his lips on yours. 

Your heart was in your stomach as his tongue entered your mouth, explorative and eager. He was too busy memorizing your taste to notice your fingers tugging at his sweater. You attempted to push it up desperate to feel his skin under your hands. You were able to pull the fabric up about halfway before they were blocked by his arms that were holding you close against him.

Calum laughed when you pulled apart from the kiss, giving him a disappointed look. 

“Want it off?” he teased. 

You couldn’t bother to be embarrassed when you nodded eagerly in response. He didn’t waste any time peeling the fabric off of his skin, and you were quick to lightly run a finger across the ink feather just below his collarbone. 

Now it was his turn to tug on your clothes, “Level the playing field?” 

You nodded, lifting your arms and allowing him to lift the sweatshirt over your head leaving your chest completely bare. Calum groaned at the sight of your tits, his hands quickly finding your waist and tugging you down to lay on your back in one swift motion. 

Once you were laid out in front of him he took the opportunity to explore the new skin. His hands left a lingering warmth as they dragged across your stomach and despite the kind words and endearing demeanor that he always upheld with you, you found yourself shying under his gaze, wanting to curl away from him. As your hands began to wrap around your stomach in an attempt to cover yourself up he quickly pushed them away, locking them in place on either side of you. 

“Wanna see everything baby, all of you.” he cooed in your ear before nipping at the lobe. 

His kisses began to travel down your neck, sucking a few marks to your collar bones and the surrounding areas. When his fingers grazed over a fresh bruise in the dip just between your neck and shoulders you hissed lightly. 

“You look so pretty marked up for me. All mine, aren’t you baby? Not Cam’s, mine. Say it.” 

“Yours, Cal.” you admitted, feeling your body sink further into the couch. You had never felt drunk off of someone’s words before and the experience was leaving you sputtering, completely compliant to your best friend. 

He hummed contently at your confession, his large hands gripping at your hips, before slowly peeling your leggings off.

“Y’feel so good in my hands, like you were made for me.” his thumbs poking at the soft skin, just beneath your panties. 

The feeling of his hands so close to where you needed them, but not quite there was driving you crazy. 

“Cal, please.” you begged. 

He groaned before tugging at the cotton covering you. “Cam’s a fucking idiot, y’know that? He had the prettiest girl in the world and treated her like shit. I’d never do that, wanna worship you baby.” 

It was ridiculous how overwhelmed his words were leaving you, all desperate and squirming. As his fingers met the soaked expanse of your cunt you couldn’t hold back the throaty moan it elicited. 

A pornographic sigh followed close behind, one that made Calum want to pinch himself to ensure he wasn’t in the midst of a haunting dream. 

“Soaked f’me darling.” he mused, running his fingers up and down your folds to completely coat you in your arousal. You whimpered at the feeling, bucking your hips up desperate for friction. 

Tutting while shaking his head, he used one hand on your lower stomach to press you back down to the couch. 

“Stay still for me won’t you, love?” he cooed, continuing to run his fingers over your core lightly. 

When you bobbed your head up and down in agreement he lifted your leg to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your calf. 

“Hm, good girl.” he praised, softly laying your leg back down. 

Calum hovered above you, dipping his head down every so often to peck at your chest, his fingers still unrelenting. The knot in your lower stomach tightened every second that passed and you felt like you could scream at any second, yearning to be full. 

Calum felt like he could burst any minute himself but was determined to make this experience the best of your life. He wanted to give you something to remember, a reason to want more. 

Your soft moans and frustrated grunts alerted him to your neediness and he was just about ready to give in for the both of you. 

“What do you need from me, baby?” he said against your shoulder before peppering kisses across your collar bones. 

You could only respond with an airy moan when his fingers found your clit. 

“Hm? My fingers?” You shook your head aggressively. He knew exactly what you wanted, the tease. 

“No? Want my mouth?” he teased further, leaving an opened mouth kiss in between your tits. 

“Cal,” you sighed. “Fuck me, please.”

He groaned at your words, nipping lightly at the skin before ridding himself of his pants. 

“You’re a fucking dream, y’know that?” he praised, desperately searching for a condom in his pants. When he finally located one he held it up to you as if it were a prized possession, smiling proudly at his own preparedness. 

He hastily freed himself from the constraints of his boxers and rolled the condom on, never once taking his eyes off of the blissful expression on your face. 

“Ready?” he questioned, his tip lightly pressing at your entrance. You nodded and sucked in a breath, bracing yourself for the stretch, your eyes falling closed in the process. 

When a few seconds went by and nothing happened you opened your eyes to find Calum staring down at you in awe. 

“Cal,” you whined. “what’re you doing?” 

Your words seemed to break him from his trance, he shook his head and muttered an apology to you. 

“Sorry, fuck you’re pretty. You’ve got no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” 

“Then stop waiti-” your words were cut off by a sharp hiss that couldn’t have been prevented as his length finally pressed into you. 

“Fuck.” Calum groaned his head falling back. You felt too good around him, seriously he was fucked, completely ruined for you. 

You felt the exact same as your silky moans filled the room. You had never been filled this good and you questioned how you had gone so long without this. 

“M-move” you sighed, clenching around him. 

You could hear his breath catch at the feeling and he grunted out a strained, “Need a minute.” 

He held himself in place for a few more seconds until his breaths began to even out once again before pulling nearly all the way out and slamming back in. 

You yelped, pulling your lip between your teeth in hopes to drown the sound. 

He continued slamming into you at an unrelenting pace, taking notice of each time your eyes would roll back when he brushed against your g-spot. He could write a book about how good you looked all fucked for him. 

As his thrusts grew closer together you could feel your release creeping up on you.  

“Cal, need’ta cum.” you stuttered out. 

His hands tightened around your hips, pulling you even closer to him as his head poked at that spot again. 

“Go on baby, let go.” he encouraged, willing himself to hold out a little longer as your walls fluttered around him. 

Once you had came it only took him about three more thrusts before he was painting the condom with his release, groaning your name as his hand searched for yours to intertwine them as he came down from his own high. 

  His body flopped next to yours on the couch, both of you struggling to fit next to each other in such a small space, not that either of you minded the close quarters. 

Your fingers remained laced together as you caught your breath, Calum peppering kisses to your shoulder and mumbling praises into your skin. 

“You’re an angel. God, I just- I love you.” he said, causing your head to snap in his direction. 

He looked like a deer in headlights when you asked for him to repeat himself. 

“I love you?” he obliged.

“Is it a question?” 

“No, I’m just not used to saying it.” he admitted, vulnerability clear in his eyes. 

You wanted to kiss away the worried crease in his forehead but instead pressed your lips to his, pulling apart a fraction of an inch to speak after a few seconds.

“I love you too.” you ensured. 

Calum eyes widened, not expecting you to say it back, at least not so soon. He had so much he wanted to say to you but figured all of it could be summed up by another kiss to your soft lips. So he closed the distance once again, using a bit more force this time in hopes it would convey the strength of his feelings for you.

[mercy-burning]

Flipped - BLURB

So... I was watching this p*rn video earlier, and this was the result... You’re welcome.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!Reader Summary: Reader jerks Spencer off in front of a mirror Category: SMUT (18+) Content: handjob, pet names (good boy, sweet boy, etc.), cum eating Word Count: 576 (this is the shortest thing I’ve ever written wow alsdjflkd)

Mirrors were never really your thing. A few partners before had wanted to utilize them in your sex life, and you were always open to trying it, but for some reason, seeing yourself get fucked in front of a mirror never did anything for you.

And then one day, you saw something that completely flipped the script, and you wondered why the thought had never occurred to you any sooner.

You'd come home from work early, looking around for Spencer to see if he'd want to grab dinner somewhere, only to catch him in the bedroom, standing in front of your floor-length mirror and jerking himself off.

He was indeed a bit embarrassed, but once you'd assured him it was most certainly okay, he eased and let you help finish him off.

Now you loved mirrors. You were still impartial to letting him fuck you in front of it, but more often than not, you were the one calling the shots anyways. Not to mention he was ore than willing to let you jerk him off in front of the mirror.

Like now.

Your hands are slow, one of them lightly caressing the skin on his neck while the other glides smoothly over his hard cock.

You bring your lips to his shoulder, humming against the soft skin and peeking over to see his reflection in the mirror. He bucks his hips slightly into your hand, no doubt a product of seeing you at work so clearly in front of him, and the sight sets off dominoes in your stomach.

"Mmm, you're so fucking good, sweet boy," you sigh, gripping his dick a little tighter on your way up to the head. Spencer whimpers at the praise, his hands clenching at his sides—another sight that has you near bursting every time. "Such a good boy for me... Letting me work that pretty cock in front of the mirror so you can see..."

You feel him throb gently in your hand, the feeling bringing a smile to your lips. "You like that, huh? Seeing me make you feel good?"

"Y—Yes... God, baby, yes..."

He's so obviously ruined by you, practically struck dumb by the situation at hand, and it fills you with pure, burning desire.

And you know exactly how to finish him off.

Your hand moves just a little quicker, your grip tighter, and the sound he makes as you roll your hips gently into his backside and moan right against his neck is earth-shatteringly beautiful. That's when he's coming with a loud string of groans, dick stuttering in your hand as he covers the mirror in his cum.

You work him through it, licking up his neck and milking him for all his worth, until every last drop is either on the mirror or in your hand.

"Ohh, good boy..." you drawl just under his ear. Your hand slowly peels away from him and travels up to his mouth, where he knows instantly what to do.

Spencer wraps his tongue under your pointer finger and sucks it into his mouth, groaning around it as you glide it softly in and out.

"Get a good taste?" you coo, and he nods, whimpering around your finger. You smile then, kissing the back of his shoulder and using your other hand to graze over his bare hips.

"Good. Because there's plenty more where that came from. Get on your knees and clean it up."

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes @rainsong01 @yourmisosoup @liveloudwriteloud @reidsconverse @la-vie-en-amour1 @edgycowboy666 @averyhotchner @centiaaa @lizziechaseee @coffeeandendlesswords @usuck @spenxerslut @g0lden-cth @emilyprentisslittlewhore @takeyourleap-of-faith @reidyoulikeabook @spencerreid9 @b-a-utiful @jareauswifey @big-galaxy-chaos @flipperpenguins @pansexualthing @donald4spiderman @awesomebooklover17 @shemarmooresfedora @izraahh1 @bakugouswh0r3 @singularityjc @xoxomgg

TAGS NOT WORKING: @thatsonezesty13 @ayla-1605

If you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist, feel free to message me or leave a comment and I’ll get on it right away!

[delicrieux]

—MAKE YOU SAY “OH” EXTRAS: TINDER

extra meaning non-canonical occurrence; can be placed anywhere in the “make you say oh” timeline after couple (cha. 14) and before the final “oh”. 

pairing—corpse husband x f!reader warnings—tinder profiles, tw: men, swearing.  word count—2.6k. format— written. ─── ❥ req by nonnie​:  y/n makes a youtube vid/live stream where she's just swiping through her tinder acc and corpse literally blocks her lmao

author’s note—akldsljfs this was such a funny idea i could not not write it lmao

ultimate masterlist. myso masterlist

You have pulled the biggest brain move by setting up both a facecam and a screen recorder on your phone. All is beautifully displayed and visible during the stream. Your fanbase is particularly intrigued on what exactly are you planning on doing today, seeing as your tweet of “strea” had been a bit vague, if not downright ominous. No emojis. No elaboration. You couldn’t even be bothered to finish the word. Truly, a mystery. Everyone tuned in and are currently waiting with bated breath.

A few of your fans must sense upcoming doom because the overall mood in the chat turns from optimistically intrigued to...evil. It’s an entity all on it’s own now, clawing at you through the screen with various renditions of laughter and devil emojis. A few eggplants thrown in there for good measure, accompanied, naturally, by the scandalous water drops. At first the common consensus is that you’re biting the bullet and going through your camera roll on stream. Definitely an idea worth considering, though you frankly don’t know what lies at the start of the 11k photograph journey, and you are afraid to check in public. Could be a harmless meme, could be a salacious pic you had saved of an OF star. It’s really a gamble. Either way, you would definitely get banned. You might still get banned. Why do you insist on doing shit like this?

Because it’s funny. Because you’re kinda stupid. Because it’s just so absolutely laughably easy to do.

A smile quirks your lips, and while it is not explicitly smug, the look in your eyes sure is, “Greetings,” You utter lowly, dimming the lights--the budget for this stream! Ugh, you went all out, “my children.”

mother i crave violence

sensing evil energy rn!!

i do not claim the energy in this video for myself or anyone else watching this 💖💖

^with peace and love shut the fuck up

“I know y’all lowkey hoes-” Upon your words the chat splits into two: one side eagerly agrees (even shares a few OF accounts! How helpful, supporting small businesses!), whilst the other feverishly insists on innocence. You make a face stuck somewhere between offended and bewildered, “Now c'mon now-I know you. I know you all. We’re the same, don’t-what was that?”

You try to scroll back to the comment but it’s loss in the sea of incoming messages, “I swear to God I just saw-”

Corpse_Husband: i love late night streams it’s not like i have anything better to do.

“COOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORPSE!!!!” 

rip headphone users

i cant feel my face when im with you by the weeknd but instead of face its my fucking ears

yall think full vol on pc is better?my parents woke up 😭😭😭😭

To think he’s spending his last waking moments for today with watching you (he probably still would have anyway, because you do not posses an ounce of shame or self-control and pester him relentlessly)! It makes your heart sing, and suddenly, a traitorous, fun hating idea barges it’s way through the crowd of incoherent buzzing and states: don’t do this. For some reason it also has the voice of Rae. As if that would work in guilt-tripping you- Rae never succeed, and her fictitious rendition in mind won’t fare much better either.

