#Private Sports Lessons for Kids

[bee-in-motion]

Private Sports Lessons for Kids in NYC: Enhance Your Child’s Skills with Bee In Motion

In a bustling city like New York, opportunities for children to develop physically and mentally are essential for their overall growth. Private sports lessons for kids in NYC offer a personalized way for children to refine their athletic skills, boost their confidence, and learn the values of discipline and teamwork. Bee In Motion stands out as a premier provider of these services, offering top-notch coaching tailored to your child's individual needs and goals.

Bee In Motion: The Best Choice for Private Sports Lessons in NYC

Bee In Motion is dedicated to offering high-quality private sports lessons for kids in NYC. They understand that each child is different and may need a different approach to learning sports. Whether your child is interested in soccer, basketball, swimming, tennis, or any other sport, Bee In Motion provides expert instruction that will help them build strength, flexibility, and coordination while fostering a love for physical activity. Their trainers are not only skilled athletes but also experienced educators who are passionate about working with children.

Individualized Training Plans to Suit Every Child's Needs

One of the standout features of private sports lessons for kids in NYC with Bee In Motion is the creation of individualized training plans. Unlike group sessions, where all participants may be given the same exercises or drills, private lessons allow for a bespoke plan that targets your child's specific strengths and areas for improvement. The trainers at Bee In Motion work closely with both parents and children to identify goals, whether it's improving technique, developing endurance, or preparing for competitive sports.

The personalized approach helps kids not only improve their athletic abilities but also gain important life skills such as perseverance, time management, and responsibility. Bee In Motion’s private sports lessons are designed to keep children engaged and motivated as they grow both as athletes and individuals.

Building Confidence and Character Through Sports

Another significant advantage of private sports lessons for kids in NYC is the opportunity to build self-confidence and character. Sports often require children to overcome challenges and push past their limits. With private lessons, kids receive the support and encouragement they need to feel confident in their abilities. As they see progress in their skills, their self-esteem naturally grows. Additionally, through the discipline required in sports, kids learn important values such as hard work, patience, and teamwork, which will serve them well both on and off the field.

Conclusion

If you’re looking for a way to help your child grow athletically and personally, private sports lessons for kids in NYC with Bee In Motion are the perfect solution. By providing individualized coaching in a supportive and engaging environment, Bee In Motion helps kids not only improve their sports skills but also build confidence, discipline, and a lifelong love for physical activity. Whether your child is just starting out or looking to take their game to the next level, Bee In Motion offers the expertise and personalized attention they need to succeed.

[simplyghosting]

Ohhhhh my relatives are being stupid again

[academyalmightysports]

The Best Adult Swimming Lessons in Singapore | Almighty Sports Academy

Learning how to swim is thrilling and exhausting at the same time. Learning to swim is a great way to tackle fear of water, however many can struggle to grasp certain concepts. Whether you’re a complete beginner or looking to improve your skills, enrolling in an adult swim class is a great way to do a full-body workout without missing out on fun! In this blog, we’ll explore the best adult swimming lessons in Singapore and provide you with five essential tips to prepare for your first class.

Visit Us: https://www.almightysportsacademy.com/

[keraawrites]

Private lesson

Summary: It was a snobby high-class country club, and the only reason you ever stepped foot on its grounds was because of the stupidly hot upcoming young pro golfer. ۶ৎ Armin x black fem reader ۶ৎ

Context: Outdoor sex, unprotected sex, face down ass up, tongue peircing, oral (male and female), dirty talk