Still, you thought about it. That must count for something. Corpse will understand, won’t he? Why don’t you want to upset it in the first place? Men look so funny when they lose their shit, like hello, don’t you have anything better to do? But the image of Corpse just sitting there, hurt, distraught, leaving you on seen because he’s in his sad boy hours leaves a sour taste in your mouth. 

queen rly went from  🥺😊 to 😕 u ok bbgirl?

Corpse_Husband: no pouts cutie

akjdjoeijdfse cUTIE??? deadass boutta r.i.p.

Well that succeeded in eliminating everything from mind, doubts included. If this was an anime, the scenery would shift into something roseate, with flowers and bubbles and sparkles all around you along with a halo or two. Alas, not an anime, rather reality. The led-lights, however, seemingly possessing a will of their own, slowly turn from deep violet to pink. You smile brightly, like the absolute dumbass you are, and you are met with a ray of heart and blushing emojis. You are just so cute, a real cutie! Still in your disguise adorable state, you swipe your finger on your phone screen, the grin never leaving your lips.

There, among the plethora of apps, nestled sits a red square with a white fire plastered on it. The delicate calligraphy on the bottom reads: TINDER.

The mood changes once again- you’re giving the roaches emotional instability by how quickly everything flips over- and the chat spams eggplants vigorously; some, of course, bravely fight against the thirst.

nooooooo i thought y/n is gonna stream in a god honoring way!!!

^pack it up girl defined

“So, Charlie and I-” You note a few awfully curious comments and squint, “-yes, we talk a lot. Charlie is a really good friend of mine. We’re best friends. Brothers. Sisters. Cousins. The whole fucking family tree-no, that sounds weird. Delete. Anyway, Charlie, being the absolute fucker he is, said, hey, you know what would be funny? And I was like, nooo, what would be funny, Charlie? And he says to me, he says, says, making fun of men on Tinder. And if y’all need any more proof that Charlie and I are platonic soulmates, then dunno, my children, my roaches, I dunno-I dunno what more to give you.”

You can’t be bothered reading the comments, there’s too damn many. You also need to save your reading comprehension for the actual bios. It has a time limit, that darn thing. 

“Okay, so I made a profile earlier, but I hadn’t swiped on anyone yet-” Despite the fact, Tinder helpfully informs you that already 99+ people have swiped right on you, “So, this is me,” You show the pictures you have of yourself, and damn, not to be a conceited narcissist, but you look really good. Like if you saw yourself on Tinder, you’d super like instantly. “Uhm, so, my bio-my bio says: let’s sauce in the tub together, ya dig? splishy splashy, giggle giggle.” 

i cant believe we are witnessing y/n trying to form a coherent sentence live 

shes trying give her time

ya dig??? y not capeesh

what scene from the godfather is this lol?

“My anthem, is,” You laugh, covering your lips with your hand, “Corpsie, this is form you-” Proudly, you show that indeed, Corpse’s E-GIRLS ARE RUINING MY FUCKING LIFE is listed as your anthem on Spotify, “Hehe.” Yes, you say that aloud.

Corpse_Husband: you’re killing me Corpse_Husband: thanks baby Corpse_Husband: now delete tinder ❤︎

You ignore his last quip, deciding it’s finally time to get this show on the road, “Right, let’s do this shit. I’m not actually going to swipe on any guys that look, uh, decent? Yuck, can’t believe I just said that, uhm, because I-because I feel like some actually deserve a chance with someone? I don’t wanna get anyone’s hopes up, as I am currently in a long distance relationship with Chrollo. So I’m just gonna swipe on, like, frat boy assholes. Because I don’t care if I hurt their feelings. Quite frankly I don’t think they possess them in the first place.”

The chat voices their agreements. With the ground rules set, you, giddy, click on the first profile.

Does Tinder know what you’re doing, your plan? The FBI agent watching you through your phone must be working overtime, bless his heart. They must, because the the first guy to meet you is named Jason, and there he is, blond hair and blue eyes, holding up a fish the size of his torso. Marginally adequate in looks, pretty good muscles. A solid 7 bordering on 8. He’s the same age as you, 15 miles away, and he studies at some college you don’t care enough to look up. Bio reads:

I like to drive fast. Fishing is my passion, but if you can’t catch me by the ocean, you’ll catch me catching waves, bro! Love a good gym date. You do squats, and I’ll keep a close eye to make sure you’re doing it correctly ;) You probably saw me at a party. Leader of the The Phi Kappa Psi. I’m a Gemini, if that matters lol.

You, of course, read it aloud, dramatically; provide some constructive criticism-he seems nice, but he’s a Gemini, so naturally, you can’t trust him at all! Also, that gym date session leaves little to be desired. With your rant done, you swipe right, and shocker! (not), it’s an instant match.

“Okie, I still wanna swipe of some profiles, so I’ll see what he’ll text later-” For a second you wonder the legalities of this stream, but you’re having too much fun to think of it further, “guys, I won't get sued, right?”

NOW she considers it

well....

if you do, we’ll kickstart your lawyer dw <3

Onto the next profile. Kevin, 25, is seen fixing his car- or, you assume he’s mid-fixing it, you don’t really know why else he’d hold a wrench and be covered in oil. He’s shirtless, and the caveman part of your brain echoes something closely resembling AWOOOGA!, but...but!...blonde hair, blue eyes. You pout again, “I don’t...I don’t really like blond boys, ya know? With the blue eyes and all, it’s just not my thing, uhm, unless it’s like-like...Armin from Attack on Titan. Else I don’t care.”

Onto the bio:

You have to treat a car like you treat a woman: go on long rides, take the lead, but most importantly, keep her oiled up 😜 

“What the fuck did I just read?”

The chat is equally confused. You swipe right anyway- another match. Too easy.

The stream continues without incident for a solid thirty minutes- all of your matches, expect a few that genuinely looked like normal dudes that really couldn’t write a decent bio to save their lives, had been blond hair blue eyed gym rats with ranging forms of misogyny. Some opened with asking for nudes out right, some asked about your day first before asking for nudes. You prefer the former. Straight to the point! You admire the gall. 

But then, down the forty-five minute mark a profile popped up that made you still by your phone, your smile dying as your eyes bulged. Dear God. Lord in heaven. Who is this demonspiit lookalike and why is he so fucking hot? The neck tats, the skateboard, the clothes- holy shit, you gotta close your mouth before some drool dribbles out.

No bio, just his name, Tyler, and that he’s 23.

“He boutta be 23 in me.” You mutter, swiping right with lightning speed.

WHAT DID SHE SAYYYYY?????????

tyler is y/ns karma for relentlessly mocking that one guy that had a whole ass list on what his “female” partner should be

^he deserved it and also tyler seems like a typical fuckboi y/n grow a braincell

look at mom 🥺 her eyes are sparkling

It wasn’t a match right away. You somehow expected as much, but it still upset you. Simp behavior, pathetic. The stream continued bravely, and when Tyler messaged you a simple “yo” you totally didn’t sequel. You didn’t manage to text him back on stream: texting all those guys that you didn’t really find all that attractive was easy, but this...You’re a sucker for a man who radiates red flag energy. His whole profile is a red flag. He might just be a red flag himself.

What can you do? Suddenly becoming color blind is not easy. Once the stream ends, you unmatch with everyone expect Tyler. He you chat with for a bit, but a sudden craving for different company makes you abandon him, too. You don’t feel too heartbroken for him- you’re certain there’s already too many girls in his dms. You wish them luck.

Happily, you delete Tinder. You go to Twitter, notice you’re trending again- look at you go! Queen shit- and as you compose a thank you tweet, something strange happens. You go to text Corpse, but when you click on his profile you grow cold.

YOU’RE BLOCKED. You can’t follow or see @/Corpse_Husband ‘s Tweets. 

...Pardon? You hop onto Instragram and-also blocked. Seriously? And you thought you’re one petty bitch. Corpse is seriously prissy about everything. Damn, if he didn’t like your stream, he could’ve just said so. Didn’t need to, like, block you from his internet existence. So not cool.

You try texting him but no text go through. Well how will you let him know you deleted Tinder just like he asked? You relieve your frustrations by punching your pillow a few times. Later, you apologize to her, you didn’t mean to hurt her, it’s not her, it’s you. Fuck, 5 minutes of exile and you’re already loosing your mind.

“Raeeeeeeeeeeee!” You whine loudly. It’s roughly 2am now, but you don’t care. You’re too heartbroken to care. There’s a thump from her room, but nothing else, “Raeeeeeeeee!!!” You wail, wallowing in self-pity on your bed. You hear a very loud, very annoyed sigh from her room, followed by angry marching. Your door is abruptly thrown open, and in the dim, colorful light you see her scowl.

“What?” She grits.

“Can you please tell Corpse to unblock me from everything?”

“What did you do now?”

“I made fun of men on Tinder.”

She pauses, “...That doesn’t sound so bad.” She surmises, voice laced with suspicion, “What else?”

“...There was one really hot guy that I kinda sorta talked to after--”

“Y/n.”

“-But I totally deleted Tinder and honestly he was pretty boring, so, like, uhm, please?”

She sighs, the servery of which implies she is holding the weight of the world on her shoulders, and instantly you know that you won. She taps away at her phone, “You owe me one.” She states, and before you can reply, she exits your room and slams the door behind her.

Grinning, you text his phone again. The message goes through, oh gosh, you’re so relieved you feel like crying. This has been, officially, the worst five minutes of your life.

You Y DID U BLOCK ME LOSER!!! MAJOR LOSER ALERT!! I DELETED EVERYTHING IT WAS A JOKE r u still mad at me? y u always mad at me i never do anything:(

my husband You’re my baby, how do you think I’ll react when I see you publicly simping for some asshole on Tinder?

Oh no, he used the words, he delivered the killing blow. You’re finished. Your heart can’t take such a workout. 

Not that you would ever admit it to him, though!

You hehe ur jellyyyy u always dis jealous hehe?

my husband Not jealous.

Yeah, you might not be the brightest tool in the shed, but even you know that’s a lie. You send him an array of kissy emojis that he doesn’t have the decency to reply to. Then, completely unprompted and dead serious, you send him a simple voice memo, saying: “You really have nothing to worry about, you know? You’re my favorite, Corpsie.”

He responds via text, reiterating that he’s not fucking jealous and that he just doesn’t like when you show such outward interest in anyone but it’s not like he cares or anything. It’s just really, like, weeeeird to see his baby simping for another man like that totally ruins the whole dynamic!!! It was only natural that he should block you on every social media platform, including his personal number (which, like, was completely necessary! Doesn’t matter that his viewers can’t see it, it’s gotta be super believable!), and inform his followers of that, because it’s all a joke, like, for the dynamic, that Youtube grind, you know? Ya dig? No personal feelings were involved at all. He totally wasn’t upset that you found someone else cute, no way!

my husband I’m not jealous. Lol.

You ik u repeated tht like 50 times  u trynna convince me or??? lmao

my husband No comment. ...You don’t actually talk to anyone else like we’re talking, right?

You no one else calls me their baby if thts wat ur wondering at least not to my knowledge lol im all urs

my husband That makes me very happy to hear:)

Yeah, it makes you very happy, too.

hope you liked it!! xx

[fnf-amateur-writing]

Hey! It’s Fox again! How are you doing? I just started school back up today, so I’ve been busy Xp.

Think you would be cool with writing some Pico with an s/o who is a writer, and tends to ask him about things like “hey, how long does it take someone to bleed out” or other things like that?

I understand if you don’t feel like it, and I hope you’re having fun 😊

🦊

Hello again Fox, I'm doing quite well rn. I'm cool with your prompt, especially since I need more writing material anyways.

Took me a while, because I didn't want to do a hc, but rather come up with a oneshot with a little twist to the style. Well, hope it works well.

Good luck with school, mate!

TW: Mentions of violence, swearing, slight sexual reference, and crime.

Pico with a writer S/O who asks him strange questions

Prologue:

On a chilly autumn morning, you were sitting out on your patio with a laptop and a mug of your favourite beverage next to you. Whenever you looked up, you could see the warm coloured leaves fall as the breeze accompanied you. The whole scene was an aesthetic.

When your boyfriend, Pico, came outside to see this, he knew that the nice environment you surrounded yourself with meant one thing. "You're back in your writing space already. Heh, with that bestseller you published, I thought you were comfy taking a break." You simply smiled and said, "can't waste the inspiration rush I got right now."

Pico had a good point though, with your rising popularity as an author, you were near set to retire before turning fourty. But you wish you weren't given all of the credit, since your boyfriend's stories of his dodgy job has occasionally sparked some ideas for your stories. However the books you wrote in the past were usually meant for the young adult and had few mature themes. This time, you thought maybe it's time to garner extra inspiration from those stories.

You were met with some disappointment when you realised that your mug was empty, only a drop entering your mouth. "Here, babe, I'll ya some more," Pico said, taking your mug and walking inside. "Quick question," you stopped him. "Yeah?"

"What would be the best place for a murder cemetery?"

"... What?"

Chapter 1:

"So you're doing some story about the police hunting down a mass murderer?"

"Pretty much."

"And to think you were gonna write Pixar's next script. Aight' I respect that." Pico takes a seat next to you with a refill of your drink placed next to your favourite writing laptop. "Thanks, Pico. But yeah, I want to branch out to something edgier, and I think you can help too."

"Let me show you what I've got so far." You showed him some of your notes in a little notepad document, detailing the story thus far and your current plans for this chapter. "Oh, that's it? Just looks like boring police preparation mainly," Pico commented. "Yeah, it's not much right now. But it'll get juicy later." "And bloody?" "And bloody."

"Welp, I'm gonna head back in," Pico got up, "let me know if you need anything." He head back inside, closing the door, but then opened it almost immediately afterwards. Pico stuck his head out, "by the way, the guy should use some strong alcohol or something to throw off those sniffer dogs."

Chapter 2:

"And then, because they used a silencer, the police don't immediately notice the--"

"Nope! I'm calling bullshit (Y/N)!" Pico had suddenly interrupted your explanation of the scene you were currently working on. "Silencers can help prevent some hearing loss, sure, but they're not magic."

"Alright," you reply, "no silencer, but the killer still has to kill in a way to not get blood on them, so I thought shooting and killing them from a distance would work." "Well, they're alone. Instead, have the guy get shanked in the neck or something, and have the killer use a plastic bag as a glove. It saved my ass one time."

"Woah!" you exclaimed with a giggle, "you used a knife once? What happened to my trigger happy boyfriend, huh? That's pretty sus."

"I forgot to reload the Uzis, alright?"

"What an impostor would say."

Chapter 3:

"What would be the best way to muffle the scream of someone you kidnapped?"

You two were sitting on the couch together watching a show. You didn't have your laptop on you, so Pico didn't expect you to still be thinking about that book. "I can't say from experience, really," he said as he paused the show. "However, shove a rag in their mouth and duct tape it in, and you should be good."

"Thanks Pico, also one more thing." "Yeah?" "What if our killer also wanted to..." God, this one was gonna be awkward, but you had to say it or else no help. "You know, cut off this victim's willy. How would you do that?"

"Wai-wha-uh-ga," Pico started fumbling his words like never before. He stopped, then took a deep breath. "YO, WHAT THE FUCK?!" "It'll make sense in the story later, I promise!" You watch Pico begin to lose it, breaking into laughter. "Ladies, gentlemen, and others," Pico dramatically stood up, pulling a little Showcaster impression and directing his arms towards you, "my famous 'young' adult novelist partner!"

Chapter 4:

It was in the dead of night, but you awoke to Pico on his phone. His vpn was on and Tor was up. As per usual, he was checking up on his little hitman service, where others could request for a certain someone's guts to fly if they paid him a hefty sum first. Though tired, you ound this to be the best time to ask him some more questions.

"Pico, how do those sites work?"

"Oh, you're awake," Pico blankly stated, sleepy too. But he still answered you. "Basically, some anonymous rich guys in the area give me money and a target, then I just do the thing and send a mission accomplished email." "Do they pay you in person?" "Nah, we use always use Bitcoin. It's a lot harder to trace than real money."

"Thanks Pico. Goodnight," you wish him, yawning and going back to sleep. "You too... So this guy is a hit man too?" "Hush. Tomorrow." "Okay." Pico puts his phone away, leaving it on a nightstand. You then spoon the night away, peacefully thinking of murder as you drifted off.

Chapter 5:

On a morning similar to before, you two sat on the patio with your drinks and laptop at the ready. Pico watched rather awkwardly as you typed away, wondering why you haven't entertained him with another question yet.

"You gonna ask anything else?" "What? Oh, nah," you plainly state. Inevitable, sure, but he was kind of saddened. He liked being able to share his messed up wisdom. "So, you're done?" "Almost." You turn to look at him, "want the spoilers?" Pico smiled, "sure thing."

In the novella you and Pico crafted together, the main character is a cop who hunts down a killer. They eventually notice that there would be two murders at a time for unknown reasons. Well, it was unknown until one victim had left up a dark web hit man for hire site. They that the hit man not only kills the target, but the client as a hidden price for the service.

And any request will be fulfilled, according to the hit man's site.

"Do they catch 'em?" Pico asked. "Well, ANY request is granted. So, if our hero were to... hire him to kill himself..."

"No way!"

"He did. They find both of their bodies in his bedroom."

Pico was a bit impressed with the ending you came up with, but then he remembered something. "Why did that guy get his thing cut off?" "Lol, I forgot," you giggled. "He sent a message to the hit man, saying he wishes the target would choke on his dick."

"That's my favourite part."

Epilogue:

After everything was finished up, you sent the book off to your editor. After the initial joy of knowing how the story ended, you saw that Pico was still in thought. "What's up with you?" "Oh nothing, well it's just... I'm probably just biased, being that I'm a bit of a hitman myself, but it's kind of sad to see the guy go."

"Then I should spoil the epilogue I came up with." Rather than being excited, Pico nervously asked, "what's an epilogue?" He didn't get an answer, only you staring at him. "Sorry, school held too many bad memories for me to pay attention."

"Anyways," you continue, "the rest of the police gang did some background checks, and find that our killer was a normal guy with no criminal history."

"Penilian?"

"No. But I did decide to take a more supernatural approach here. Somewhere across the country, another string of double homicides occur and that site is active once more. And the story kind of repeats itself."

"Penilian."

"You joker," you give him a playful little kiss on the cheek, one that definitely caught him off guard. "So is it canon?" Pico smirked. "Nah, just thanking you for being my cute little co-author." "Oh," Pico started, "so we're flirtin' now, huh. Come here babe!" He tackled you onto the ground, giving you several kisses in exchange.

"Actually, I think we call that 'making out'," you chuckle out, flustered. "But that doesn't mean I said stop'!" You pull him in for more, accidentally bonking your heads together rather painfully. "Nice double kill there, (Y/N)."

[meltwonu]

| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 |     [CHAPTER 2]

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; cam show, masturbation, dirty talk, sir!kink, tiny jealous!seungcheol. Wow! Thank you all so much for your interest in Cherry Bomb and our very favorite simp! LMAO 😆 And thank you all for being so patient! I know one week drags on when ur waiting for content so thank you so so so so so much for your patience! 🥰🍒 also, some new characters in this, am sorry if ur not a fan but the rest of svt r also simps in this so we had to expand a bit 🤪 HAHAHA HAPPY BIRTHDAY SEUNGCHEOL!!!

chapters; 1 - 2 - ? 

It’s 10:05AM when Seungcheol makes it to work, tossing his things in his employee locker before pocketing his phone and heading out to the floor for the day.

He’d gotten approximately 3 hours of sleep and the giddiness was still eating him up when he greets Jeongguk; the tall male that works at the concession stand at the roller rink.

“Hey Seungcheol-hyung! Whoa, you look like you didn’t get any sleep, what happened to you?” The two share a laugh; Seungcheol ruffling his own hair as he sighs. “I couldn’t sleep last night, I was just too… Uh, excited about w-work…” He stutters out, Jeongguk’s eyebrow raised almost immediately at the blatant lie.

“Hyung, we’ve been working here for months. No offense, but nobody gets excited about coming here. Yoongi-hyung is hiding in the restroom as we speak.” Jeongguk deadpans, eyes rolling as he passes Seungcheol a water bottle. “Did you get laid?”

Not really, but kinda? But no, Seungcheol thinks.

“Nah, I just, I got a new PC game and I stayed up all night playing. You know how it is!” Jeongguk nods in understanding.

Seungcheol checks his phone for the umpteenth time since he’d woken up and you still hadn’t texted him. Not that he entirely expected to be woken up to a text message from you, but he perhaps had dreamt of it; waking up and scrambling to find the device while he shook the sleep from his eyes.

Sighing, he pockets the device, swiping the water bottle off of the countertop before he shoots Jeongguk a fixed stare. “When does Namjoon-hyung get back from his vacation?” Namjoon was one of the managers who’d gone on an extended vacation recently which left Seungcheol picking up extra shifts. 

On normal occasions, he would’ve politely declined but seeing as it meant extra cash, he practically begged to take them.

“Mmm, dunno. Maybe like a week?” Seungcheol mentally cheers; that meant one more week of extra pay even if he dragged his tired body home every night. He would finally be able to buy you that Sybian that he’d been saving up for. You never asked for one but Seungcheol liked to spoil you and quite frankly, he wanted to see you fall apart on it while you thought of him.

“Cool, well, I’ll be disinfecting the rollerskates. Tell Yoongi-hyung to come help me if he ever emerges from the restroom.”

“You got it, hyung!”

In the time between leaving Jeongguk at the concession stand and the fourth pair of skates he’s disinfected, a party of ten show up at the roller rink; loud and obnoxious as they set their things everywhere. He sighs, knowing exactly that he would be the one to clean up the mess afterwards.

Seungcheol watches the gaggle of teens fumble all over the rink, a sigh on his lips as he sanitizes another pair of skates. He contemplated every single day if it was worth working at the old and usually empty rollerskating rink, but he had to admit, it paid obscenely well. Nobody wanted to work there so his boss basically paid him double his old wage; silent screams running through his head as soon as he realized that meant he can afford to spoil you with more gifts. That had been hard when he was working at the diner down the street.

“Hey ‘Cheol, some kid broke the wheels off of his rental skates. D’you think you can go handle it?” Yoongi drawls, eyes glued to his phone as he waits for Seungcheol’s reply.

Goddamnit.

“Sure, let me just finish cleaning these.”

Yoongi nods, walking off. Seungcheol sets the old pair of skates down, dusting off his work pants as he stands up. He feels his phone vibrate in the pocket, fishing it out to check what it is.

[cherry_clouds has gone live!]

His vision goes red; pupils shaking when he sees it. You never went live this early in the day. He can feel his throat going dry, panicked screaming in his head when he realizes his break isn’t for another hour and a half and your shows usually lasted at least 45 minutes on a short day. But Seungcheol can’t miss this; not after the two of you had spoken last night.

Seungcheol’s teeth clench as he glances around the loud room, seeing his co-workers on the floor. He just needed to catch your show for at least 15 minutes and he swore he’d be fine.

“Fuck them kids.” He mutters under his breath, beelining for the employee restroom.

Seungcheol says a thankful prayer, locking the door behind him as he sits on the countertop. Just a few minutes; 20 tops. He lowers the volume so nobody can hear your voice except for him.

tangerine_kwan: whoa, a morning show?

alphagyu97: for once, i’m glad i wake up early

xcaliburDK: honestly, same

You giggle on screen, wiping the sleepiness from your eyes as you stretch out on your bedsheets. Seungcheol smiles appreciatively; you’d slept in the cute sheer lavender babydoll he’d sent you when you first hit 5k subs. “I know… it’s really rare, huh? I woke up and I felt so needy… I was so wet when I woke up…” He watches with bated breath as you tease yourself, running your hands from your torso down between your legs.

artist8hao: oh? what’s on your mind, doll?

universe_WZ: what did i miss

“I was just thinkin’, y’know? I couldn’t sleep last night after I finished all the important stuff I had to do~ ‘n you didn’t miss anything yet~” You tease, fingertips pressing into your soaking panties as you moan.

dom.cheol: i couldn’t sleep either… too busy thinkin’ about you ;)

Seungcheol feels the adrenaline pulsing through his veins, checking how much time has passed since he holed up in the restroom.

dom.cheol has donated $50

therealchan99 has donated $25

therealchan99: all the insomniacs are probably cryin rn

sleepy_wonu: speak for yourself, i’m deadass in the middle of my forensics lab with headphones on and the screen dimmed to hell

“Oho~ Is our sleepy_wonu trying to be a forensics scientist?” You giggle, biting your lip cutely as you stare into the camera lens.

sleepy_wonu: ya, maybe i can buy you gifts if i ever start getting paid big bucks

Seungcheol’s eyes narrow at the comments, jealousy bubbling up at one of your other regulars. He typically tried to keep his jealousy in check, knowing that just because he showered you with gifts didn’t mean the two of you were exclusive or that you owed him anything. And he especially knew you always liked to engage with your viewers and ask them about themselves.

“Hmm~ Our dom.cheol seems quiet this morning~ Everything okay, sir?” Seungcheol feels the arousal pouring over his body and he tries to will it away;  after all, he still needed to get back to work once you were done.

dom.cheol: everything’s ok, sweetheart. you’re very cute in the morning

Your eyes pierce the camera and Seungcheol can momentarily feel his breath stop; fingertips clutching his phone for dear life.

“Mmm, I went to sleep last night dreamin’ of nice and strong hands pinning me down to my bed ‘n fuckin me into the sheets…” You pause, slipping the sheer babydoll over your head which left you only in your lace panties. “And there was a really really really dominating voice making me cum and tellin’ me to take all of his cock and oh~ god, it’s like I could feel it!” You finish, slipping your soaking panties off before you spread your legs wide for the camera.

You don’t waste any time, plunging two fingers deep into your pussy as you keen, toes curling against the sheets as you start fucking yourself.

“Ngh, fu--fuck, ‘n they made me cum over and, hah, o-over, fucking my pussy ‘n my ass… ‘n then cumming down my throat… Mmh and I still wanted more even when they filled me up with so much cum~”

Seungcheol’s throat is drier than a desert, almost dropping his phone as he listens to you. There was absolutely no way you weren’t talking about him.

tangerine_kwan: holy shit

dom.cheol: what else, baby

You curl your fingers, barely able to touch your g-spot and it makes you wonder for a second how well Seungcheol could finger you and how much of his cock you could take.

“A-ah, and--mmh, and I--I kept begging ‘Sir, p-please fuck me more!’ ‘n I felt so f-full… God, it felt so real~ I really needed to cum when I woke up so I turned on my cam~” You whine, thumb pressing down onto your clit. You hated to admit it but thinking of Seungcheol’s deep voice and obscenely handsome good looks was enough to make you cum once more before you even went to sleep and now even your subconscious seemed to crave the devilishly handsome male.

alphagyu97 has donated $75

dom.cheol has donated $250

artist8hao: those cute ‘lil fingers enough to satisfy your greedy pussy?

Mewling, you start rubbing circles on your clit, chasing the quickly growing urge to cum. The sound of donations flood your ears but all you can think of is Seungcheol’s deep voice groaning and growling into your ear. “No~ I want m-more but… but I came so much last night too! Maybe I am a ‘lil greedy, huh?” You tease, adding a third finger as you moan loudly. The stretch felt good; head imagining Seungcheol’s fingers as you fuck yourself faster.

dom.cheol: why don’t you cum? I can see you want to, sweetheart.

“Mmm, is it okay, sir? Can I cum already?” You ask shyly, batting your eyelashes at the camera as Seungcheol grits his teeth, cock throbbing in his work pants. He would definitely need to take care of this before he stepped back out onto the floor.

dom.cheol: cum, babygirl, you deserve it.

Your eyes snap shut right after you read Seungcheol’s comment, biting your lip as you race to your orgasm. The sound of your fingers fucking into your wet pussy and your moans are all Seungcheol can hear, pupils blown wide knowing you just came thinking about him, probably. Or so he hoped, at least.

You can feel your legs shaking, threatening to snap shut as your orgasm crests; the sound of rapid fire donations battering your ears as you cum hard on your own fingers. Choked sobs and cries are all you can muster, shapes dancing behind your eyelids the entire time the pleasure washes over you.

xcaliburDK: well goddamn, good morning to me

sleepy_wonu: fuck

universe_WZ: i… speechless

Seungcheol smiles smugly to himself, mentally patting himself on the back.

“Mm… ‘m so tired…” You murmur, slipping your wet fingers from inside your pussy as you moan at the emptiness. Seungcheol watches as you lick your fingers, cleaning them off before you lay on your side facing the camera.

universe_WZ: i think u deserve a nap

alphagyu97: yea, cuz holy shit fuck that was hot

therealchan99: god i love it when u dirty talk

j__min has donated $400

j__min: me too, dollface ;)

Confusion crosses Seungcheol’s face at the newcomer, blood draining from his body at how much they seemed to donate on the first go.

“Huh? Oh! Do we have a new regular?” You inquire, sleepiness lacing your voice. A nap was definitely needed after the last 24 hours of your life.

j__min: ur quite cute, might need to keep my eye on u princess ;)

dom.cheol has donated $450

That’ll show them, Seungcheol thinks. He didn’t often think of himself as competitive either, but goddamn, would he go the extra mile for you.

You giggle tiredly on camera and he can see the sleepiness in your eyes, watching with fondness as you answer a few more comments, yawning cutely as you stretch out on the bedsheets again. He mentally thanks you for not giving the newcomer any extra attention.

dom.cheol: take a nap, sweetheart.

Nodding, you yawn once more. “Okay, everyone~ I think I’m gonna take that nap you all seem to want me to take, hehe~ ‘n then I’ll probably wake up and get some food delivered ‘cause I’m still really tired after last night… But I just can’t help it, y’know? Sometimes I just wanna be fucked nice ‘n hard by a real cock~” Winking, you say your goodbyes, thanking them for their donations and support; blowing the camera a kiss before you end the stream.

Seungcheol lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, body slumping atop the counter. He had loads of questions now that you were off air. Firstly, were you thinking about him? Secondly, who the fuck was j__min?

Shaking the thoughts from his head, he checks the clock. 45 minutes. He groans. At least nobody had come looking for him.

Seungcheol places his phone down onto the counter, biting his lip and palming himself over his work pants before he thinks, screw it.

A satisfied groan spills from his lips as soon as he wraps a hand around his throbbing cock, not wasting another second before he starts a quick pace. He imagines your tight pussy and your face contorting in pleasure as he fucks you into your own bedsheets, thrusting up into his clenched fist as the images linger in his mind. Licking his lips, he thinks about your sweet moans as you beg him for more, stray tears slipping down your cheeks when you call him ‘sir’ through choked sobs.

And it doesn’t take long before Seungcheol is cumming, teeth biting into his bottom lip to keep his noises in as the euphoria washes over him.

He sighs, sated, as he slows down his strokes, thankful he didn’t get any cum on his work pants.

Seungcheol gives himself a second to catch his breath, shuffling off of the countertop to get cleaned up before he steps back out. He grimaces when he meets his own eyes in the dingy mirror; he’d just gotten off at work while you did an extremely rare morning show. Granted, it wasn’t the lowest he’d ever felt but definitely was a contender.

Shaking his head, he steps back out, the outdated pop music hitting his ears as soon as the roller rink comes back into view.

The gaggle of teens are still on the floor, Jeongguk looks unbothered and Yoongi sits by the skate rental booth; not a single one of them even noticing he was missing for the approximate hour he was in the restroom.

He really loved his job.

That night, Seungcheol trudges home more tired than he usually is.

You still hadn’t texted him, which was fine. But he had checked his phone every second he had free, zoning out when he saw no new notifications.

Seungcheol toes his shoes off once he crosses the threshold of his studio apartment, making his way to the sofa before he flops down onto it. He scrolls through a few apps, mindlessly reading a few things before his stomach growls.

“Guess I should eat…” He mumbles to himself, placing his phone onto his chest before he closes his eyes for a second. Sighing, he relaxes, almost falling asleep. It was generally really loud at work with the people and the music always blaring, so he liked to bask in the quietness whenever he had the chance to.

This time, however, the peace and quiet doesn’t last long when his phone vibrates on his chest, alerting him of a text message. He grabs his phone at lightning speed, eyes wide when he sees a text message from an unknown number. Quickly opening the notification, his pupils shake as he recognizes your typing style almost immediately.

Unknown Number: Cheollie~ ><;; ‘m sorry I didn’t text sooner… i was kinda shy… and i slept so much too hehe~ oops~ i hope i’m not bothering you? i didn’t know when it was a good time…

Seungcheol shakes his head at his phone, sitting up as the excitement blooms within him again. He take a moment to figure out the best response, typing and erasing the same sentence three times before he sends it.

‘Not at all, sweetheart. ;) How was your nap?’

[songbirdsingingthings]

Daisies - Shouto Todoroki x Reader

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS, THEY BELONG TO KOHEI HORIKOSHI

I should really be going to bed rn but instead I had an idea while listening to some music and got really in my feels SO HERE IT IS <3

Warnings: Angst ending in fluff You could see it in the way that he carried himself. Shouto was nowhere near who he used to be when you first started dating. You missed the stolen glances the two of you shared, the red that took up residence on his cheeks whenever you came into the room, and the subtle touch he gave your hand which indicated that he wanted to hold it in his. You remembered when he would do anything in his power to get home to your shared apartment so that you could have dinner together and maybe watch a movie. Now when he got home, if he came home at all, it would be way past dinner and bordering on the next day. You used to stay up for him, waiting to put his meal you had prepared in the microwave so it could be warm by the time you helped him put away his coat and work bag when he came home from the agency. At first, you believed that it would only be a couple days of this, but those days turned into weeks, and those weeks turned into 3 months. You stopped staying up almost 3 days ago.

Currently, you were on the phone with your mother who was begging you for more details on your two year relationship.

“I know you know this, but your father proposed to me after two years of dating, about as long as you and your boyfriend have been dating,” she said, making you swallow a lump that was lodged in your throat. 

“You’re right Mom, I do know this. You tell me every chance you get,” you say in a joking voice with your voice as blank as a slate. You loved your mother, you really did. However, recently, she felt the need to hint at a proposal that you knew was not coming soon, if at all. For the duration, the two of you had never talked about marriage or if you thought about wanting to get married.

“I’m just saying, you would look beautiful in a white dress with a bouquet of daisies walking down the aisle. Where is Shouto? I haven’t been able to reach him in a while, can you put him on the phone for me?” At her words, you rub your eyes with your right hand and will yourself not to cry. You’ve already cried enough these past two weeks.

“U-um,” you begin, your voice wavering, “he’s n-not home. Probably won’t be for a while.”

“...Honey, is something the matter?” She asks, concern laced in her voice. It’s the soft comfort in her voice that makes you break. You sob into the phone, letting your tears run down your face.

“M-mom I’m so scared,” you say, crying through your words. “I-I don’t think he loves me anymore.” You feel your body shake from your weeping, now holding onto the edge of the kitchen counter for support. 

“Oh, Y/N...” your mother says, her voice quiet.

“He hasn’t come home for days and when he does come home, I feel like we’re strangers. I haven’t been able to talk to him and see what’s actually going in his life in so long that now our conversations are one of us commenting on the weather. THE WEATHER!” You scream into the phone as you walk over to your couch and collapse onto it. Your mother stays quiet as you vent, and boy, do you vent. On how Shouto’s given you the excuse of ‘work’ when you know for a fact that your friend Ochaco’s husband, Midoriya, worked at the same level that Shouto did and he came home at 7:30 sharp every night, and she lived ten minutes farther away from the agency than you did. How he hasn’t made an effort to try and take you on a date in months. How he’s stopped doing anything to make you feel like you were in a relationship.

“Y/N, you know what you have to do.” Your mother says, her voice serious.

“If you’re implying that I should break up with him-”

“No honey. You need to talk to him, and not about the weather. You need to tell him what you just told me and how much his actions have been hurting you. And, if he doesn’t see the fault in his actions, that’s when I would let him go. If anything happens, you can always have your old room back. I miss your cooking anyways, I feel like the house has downgraded from a 5-star restaurant to a 2-star one ever since you moved out.” This earned her a light laugh from you as you began to wipe the salty tears from your cheeks and take a deep breath.

“Thank you Mom,” you say.

“I’m always here for you Y/N, you know that. I’ll always be in your corner,” she says. You say goodbye and exit from your phone app to open up messages. You send Shouto a simple and concise message.

Y/N: I would really appreciate it if you could get home a little earlier tonight. We need to talk.

What shocked you was that almost immediately after, you saw the three dots pop up on the opposite side of the screen.

Shouto: Okay. Something up?

You were definitely not going to be starting this conversation over text. Absolutely not.

Y/N: We’ll talk when you get home.

The three dots didn’t pop up again, so instead, you decided to make dinner. You prepared a simple yet fail-safe comfort dinner for yourself, (favorite meal). Just as you finished fixing a plate for yourself and covered the rest in foil, you heard the faint jingle of keys outside of the apartment door. Your eyes dart up and your heart begins to beat wildly. Not in months has he been home early enough to have dinner with you - you thought you would’ve had more time to prepare what you were going to say to him. The door swings open to reveal Shouto with his work bag slung around his shoulder, hero costume stuffed in it. That detail stood out to you - never has Shouto not folded it carefully in order to prevent wrinkles. He dropped his bag near the front door and slid off his shoes. When he met your eyes, you stopped chewing instantly. The two of you stayed in your positions, perfectly still, until you slowly got up and grabbed an extra plate, putting a good portion of the meal you made onto it, and set it across from your spot at the dining room table. As you were sitting back down, Shouto walked towards you slowly, warily. It was like he was trying not to spook you. Like if he made any abrupt movements, you would jump up out of your chair and run for the hills. In his hand, you noticed, he held a daisy, which he placed on the table. Daisies always used to be a thing between the two of you. On your first date, he had taken you on a picnic in a meadow surrounded by the white dainty flowers. Daisies meant that you loved the other person. Taking a forkful of the food and placing it into his mouth, you could see him relax a bit. He always had a soft spot for your cooking, no matter what he felt like. The silence was overwhelming as the two of you ate, so Shouto decided to clear his throat.

“It’s been a long time since we had dinner together, huh.” He says. This simple sentence, just those 11 words, set you off. You slam your fork onto the table making Shouto jump a bit in his chair.

“Yes, Shoto, it has been. It’s been 3 months and 5 days since we last shared a meal together.” You say, venom leaking from your voice. Shouto instantly knew what this ‘talk’ you wanted to have was about. Just as he was about to open his mouth to respond, you cut him off. “No,” you simply say, “let me speak first. I could forgive the first couple of weeks when you came home late or said you had to stay over at the agency, but good god, what has been consuming all of your time that has made you spend more hours there than you have at home? I know for a fact that Midoriya works in the same department and has the same title and responsibilities that he has, but he’s home at 7:30 on the dot every night to see his wife and have dinner with her.” You snarl. “You haven’t been visiting home, I’ve called Natsuo and Fuyumi to ask if you were there and they said no. You haven’t been visiting your mother because the nurse makes sure to send an alert to our computer system for security reasons. So what, what has consumed your life in such a way that you don’t want to spend your time with me anymore?” As much as you tried, you couldn’t help it. You feel the moisture on your cheeks before you can comprehend that you're crying. Shouto’s face falls, his heart breaking as he can see yours has been crumbled for a long time.

“Y/N… I’m so sorry,” he says, his gaze never faltering from yours. He takes a deep breath and stands from his seat, making his way over to yours and kneeling in front of you. “I…,” he choked out. You always knew that putting his feelings into words has never been one of Shouto’s strong suits, so you granted him the time to slowly get his thoughts together. “I freaked out.” He said simply.

“W-what?” You said, confused.

“I know we’ve been together for a long time, and I know that you’re looking for someone to settle down with and I freaked out because I didn’t think that I was a person who could do that.” You close your eyes and exhale. “I’ve been staying out late because I’ve been going to counseling, and I couldn’t let it get in the way of work. I wanted to help myself so that I could make the both of us happy and partake in an equal and loving relationship. I know I should’ve told you, but I… I just couldn’t get myself to spit it out.” You slid from the chair to your knees so you could be on the same level as Shouto was. Shouto rustled around in his jacket pocket and what was in his hands made your eyes widen. It was a small velvet box which left little to imagine what was inside. Before he could say another word, you put a hand on top of it to prevent him from opening it. This caused panic to flash in his eyes as they darted up to look into yours. 

“Shouto… I love you. You know that I love you, but are you sure?” You make sure to squeeze his hand. “I need you to be completely sure before you do this, because I am, and I can’t imagine myself with anyone else.”

“Yes.” He says, instantly. You smile and lean your forehead against his. What confuses him is when you grab the box and nestle it back into his coat pocket.

“This is not me saying no. I just think we need to get back into our old groove before this happens. We both know that we want to reach that milestone, but we need to run there first, okay?” You ask. Shouto exhales and reaches his hand up to cup your cheek.

“Okay. You share a kiss and let yourselves cry and hold the other. Shouto’s strong arms now move to tighten around your waist, which sends you over the moon. He hadn’t done that in a long time. 

“Let’s go to bed, yeah? I don’t want you to be late tomorrow.” You whisper, sniffling.

“No. I’ll shoot Midoriya a text telling him that I’m not gonna be in tomorrow. I want to make up for lost time.” Elated, more tears trail down your cheek, but these were happy ones. Letting Shouto pick you up, he carried you with such care to your soft bed and helped you get changed into pajamas. He taps your shoulders to get you to hold your arms straight up so that he can slide the blouse you wore to work today off of you. You unclip the pinchy bra you wore yourself and slid down the flowy pants you wore until they pooled around your feet. Shouto handed you one of his shirts, the one you’ve always had a soft spot for. It was now ragged with holes and falling apart at the seams, but the softness of the material enveloped you as he helped your arms through the sleeves. When you poked your head through the top of the shirt, Shouto gently gathered your hair and pulled it out of the shirt, laying it down your back. He himself then got changed and climbed into bed next to you. The two of you were like magnets with opposite poles, immediately being attracted to the other’s side. You lay your head on his chest and you feel his chin find its place on top of your head. You finally felt peaceful. Felt loved. And, more importantly, felt Shouto at your side.

“I love you,” he breathes. The air he exhales tickles your neck which only makes you nestle into him more.

“And I love you,” You murmur.

“We’re going to get married one day, okay?” He says, brushing a hand over your hair and playing with the ends of it.

“Okay.” You smile, a smile gracing your face as you drift off. Shouto’s heart didn’t slow to its normal pace until hours later. He was proud of himself. He finally admitted to himself that he was ready to enter a relationship where he knew that both of you felt the same way. For the entire time the two of you dated, he knew that he loved you, but he was terrified that one day, a switch would go off and his parents’ relationship would become yours. But now, with you in his arms agreeing to marry him one day, although he hadn’t yet formally proposed, guided him into a blissful sleep. Dreamworld decided to be nice to him, because all he could picture in his mind as he slumbered away were images of you, rings, and daisies

[jefferoni-quotes]

I'm having a pretty hard time rn (my grandpa passed away two days ago and my best friend and me had a major fall out the day before) so.. could you maybe give me some fluff? I don't care who about, I just need something nice and sweet -

First of all, anon, I'm so sorry about your grandpa! I hope you're okay, if not feel free to message me!

Take this short, fluffy Jamilton which had been sitting in my drafts for months. Thanks for making me finish this!

a copier room for two

Jamilton, 973 words

Reblogs > Likes

tw for anxiety

Full fic under the cut!

Jefferson grabs Alexander by the arm and tugs him down the hall. The office is long empty, the employees filed home hours previous. A rumble of thunder breaks the unpleasant silence, and Hamilton lets out a pathetic whimper, suppressing the overwhelming urge to curl up into a ball. 

Jefferson is still pulling, less harsh and more caring with a focused expression plastered over his features. If he weren't so utterly caught in the net of fear, Alexander would've taken a moment to admire him. 

They turn a corner, a left he notes and then a door is thrown open with urgency. Another loud clap of thunder and a strike of lightning has involuntary tears tracking down Hamilton's cheeks. A choked sob comes from one of them, and it takes Alexander a second to realise it was him. He's guided by a strong hand into the room, a printer room, how classy he thinks. 

The door shuts and a light flickers on, suddenly the storm is nonexistent. Standing before him is a tired looking Thomas Jefferson. His usual arrogant smirk is replaced with a sad looking frown, his forehead wrinkles with the expression. He looks old. Well, not old. But older than he is. As far as Alexander knows, Jefferson is thirty-five, a full four years older than Hamilton, but he could easily pass for his mid-forties. 

Jefferson opens his mouth to speak, and that familiar sultry drawl does not escape. The accent itself is the same, but his tone has changed dramatically. His voice is quieter, lighter. He sounds more friendly, approachable and in a way… shy? It's an emotion he wasn't aware the ignorant jerk possessed, but it was a breath of fresh air. 

"This is the only soundproof room on this floor," Jefferson breathes, stepping away from the door, releasing the handle.

Alexander sighs. That's how he can no longer hear the crash of thunder. There aren't any windows either, so he's safe from seeing any of the storm too. Then he raises a questioning eyebrow. "How do you know that?"

He examines with intent as Jefferson's face lights up red, all the way up to his ears. The blush isn't as noticeable as it would be, and he susses the man must be grateful for his darker skin hiding his fluster. "Unimportant," he mutters and turns back to the door. "Would you like me to leave?"

Alexander blinks a few times. Despite being unable to see or hear the storm, he knows it's out there. And he really doesn't want to be alone. "Stay? Just until it's gone?" He musters the willpower to ask for help, and it doesn't feel good. Not until Jefferson lets go of the handle again and nods, his hands dropping to his sides like he doesn't know what to do with them.

With a moment of silence washing over them, Alexander sinks to the floor, tugging his knees up to his chest. The tears haven't ceased in their tirade of running down his face, and he sniffs as he realises this fact. His - admittedly hot - political rival has seen him at his lowest point. Great.

He doesn't notice Jefferson sitting down next to him until a thumb graces just below his eye and wipes a bitter tear away. He flinches and the hand is gone. He looks over, Jefferson automatically glances away. This is a side he's never seen of the man. This shy, bashful, quiet man is such a difference to the cocky piece of shit Alexander knows. 

They sit in silence for a minute longer, enjoying the feeling of not arguing. Alexander has calmed down significantly when Jefferson speaks.

"When I have panic attacks I come in here." He says with a simple shrug, but his eyes shine with fear and regret as soon as the words pass his lips.

"What?" Alexander asks, exasperated. He takes big gasping breaths.

"You asked me how I know this room is soundproof," Thomas (when did Jefferson become Thomas?) reminds him. "Well, I come in here when I'm having a panic attack, or I need to cry or whatever." The man looks away, averting his eyes from a confused Alexander. 

"What? When you need to…?" Alexander's voice wavers with the effort to hold himself together, for his and Thomas' sake.

Thomas catches his bottom lip between his teeth, rolls it back and forth as he considers his words. "Cry, or I'm panicking. Usually twice a week at least."

"When was the last time-?" Alexander asks, throat thick. It feels as though he's the cause of this.

"Yesterday-" Thomas announces, "you called me a pathetic disgrace to the earth," he adds, glancing off. The storm may have stopped by now, and yet neither dare move. 

Alexander caught his bottom lip between his teeth, rolled it back and forth nervously before letting it go. "I'm- sorry about that. You're… you're not that bad actually."

Thomas scoffs. "No, Hamilton. I am that bad."

Shaking his head, Alexander cuts in. "You're not. You wouldn't have helped me if you were."

Thomas snorts out a soft laugh and drops his head to Alex's shoulder absent-mindedly, not thinking about his actions. "You're not so bad yourself, Hamilton."

"Alexander," he corrects, threading his fingers through Thomas' curls. They spring - much to Alex's delight - to the touch. Not only that, but Thomas makes no objections, merely leans closer to Alexander.

"You're not so bad, Alexander," he repeats, name changed to fit better. It brings a gentle smile to Alex's face, and in this moment he's completely forgotten where they are. In his mind, they're no longer huddled in a cramped printer room, there is no storm outside and Thomas hasn't just opened up about his anxiety to him. No, it's just him and Thomas in their own little world together.

And it's perfect for now.

-

Tag list (ask to be added!):

@a-nice-tea-time @skyluni @khiara1776 @beetlejuicebeetlejuicebeeeecause @slushy-sloosh-musical-person @patt0n-sanders @karixx @tryingtohealandgrow @justthehopeleft @pufflypuffle @swagdiplomatlightkid @i-can-get-extra-with-my-ships @revolutionary-romanticv

Reblogs > Likes!

Comments make my day!!! ♥️

[navyhyuck]

week two | previous | masterlist | next

𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐄𝐃, 𝐉𝐀𝐘.

↳ a love letter a week, and it has you wondering who’s your secret admirer. you have nine weeks, eight candidates, and one story to live. will you find out who your ‘jay’ is?

a/n :: here’s part two my sexy friends, i’ll be starting to add a little warnings tag from now on because parts will start to get longer and may include some triggering topics!!

wc :: 2.9k (i’m sorry it’s getting longer and longer i know)

warnings: mentions of sex (kinda, not explicit), a singular mention of death, someone’s borderline a bully but not quite (they’re just mean)

taglist: @childofthecycle @the8luvr @staywrites @chocolattees @cloudzume @babytoadz @cherrystay @sandaigdigan-reads @hoes4hoseok @ctrlaltfangirl @kodzu-ken @xazucaradictax @qtieskz @blueprint-han

couldn’t tag: @x-dawna-x

let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

You’re listening to Ryujin go on and on about Han Jisung at practically 6 a.m. (okay, it was around halfway to 8 o’clock, but her words were making you lose track of time), your head resting against the cool metal of the locker, almost wishing you were banging your head against it instead. As much as you knew your friend had a thing for the boy, you never thought you’d be stuck in the middle listening to her over analyzing everything that happened in English the day before. Sure, the precarious boy could be outstanding at pipetting in chemistry, but his social skills weren’t the best. Or at least, they weren’t the best with you.

“Anyway, I’ll shut up now, you look like you just watched The Conjuring and threw up on yourself.” She exclaims rather dryly, and you raise your head, glimpsing at the questioning look on her face. “By the way, that movie was shit. I’ll get to the point, then. I was gonna ask who you’re going to homecoming with.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes at both the comment on one of your favorite horror movies ever (that you’ve watched four times already, each time with the same girl who insists it’s not scary but ends up peeking past her fingers anyway) and homecoming. “Myself,” you reply, returning your head to its original position. “Do I look like the kind of person that would go to homecoming with a date? Really?”

“You went last year,” she points out, and you realize it’s true with a groan. It wasn’t your fault that you couldn’t refuse the captain of the basketball team when he proposed the idea in the middle of the cafeteria, halfway through the sixth period. Honestly, San wasn’t too bad anyway, he just wanted to have some fun with a girl that wasn’t following after him in the general sheep crowd; after the night was over, however, you swore to yourself that you would never come to a dance voluntarily wearing stilettos without one of your go-to friends. “And you liked it. Plus, I was thinking, we should all get dates this year! You know, since it’s our senior year and all. You won’t have another hoco to miss after this one.”

“Get dates? You’re acting like it’s buying takeout.” 

“It basically is,” she shrugs. “You go out, ask for something from someone, and they either give it to you or not. Though I’m not really sure if restaurants are allowed to refuse service.”

 “We could just all go as friends,” you suggest, finally opening up your locker. “As great as having some random dude as my date, no thanks. Like you said, it’s our last year. And hoco’s been fun since freshman year for us anyway, what’s the point of setting us up with dudes when we’re just gonna ditch them?”

“Who said I’m gonna ditch my date?”

“Me, I just did,” you deadpan, shuffling through your books to grab onto your chemistry lab book and stuffing it into your bag. “Remember sophomore year? Yeah, you might not want to remember it, but I do. Lee Daehwi?” She groans at the sound of the familiar name, making you chuckle.

“Okay, fair enough, but I’m not gonna ditch my date this time. Not if I get the one I want.” Ryujin smacks your arm to grab your attention, making you hiss before you see the knowing look on her face as she wiggles her eyebrows. You cross your arms in confusion, trying to scan and rescan her face for hints to what she was getting at, but when your mind finally clicks, you freeze. And then, your jaw drops. “Shut up.”

“I-I didn’t even say anything!”

“I know what you’re gonna say!” She points at you, shaking her finger before bringing it back down. “Look, like you said, it’s senior year. I don’t have a chance, really, not after this one. Either I ask him out for homecoming in the next week or I mope around for the rest of my life regretting not going to a high school dance with the hottest guy in school. Yeah, okay, I guess that kinda does sound a little pathetic.”

You consider it for a moment, imagining how awkward the interaction between Ryujin’s infamous crush and her would be; there would be a whole lot of tripping at the feet and ten times the amount of stuttering. Plus, you’re sure that the boy didn’t have the heart capacity to receive a request without passing out cold. He’s a little fragile after all. “You think Jisung’s the hottest guy in school?”

“Duh, who else do you think? That Hyunjin dude? Yeah, maybe, I saw him a few times in the past few days, but so what? People just get hyped over some guy whenever they come to the school and like four days later he’s no longer a cool transfer student and just ‘the guy next to me in calculus.’” You give her a look, one that you hope resembles something that conveyed the message of ‘you just brought up Hyunjin completely unprovoked’ but she doesn’t budge, her eyes trailed on her nails as she continues. “...and I’ll ask Jisung. Chaeryoung said she’s going with that other guy from your chem, whatever his name was, him. So then, it’s just you.”

You’re reminded suddenly of the letter that you pulled from your locker a few days earlier, the one that followed after the previous introduction and pleaded for you to attend the dance. Even if the letter had never arrived, you were planning on it anyway, but now, you had a purpose. “I don’t really want a date,” you say carefully, your eyes darting across the busy hallway before focusing on the blue of your best friend’s hair. “I mean, I don’t know, maybe, whatever. I don’t feel like stressing out about asking someone, so maybe if someone asks me, I'll be their date. But don’t count on it, alright?”

Ryujin narrows her eyes at you, as if searching for something underneath (something that wasn’t there, you’d like to point out, but she’s still looking intently) before humming. “Alright, sure.” She finishes abruptly, clearly wanting to add onto her sentence but refraining from doing so, making you raise an eyebrow at her shenanigans.

“Spit it out, c’mon, I know you have more to say.”

Your best friend gives you a deadly look but considers it, resting her back against the lockers before turning back to you. “Okay, this is just a thought, got it? Just something running through my head right now that I want to share.”

You cross your arms. “A thought? You? Thinking? Well, that’s no good.”

“Shut up and listen to me first,” she waves you off, shuffling closer until you can see the glimmer of her eyeshadow smudged on the side of her winged eyeliner. “Think about this. You, Y/N, a beautiful girl with absolutely no intention on going to homecoming with a date because of the lack of attraction towards snotty teenage boys, asking the Hwang Hyunjin, a transfer student that’s extremely good-looking and apparently affectionately kind who has no intention on going to homecoming with a date because of the lack of connection with beautiful girls, to homecoming.”

You blink twice, looking up at the ceiling as you quietly process her words. It’s a bit jumbled in your head, but once you think it’s clear enough, you look at her. “Ryujin. May I express my feelings about this ‘thought?’”

She scans you up and down, and then nods.

“It’s absolute bullshit.”

“Hey!”

“I hate my life,” you say to yourself as you swing open the door of your car, stepping out rather impatiently onto the asphalt. Having forgotten to grab your psychology notebook at the end of the day, you found yourself taking an unwanted U-turn back to the school to pick it up; in your defense, you would rather maintain your A in the class even if you had to stop by the gas station on your way back. Like you were told, a class requires commitment.

You march your way into the school once again, wondering why the school officials never thought to add any precautionary measures to the buildings. It makes you wonder if someone had ever snuck onto campus since you were a freshman. From the very deep memories of your sophomore year, you remember a junior at that time sneaking in one of his friends during finals week thinking he’d get away with it. Honestly, Juyeon was something else.

Just as you make your way to your locker, you quietly scroll through your phone distractedly before seeing a text pop up in your infamous group chat.

[3:05 p.m.] chaechaer: guess what guys!! :D

[3:05 p.m.] praying mantis: don’t wanna guess

[3:05 p.m.] hwangji: she’s finally getting dick 

[3:05 p.m.] chaechaer: i’ll fucking bite you yeji.

[3:06 p.m.] hwangji: bite me baby i wanna see you try

[3:06 p.m.] you: spill c’mon

[3:07 p.m.] praying mantis: y/n.

[3:07 p.m.] praying mantis: why are you at school right now

[3:07 p.m.] chaechaer: gasp

[3:07 p.m.] chaechaer: looks like i’m not the only one getting dick

[3:08 p.m.] you: oh fuck off, i came back bc i forgot something

[3:08 p.m.] you: wait did you just say ‘not the only one’

[3:09 p.m.] hwangji: so you ARE getting dick???

[3:09 p.m.] hwangji: spill mf, right now

[3:09 p.m.] you: ryujin, are you checking my snap location rn??? hello?? 

[3:10 p.m.] praying mantis: ofc i am, i’m your guardian angel :)

[3:10 p.m.] you: you’re a stalker

[3:10 p.m.] praying mantis: but whose dick are you getting? that’s the real question 

You roll your eyes as hard as you can, hoping that your best friend would know even from a distance. Just as you continue to tap furiously into the glass of your phone, you’re suddenly hit by your left shoulder, sending you flying down to the ground in an instant. “Shit,” you whisper under your breath, brushing your hair out of your eyes well enough to look up and see that the hard object you just ran into wasn’t a wall. In fact, it was a human.

“Watch where you’re going,” the boy snaps at you, rather loudly in fact, making you flinch as you slowly stand up, gathering your phone. “This wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t on your phone. Who walks in a hallway with their head down like that? Do you want to die?”

It takes you a minute to realize who’s actually standing in front of you, and it’s only when you’ve managed to gulp down his harsh words. Seo Changbin. He looks at you from head to toe, the scowl still evident on his face when your eyes widen. Suddenly, you’re a little more aware of yourself, shifting uncomfortably in his gaze as he doesn’t move. 

“Well?” He crosses his arms across his chest, now approaching you. “I don’t hear an apology.”

You instinctively back away, avoiding the boy’s eyes before you’re looking right back into them. If you weren’t mistaken, there was no one in front of you until there was, and there was no way that you could’ve ran into someone without noticing their presence earlier. Scoffing, you mimic his posture, looking behind him to see if you’re right about your assumption. In fact, you are, seeing the door of the locker room staring right back at you. “Me? Shouldn’t you be watching where you’re going?”

Changbin looks taken aback by your retaliation, somehow making his forehead lines fall into a straight line. “Don’t talk back to me, bitch.”

“Bitch?” You want to laugh, but instead, you press a smile down. “Seriously? Who do you think you are?”

You’re honestly appalled at the way the admired swimmer is acting towards you, but you’re not surprised. You would be lying if you didn’t say you weren’t in the faintest surprised. The entire team could act like a handful of bullies that didn’t have any other free time on their hands, if you looked into it more. Changbin seems to be dissatisfied with your answer, closing in on you as your back presses against the wall. 

“What did you say to me?” 

You’re about to respond with an equally harsh answer but there’s a sudden call of Changbin’s name from the end of the hallway, making the both of you turn your heads. Yet another swimming team member comes jogging your way, sporting a school branded shirt that tells you exactly what he’s part of. The boy stops a few feet away from the two of you, a large smile spreading across his face as he looks from Changbin to you. You scratch your head. Is Bang Chan currently standing in front of you? Or was it just a figment of your imagination?

“Hi! What’s your name?” He asks, coming closer before glancing over at Changbin and stopping. “W-What? Wait, what? What did you do to her?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Changbin defends immediately, making you raise an eyebrow as he holds up his palms. “I didn’t! Nothing happened, Chan. It’s all good. Let’s just go now.”

Chan doesn’t budge when he grabs onto his arm, tugging to pull him away, but he instead focuses his attention on you. His smile persists. “Hi sweetheart, judging from the look on your face, he did do something, right?”

You’re taken aback at his soft voice, a complete contrast from what you just heard from the other boy. Pursing your lips, you try not to let your cheeks flame up. Sweetheart? “It’s nothing—he just ran into me and tried to pin the whole thing on me—it’s all good, really. I’m fine, I didn’t get hurt. So…”

“You didn’t get hurt? But he ran into you?” Chan shoots Changbin a sharp look, one that looks much darker than the gaze he returns to you. “Are you okay? It might’ve been a hard fall. I can take you to the nurse’s office, if you’d like?”

“N-No, it’s fine!” You shake your hands in refusal, an awkward chuckle leaving your lips. Chan only laughs brightly in response, his entire face somehow appearing ten times more charming than before. You notice with another fleeting glimpse that there are dimples that crease into his skin as he smiles, now making your heart do an unidentifiable leap inside your chest. “Um, okay, I actually have to go now! I’ll, uh, yeah! Bye!”

You turn in your heel, trying to walk at a casual but extremely quick pace at the same time, which proves to be difficult. Just as you’re about to turn at the corner, there’s a shout from down the hall.

“Hey!” Peaking your head back, you see Chan waving his hand at you. “What’s your name?!”

“Y/N!”

“Nice to meet you Y/N! I hope to see you around!”

Gulping, you lean back against one of the lockers near yours, placing a hand over your chest as you finally notice the thumping. You take a deep breath, shaking your head a few times to get the entire situation out of your head; it doesn’t work, not with your brain taking you back to that exact moment once again. You just spoke to one, no, scratch that, two extremely talented swimming players with your own two eyes. And perhaps the rapid beating of your heart wasn’t just because one of them was being nice to you. But you wouldn’t admit that now, would you?

dear y/n love,

hi hi! i’ve missed talking to you (yes, i know, there’s no way you can respond to me, but anyway), but this letter will be unfortunately short today. please don’t think too much of it! my class is about to end, haha.

i saw you at one of the swimming meets a few days ago, and oh my god, i really couldn’t take my eyes off of you. i don’t know if anyone has ever told you, y/n, but you are so beautiful. i remember what you were wearing; was it...a black shirt? and jeans, oh yes. your sense of style is so simple yet somehow so perfect. i couldn’t even take my eyes off of you, oh god, i remember all my friends yelling at me to pay attention but all i was doing was staring at you. sounds like a problem, huh? but i enjoy it. shit, this sounds kinda creepy again, doesn’t it? i’m so sorry, love, that’s not what i was going for. i just...really admire you. a lot.

also, the homecoming game is this weekend! i hope you end up going, you can even go with your friend! the blue-haired one, yeah, ryujin, i think. that’s her name, right? oh god, you probably think i’m even weirder now that i just told you that i know your friend. fuck. anyway. 

once again, i hope to see you there! there’s something waiting for you there and i want to be able to surprise you, even if i don’t want to reveal my identity just yet. see you soon, love.

signed, jay

[bettsfic]

february pinned: the real & the ideal

in this month’s edition of my lowkey writing-related newsletter, in addition to my writing-related post roundup and consultation availability, i have short story recommendations for you and an essay on the nature of reality in fiction! 

if you want to receive my lowkey writing-related newsletter directly, you can subscribe here.

in other news, i finished two fics this month:

digging for orchids (hualian, 43k, explicit, fake marriage au)

let ruin end here (hualian, 8k, mature, neighbors au)

full newsletter below the cut, or you can read it here.

oof,

what a month. january is already a rough time. throwing in a pandemic, a coup, and an economic revolution spearheaded by reddit just seems unfair. as for me personally, the spring semester came at me fast and even though it’s only week 2, i am already buried in grading. which i realize is my fault, considering i’m the one who assigned homework.

so after hearing your feedback, i thought i’d make this newsletter even more writing-related by writing more about writing. this month i’ll start off by talking about the nature of reality in fiction in a segment i call “been thinkin a lot about.” more on that below.

new resource

i’ve compiled a folder of PDFs of the short stories i teach most often, which is to say, the stories i like enough to re-read every semester. most of them are literary fiction but a few veer into fantasy, sci fi, and horror.

i know before the MFA, i didn’t really know what a short story was. like i knew, abstractly, the concept of a short story (it is as it sounds), but i could only list a couple i’d ever read as an adult, and i hadn’t read anything that had been published in the last decade. i remember wondering why i was even being asked to care about short stories. who writes short stories? who reads them? apparently, a lot of people. short storyists are a lot like fanwriters in that they make no money and when you talk about your writing in public, people give you that “why would anyone waste their time with that?” look.

so here’s why i was asked to care about short stories: a good short story gives you the entirety of a world in a very condensed space. moreover, it can sometimes leave you as satisfied as a novel in a fraction of the reading time. all the stories i’ve compiled here are ones that stuck with me, that i find myself recommending over and over to writers who want a good example of developing character, or weird narration, or establishing stakes.

if you’re a writer considering publication or an MFA in creative writing, i highly recommend familiarizing yourself with short stories, if for no other reason than to get the feel for them so you can write some of your own. if you can get a few short story publications under your belt, it’ll be easier to open doors when you’re ready to query agents for a novel. also, short stories make a great writing sample for grad programs, workshops, fellowships, residencies, and grant funding.

if you want to check out more short stories but have no idea where to start, the 2020 best american short stories just dropped in november, or if you want a cheaper one, used copies of 2019 and earlier are available on thriftbooks. if you want an overview of the history of the (american) short story, there’s also the best american short stories of the century. fair warning, though, while it’s more diverse than expected, it’s still a bit heavy on dead-white-dude writing.

content warning: the stories in the above-linked folder may depict instances of sexual assault, suicide, and/or abuse. i have not labeled them individually with warnings but i hope to soon, as well as provide a catalog with summaries.

i’m also still working on my essay and novel recs. more to come on that hopefully next month.

writing-related posts

how i quit my banking job to do a creative writing MFA

how i learned to read faster/stop subvocalizing

how to write when you have no time or energy to write

my experience writing fic in small/dead fandoms (aka fics that will probably not get any traffic)

how to describe facial expressions

how to ask for help from your professors

how to navigate tenses during flashbacks

how to separate yourself from your work

how (and why you might want to) write a shitty first draft

why you should consider making the climax the inciting incident

for a complete list of my writing-related posts, check out this masterdoc (which i still need to update it with the past few months’ posts).

stuff i’m into rn

i’m about halfway through the rhetoric of fiction by wayne c. booth which has more or less become my narrative bible. it’s a little dated (1961) but it tackles banal writing adages that are somehow still believed, like “show don’t tell” and whatnot, and breaks them down with amazing insight, clarity, and research. it’s a bit of a dense text so i’m only reading a few pages a day, i think the first time i’ve ever let myself read something so intentionally slowly. now i’m kind of obsessed with doing things slowly. reading slowly, writing slowly, cooking slowly. i even drive slowly, because it’s so rare to go anywhere at all, and i want to enjoy it. also, it’s very snowy where i am. also also, the battery died in my car this month and i really have to make it a point to drive more often.

february availability

i have 2 openings for initial writing consultations in february! if you’re interested, please fill out this google form.

you can learn more about my services on my carrd.

been thinkin a lot about

compulsory reality in fiction. many of us have probably received feedback along the lines of, or thought to ourselves as we read, “that’s not realistic.” many of us believe, consciously or not, that fiction that is more “realistic” is inherently better than fiction that is less “realistic.” for some of us, real means a saturation of details, the clear depiction of the surfaces of things. reality is found in the rendering thereof; if you can “see” it, it’s real. for others of us, it might be the development of complex characters and their growth across a narrative. and for yet others, reality is subtlety, or misery, or the idea of “slice of life,” a term i don’t think means anything, because aren’t all stories a slice of a character’s life? what would a story that’s not a slice of life look like? you’d either have to take away the “slice” part and render a whole life, which is impossible, or you’d have to take away the “life” part and create a dead story, which may be possible, but why would you want to? even if you wrote a story about a rock, the rock would be brought to life by virtue of being written about.

anyway. i think the word “real” is a shitty word for the same reason “slice of life” is a shitty phrase: everything is real and therefore nothing cannot be real. slices of life are all we know because we are alive and cannot truly perceive not being alive; reality is also all we know, and any depictions beyond reality are thus made real because they have been depicted.

so the “goal” for fiction to be “realistic” seems to me to be a false one. all fiction is real because it exists and no fiction can be truly real because it’s only a facsimile of reality. not to get all “this is not a pipe” but writing is just making squiggles, and we as a community of English-knowers agree that certain squiggles correspond to certain sounds, and certain sounds together make words which conjure meanings. and words put together into sentences into paragraphs conjure even more complicated meanings. and when those paragraphs are woven into narrative we create yet more and more complicated meaning.

every time you write anything — a text message, an email, a tweet, a fanfic — you are taking the infinite abstraction of your own cognition, narrowing it into a single concept, and representing that concept with patterns in the form of sounds represented by letters and given meaning with words, so that the infinite abstraction of your own conscience can be fractionally witnessed by the infinite abstraction of someone else’s. and even though we can’t definitively prove for ourselves that any other thing possesses a consciousness, writing shows us the shape of someone else’s mind, and tells us we are not alone.

and yet we still expect writing to be “real.”

have you ever read a story where a character sneezed? like just, a description of a sneeze for the sake of it, with no purpose or function in the plot? if not, is it because our characters aren’t real enough to sneeze, or because the sneeze isn’t relevant to their plight? what would a written sneeze look like, and why would somebody want to write it? moreover, why would somebody want to read it? that leads me to wonder, do we depict reality in the service of narrative, or narrative in the service of reality? in other words, do we write to portray reality (sans sneezing), or do we depict reality to constrain our writing, the way one might request bumpers when bowling so as not to fall in the gutters?

i’ve never read an artful rendition of a character pissing or shitting, either, even when those things are related to a character’s plight and circumstance — stories involving long road trips, living in the woods, being kidnapped. the only exception i can think of is when those things are eroticized (we do not kinkshame here in this lkwrnl), the same way it’s rare to find detailed sex writing that isn’t for the purpose of reader arousal. are there just some things about the nature of being human that are too intimate, too complex, or too boring to write?

once i wrote a murder that takes place in a small fictional midwestern town in the 90s (for the ~aesthetic), and it went uninvestigated by said town’s police force. early readers repeatedly commented along the lines of, “that’s not realistic.” and i thought, no, if anything, the incompetence of police is too realistic for the heightened reality i’m trying to render. have you ever heard of a cop solving a murder that didn’t come with an obvious suspect or immediately found evidence? i haven’t. that doesn’t mean those cases don’t exist, but i definitely think they’re less likely than mass media has us believe, and the average small-town police force has far less motivation (and possibly training) to solve crimes than we think.

i started working on the above-mentioned novel in 2016, and my goal was to depict a reality that hovers above the surface of plausibility. in this novel, which is based on macbeth, a preteen girl, mercy, becomes jealous of the love her best friend elisa shows to her father. mercy decides to get her older and very unstable brother to kill him. naturally the deed goes awry, but it does occur, and the cleanup is far messier than anticipated.

is it plausible for a 12 year old girl to plot and execute the murder of her best friend’s father? no. is that what this book is about? yes. a book about a 12 year old girl who has a perfectly healthy relationship with her best friend and who has no feelings toward her bff’s father one way or another is probably far more “realistic,” but that’s not the book i’d want to read and certainly not the one i want to write. my goal of a heightened reality is what henry james calls the intensity of illusion, the thing that allows a reader, through the witness of one’s distilled cognition into language, to exit physical, knowable reality, and enter a new and unknown reality. and isn’t climbing to that higher place, that intensity of illusion, the purpose of fiction? if it’s not, what is?

the best feedback i got on the aforementioned murder scene was from one of my professors, who, of the perfect calm of all children involved, said, “they just shot a guy. at least one of them would be freaking out.”

he was totally right, but it opened up a lot of questions for me. by what standard did he reach that conclusion? was it something in the chapter itself, was it his personal understanding of the work of narrative, or was it the logical conclusion of the slim plausibility of the scenario? moreover, where did i come up with the idea that all of my preteen characters would commit a murder and proceed to be very chill about it? if an implausible scenario begs the expectation of emotional distress, would it be more compelling to buy into that expectation or deviate from it? is it even my obligation to be compelling when i can never have a cogent grasp of the personal tastes of my audience?

that brings me to what appears to be reality’s opposite: idealism, the state those of us who write fanfic are often trying to achieve. we’re working in an entire genre of ideals, of happily ever afters, of hurt that is always followed by comfort, of glossily rendered sex during which everyone orgasms and no one has to pee afterward. we fix broken texts and continue incomplete ones. sometimes, we want to make existing things better, deeper, more complicated. but all the time, we want to make a text more than what it is.

some see this process, this drive for the ideal, as antithetical to realism, and i think that’s part of the reason fanfiction and other idealistic genres (romance, etc.) get a bad name — the assumption that more real (which for some means more miserable) is better, and therefore its opposite, the ideal, is worse. for them, i have this quote from vladimir nabokov:

For me a work of fiction exists only insofar as it affords me what I shall bluntly call aesthetic bliss, that is a sense of being somehow, somewhere, connected with other states of being where art (curiosity, tenderness, kindness, ecstasy) is the norm.

the ideal, aesthetic bliss, the intensity of illusion. these are all phrases that boil down to the same thing: you the writer get to define the constraints of your own reality. you get to choose if your world even complies with the known laws of physics. and if it doesn’t, you get to choose which ones to break, and why to break them. you get to choose if your stories take place in a real house in a real town on a real day. if you wrote a story that takes place on september 11, 2001, would the events of that story be shaped by the events of that actual day, or are you writing a better world where 9/11 doesn’t happen? consider the consequences of both: why might you want to write reality? why might you want to write ideality? how do these things shape your identity and goals as a writer?

no matter where a work falls on the real-ideal spectrum, you have to accept that prose itself will only ever be a verisimilitude of reality and therefore an interpretation of it, one that might be interpreted differently by a reader. in writing and everything else, you can never have complete control over what others perceive. it’s like giving someone cash as a gift. they might buy themselves something nice with it, or they might spend it on groceries. the point is, eventually we all have to let go of our realities.

[yespleasefandomtrash]

Catradora fluff request: Adora getting an undercut with her ponytail and asking Catra how it looks

this is so self-indulgent. i love it lmao. thank you for suggesting this prompt! (im on mobile rn so im going to add a line break later. thank you for your patience! xx)

~*~

Catra knew something was going on. She’d walked in on Adora and Glimmer whispering to each other multiple times, but as soon as they saw her they’d snap out of it and act like they hadn’t just been not-so-subtly plotting in a corner. Normally she wouldn’t have thought much of it, chalking it up to Sparkles being weird, but Adora was laying her denial on thick. And her girlfriend, bless her heart, was the worst at acting.

And yet, despite how obvious they were being that they were planning… well, something, they had done a surprisingly good job so far at not revealing what, exactly, those plans were. Which irritated Catra to no end. Why was she excluded?!

“Okay, enough secrecy,” Catra snapped, cornering Adora one day in an annoyingly pastel-colored corridor of Bright Moon, placing her hands against the wall on either side of her girlfriend. “What have you and Sparkles and Arrow Boy been talking about for the past week?” And why am I not a part of it, she added silently.

“Uh…” Adora was avoiding eye contact with her in such an obvious fashion it was almost physically painful to witness. Dammit, Catra hated the two inches in height her girlfriend had on her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Catra hissed, her tail flicking in frustration, and she had to resist the urge to drag her nails down the wall. Glimmer probably wouldn’t appreciate her defacing the palace with claw marks. “Adora, you are the worst liar.”

“Psh, what, I am not lying! I would never -”

Catra silenced her with a glare. “Fine. Don’t tell me.” Her hands fell down to her sides, her fists clenching and her nails digging into her palms. “See if I care.”

Adora hesitated, something akin to regret flickering in her eyes, but her expression soon morphed to… affection as her gaze shifted away from Catra’s face. She reached out, her hand brushing the edge of her girlfriend’s jaw before gently fingering the ends of Catra’s hair. “It’s longer,” she said quietly. “Are you letting it grow out?”

Catra silently berated herself for blushing at the sudden physical contact. Stupid Adora. Stupid feelings. But she found her hand instinctively moving to rest on top of Adora’s. Her girlfriend was right - her hair was now less than an inch above her shoulders. “Maybe,” she finally muttered. “I don’t - I don’t know what length I like best.”

Adora chuckled, pulling Catra’s hand down to hold it properly. “Not to be a disgusting sap, but I think you look great with any haircut.”

Catra tried to scowl, but she was pretty sure the effect was ruined by how red her face had to be. “Well, that was disgusting. Never say it again.”

Adora burst out laughing, and she tried to pull her girlfriend closer to her. “But Catra, you’re just so cute!”

Catra hissed. “Shut up! I am not cute!” She yanked her hand away and sprinted down the hall, quite literally running away from her feelings. But she didn’t fail to hear Adora’s laughter increase as she started to chase after her.

“Get back here, you cute cat! Ooh, alliteration.”

“No! Leave me alone!”

It wasn’t until later, when they were both lying on the floor of their bedroom panting in exhaustion with tears of joy and laughter streaming down their faces, that Catra realized she was still yet to figure out what Adora was hiding from her.

She turned her head to glance at her girlfriend, who was wiping tears from her eyes, her signature goofy grin wide on her face. Catra felt warmth blossom in her chest - a warmth she was getting more and more used to feeling.

Well… she supposed she could wait for Adora to tell her whatever it was that was going on. She trusted her. And patience was a virtue, after all - one Perfuma was helping her to get better at practicing.

Apparently the universe decided to reward her for her attempts at self-improvement, because Catra found that she did not have to wait long at all for Adora’s… plot to be revealed.

“I don’t want to go to this stupid dinner!” Catra yowled, glaring angrily at a certain queen of Bright Moon. “I am not a princess. I don’t understand why I need to be there!”

Glimmer sighed, crossing her arms over her chest and pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation. “Perfuma is hosting this celebration, okay? It’s not just a formal dinner, or else I would tell you to stay here if you really didn’t want to go. It’s to denote that it’s been a year since the defeat of Horde Prime. All parties who helped the Rebellion are invited. Including you, whether you like it or not.”

“Well, I don’t like it.”

“I just said that doesn’t matter!”

Catra resisted the urge to smirk. Not teasing Glimmer was almost as hard as not teasing Adora. In other words, she often failed on both accounts.

Glimmer then sighed, uncrossing her arms. “Look, Adora wants you there. You’re right - you don’t have to go. I won’t make you. But Adora is going regardless of whether or not you are, so if you want to put a damper on her evening by staying behind, be my guest.”

“She doesn’t need me to have fun,” Catra snapped.

“I didn’t say she needed you. I said she wants you with her.”

Ugh. Catra hated it when Glimmer was right, which happened more often than she gave the queen credit for. “Fine.” She sent her friend another glare. “But you are not getting anywhere near my hair with that - that thing.”

Glimmer rolled her eyes. “It’s just a brush, but fine.” She shoved it at Catra. “At least do it yourself. Or have Adora do it. Whatever.”

Catra snatched the brush out of her hands, raring to fire back a snarky comment -

“Adora’s ready!” Bow poked his head into the room, his eyes practically glittering in excitement as he beamed at the two. “Not to flex about my abilities, but I think I did a pretty good job.”

Glimmer’s mood changed so fast it was like someone had flipped a switch in her body. “Ooh, yes!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “I’m so excited!” She then teleported out the door.

Catra was frozen in the middle of the room, unsure of whether she should follow or not.

Glimmer seemed to realize this, as she appeared back inside for a split second and simply said, “Stay,” before teleporting back out again.

Catra frowned at the command, irritation causing her to clench her jaw. Why wasn’t she allowed to see Adora? The hell was going on?

Her enhanced hearing picked up on a familiar squeal followed by, “Oh, Adora! It looks so good!”

Catra then heard Adora laugh. “Aw, thanks. But really, credit goes to Bow. I could not have been trusted to do this myself.”

“Adora. Please. You’re making me blush.”

There was a pause. Then she heard Adora quietly add, “Do you think Catra will like it?”

Catra’s eyes widened.

“Well…” There was a teasing lilt to Glimmer’s voice, and Catra could practically envision her familiar smirk. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

Catra instinctively took a step back despite that she was still standing in the middle of the room, her gaze dropping to the ground as she heard the creak of a person opening the door. “Hey, Adora.”

There was the sound of footsteps moving closer, and soon golden sandals entered Catra’s peripheral vision.

“You okay?” Adora asked, and although Catra wasn’t looking at her she could still picture the way her girlfriend’s eyebrows furrowed in concern. “If this is about Perfuma’s party, I know Glimmer was putting a lot of pressure on you to come, but if you really don’t want to you absolutely don’t -”

“No, it’s not that,” Catra grumbled, her grip on the brush tightening. “Of course I’m not letting you go without me, dummy.”

“Okay,” Adora said slowly. Catra could practically see the way her girlfriend’s lips pursed in confusion, though she kept her eyes firmly trained on the ground. “Then why won’t you look at me?”

Catra didn’t know how to answer that question.

A deep-rooted, internalized fear of change, she could practically hear Perfuma say. She ignored the voice.

Adora gasped. “Oh my God, I get it. You saw it already and you hated it and you just didn’t want to tell me!” She groaned. “I’m so sorry, Catra, I wanted to talk you about it before it happened but Glimmer and Bow thought it would be more fun to surprise you and -”

“They - you - what? I haven’t seen -” Catra looked up, confused, and her voice vanished in her throat as the pieces finally fell into place. That was what Adora had been planning. “You cut your hair?”

Adora’s face reddened, and her hand moved up to touch the back of her head where her blonde hair had been shaved down in a neat undercut. “Yeah. I wanted to… try something new, I guess?” Her blush deepened, and a mixture of hope and anxiety flickered in her blue eyes. That combined with her girlfriend’s new haircut was enough to completely short-circuit Catra’s brain. “Do you like it?”

Catra knew that if she tried to speak immediately all that would come out was a strangled “ergm”, which was obviously code for she liked the haircut a lot, probably way too much, but she didn’t want the message to get lost in translation. By the time her neurons kicked back into gear, she was pretty sure her face was as red as Adora’s.

She ended up dropping her head onto her girlfriend’s shoulder, mumbling, “It looks… really good.” Her voice was muffled. Not that she was complaining. Why did complimenting Adora always have to feel so embarrassing?

Because you are making yourself vulnerable by expressing affection openly, Perfuma’s voice said again, which Catra continued to ignore.

“Catra, if it’s that bad you can just tell me,” Adora said, amused, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend’s waist. “In all honesty, that would probably hurt Bow’s feelings more than mine.”

Catra lifted her head slightly, though again she adamantly avoided making eye contact with Adora. “No. I said it looks really good.” This was mortifying. “I like it. A lot.”

“Aw, really?” Catra finally looked up to see that Adora was beaming at her, her blue eyes wide with joy and relief. “That makes me so happy.”

Catra’s tail twitched, and she found herself dropping the hairbrush she still held to grab the front of Adora’s dress and pull her into a rough, hasty kiss.

Adora stared at her, speechless, when Catra let go, but shock soon transformed into a mischievous smirk. “Wow. I should have cut my hair ages ago.”

“Ugh!” Catra growled, her face a shade darker than scarlet as she grabbed Adora’s hand and began dragging her out of the room. “Let’s just go already, before Sparkles can yell at us for being late.”

Adora allowed herself to be pulled along, though she was practically snorting with laughter along the way. “I’m serious. If I had known you’d react like that, I would have taken up on Rogelio’s offer to cut my hair at the Fright Zone!”

“Shut up!”

Catra was suddenly spun around, her girlfriend pushing her against the wall of their bedroom. The mischievous smirk was back on Adora’s lips. “Make me.”

Catra gulped.

Looked like they’d be late after all.

~*~

thank you for reading!

[peachbearies]

omg ion know if ur taking. Requests rn but I was wondering just a cute lil imagine bout zion in which the reader and him are dating and it's they're one yr aniversary or sum idk lol but just zion being a cutie and telling how much he loves her and shiii (because we all know that his ass acts all big and bad but he is a 6'4 teddy bear irl) yaa ik that was supper cringey but shehej yee okay byee (ur an amazing writer btw I've read all ur work and may I saY I stan 💖)

Promise: Z.kuwonu

Requested

›› Synopsis: it’s your first anniversary with Zion, around this trademark period it makes you apprehensive but Zion reminds you how much

›› Genre: Fluff

›› Paring: Female Reader x Zion Kuwonu

›› Warnings: Slightly hinted nsfw, lots of cursing (I mean it Zion so…), a little glimpse of toxic behavior.

›› A/N: what?! This is not cringe at all baby! I admire cheesy romantic headcanons/ imagines like this. My likes and drafts are filled with fluffs or angst to fluff🤧. I’m sorry this is a tad bit delinquent And thank you for reading my work that means a lot I’ve been exploring a lot of vocabulary words to scrutinize my writing, this may be a long one I apologize I got too into it.

The marvels of what a year could do. From going through a hurricane of songster roaring at each other, the strikes of austere comments leading up to the thunderstorm of a anguish. Your ex-fiancé cheated on, with considerable women before you found out. The ring on your finger was nothing but a reflector and leverage for him, he wanted to appear a saint to the kingdom, but a devil in the moonlight. Apologizing and buttering you up like a slice of bread, didn’t make you dawdle.

Your lucidity and rectitude were more caliber than staying, so you moved out of your shared apartment a week later, during the rotation of moving haphazardly you’ve incoherent yourself from the boys' realm, nor have your inner circle heard of you. You dissipated from the earth. And if you had to be adequate, you relished it that way, what was anyone overlooking anyways? but you were silently asking for space, you would give your leg for it.

Zion stirring in disgruntle, pushing profanities in between his gritted teeth. Don’t get mistaken he wasn’t mad you were ignoring him, just by the way your handling things on your own, he knew it had to be really fucked up if you couldn’t come to him. The veins crawling up his proffered hands outstretched for the keys. The boys jumping up in fear he may do something reckless, Brandon putting his hand in front of the boys to halt them. “Listen—even if we stop him, say anything to him or follow him, he will remotely do exactly what you think he’s going to do, you know how much he cares about (y/n), all we can do is have faith in him” Brandon confirms, but deep inside that rickety heart of his fear was kicking his ass too. They all discern Zion, once the peak of anger overflows his eyes only opines vermilion.

Zion parked in the lot, not noticing your car ghosting its rightful place. His mind was set on figuring what was wrong with you. Climbing the flight of stairs, he knocks on your door, his foot tapping the pallid base. When the door swung open it was ex-fiance, their eyes met in pique just burning to throw punches and a few sparks of curse words. “What do you want?” Your ex tempts him.

For your sake, Zion never snapped in front of him the way he should’ve. “Not you that’s for sure” commenting on his current attire, which was shirtless and some sweatpants. “Where’s (y/n)?” He queries, a scruffy ‘tsk’ pass through his lips. “Not here, that bitch moved out after she broke up with me”

Zion looked at his watch the time read 9:35 pm. “Cool, all I need is nine minutes of your time” Zion tranquility explains to him. Swinging and docking him in the throat; the girl that was staying with him bolting into the living room finding the source of the thump. She screams for Zion to get off him, after give or take six punches, Zion walks away not giving him or her the slightest sight. “If I catch you or her around y/n, better make sure you have good health care insurance and dental”

The next day he waited outside your classroom leaning his foot up against the wall; few girls noticed him but that wasn’t on his mind. When your silhouette appeared, he excused himself in a rush to catch you. “Pretty rich seeing a smile from a ghost” your heart dropped; the voice you were scared to dump your problems on.

What lie could you conjure? “Hey Zion” you breathe, turning in his direction. “That’s my fault I’m sorry, dealing with classes and moving I lost track of time” which was half correct, but it wasn’t the biggest factor. Zion tilted his head, signature hand in hoodie pocket. Closing your eyes with a heavy sigh, you knew he didn’t believe you nor did he want to push you. “Zion—“ he groped your wrist pulling you to the parking lot, he leaned on his car's hood without saying a drop of words, he wants for you to stream all your worries.

“Well, that’s half the reason. Okay, I didn't mean to go completely ghost, life just wasn't easy for me lately, I didn't want to add more dead weight to your shoulder. Sorry” zion scoffs pushing himself away from the car with no hands. But they followed the path to your jawline. ”burden on my shoulder or not, they're made for you to cry on. Stop going through things on your own alright?, as long as I'm here you don't have to sink”

Ever since you and zion grew close, a year later and he still gazes at you like a diamond. Even after a year, the astonishment gets the better of you. The insecurities start raging in, fighting in a war of love and hate. Your phone was laid upon the cherry wooden table, the vibrations frightening you, the goosebumps crawling up your arms. The name it read was “Love🤍”

“Hello?” You answer still shaken up; Zion lets out a soft scoff that vibrates through your body “you’re still in bed mamas? you should be awake beautiful” rubbing your eyes slightly, the clock flashed the numbers ‘ 2:30 pm’ your groan only makes him smile bigger.

“Goddamn I love you, look how ravishing you are in the morning” Zion's eyes shimmering in adoration. Those eyes always reflected his emotions, deep down you knew Zion loved you wholeheartedly, but the fear of having something good taken from you. That is what kept you hesitant. “No, I don’t stop lying” you stroke his ego.

“Me? Lie? Babygirl, I can’t and won’t lie to you stop playing” Zion said in a low octave, your stomach stirred in feelings “do me a favor baby” “Which is?” You reply, Zion looks over on his nightstand smiling. “Why are you smiling? Are you being mischievous again?”

“Who me? Nah” Zion shrugs off. The ringing of the doorbell distracted you from his spreading grin “answer that” sighing you walk towards the door, propping your phone on the counter, Zion moans out loud. “Maybe I should’ve slept over last night! Who told you to look that good mamas?” Ignoring his flirty antics you open the door, glimpsing at fresh bouquets of your favorite flower and a self-care basket. “Baby!!!” You screech, Zion simpers at the brightest smile on your face. The sun doesn’t shine as bright as you did at the moment.

“Why?, why are you so loving to me” you start to happy cry “Nah baby none of that, I love you too damn much for you to self-deprecate” Zion shuts your negativity down. Flipping the card over you read the message. ‘You thought I’d forget the day you changed my life? I’ve always loved you and I’ll continue to love you, but it’s not your love that I adore the most, it’s those gorgeous eyes that look back at me. Like I’m some type of angel when we all know that’s you, it’s the way you’re compassionate about others, I love your free spirit baby you’re a dove to me, even though I get under your nerves, I wouldn’t want anyone else to deal with me or my problems happy one year’

You look up at Zion, his eyes were already glossing by admiring your figure. Oh, how you wish jumping through a screen wasn’t just a cartoon thing. “Fuck” you whisper covering your face “angel, you are beautiful” Zion reminds you “stop!!! I’m in my feelings!!” You Jokingly spat at him. “What you wanna do for our anniversary it’s up to you” Zion smiles.

“Can we go to a petting zoo then get tacos?” Your eyes sparkling as your lips turn into a pout, Zion looking up towards the ceiling as his Adam’s apple points at the camera. “Yes, how could I say no” twenty minutes later Zion was at your house, complimenting you the whole car ride. Protectively and passionately rubbing circles on your knees being careful not to raise his hand any further.

“Look! Rabbits” Zion follows your finger pulling you in that direction, you sit on the bench holding the rabbit in your lap feeding it the food. Zion takes pictures of you getting the best angles, falling in love with your beauty, even more, the way the golden light bounced off your skin. It made him think twice if you were real or just a lucid dream. Feeding the monkeys were the best part, they hugged you and Zion; even gave you two kisses. The giraffes were the most exciting to you, joking to your boyfriend “wow look something taller than you”. Walking into a blue-lit aquarium a class of fish surrounded the both of you. Your finger softly touching the fish that was pressed against the glass, it followed your every move. Never realizing Zion detached his hand from yours, it hasn’t hit you until a ring was slid on your finger.

“Not an engagement ring, but soon don’t worry this is a promise ring, and I promise that you’ll feel nothing but comfort and love with me” his fingers gripped into your waist “with a side of pleasure too” you smack his shoulder while smiling ear for ear. “You promise?” “Of course I do, I wholeheartedly promise, I will never hurt or disrespect you baby, you mean too much to me”

Once you were back to the apartment your body couldn’t even make it to the bed, but Zion helped you to the bathroom. To wash off the dirt and sweat, even helped you with your skin routine. His fingers padding over every inch of your back, your soft snores in the crook of his neck. “I’m so glad to be the girlfriend of your dreams” you whisper “oh lord she’s finally figured it out!!” Zion pushes your buttons “should I send you back home?” You test him, “you wouldn’t dare, you need me tonight” Zion teases his swollen lips attacking your neck upwards your jawline, a low gruffly growl trickles down your spine.

“So is this the side of pleasure?” You press your teeth into your lower lip “if that’s what you want”

“Well, you did make a promise” wasting no time Zion straddles you, your legs wrapped around his waist, giggling at how he fumbled to remove his shirt.

“You damn right I made a promise, and I’ll show you how serious this promise is” Zion kisses up your stomach “I love you”

Your hands cupping his jaw the breathing becoming erratic “I love you too”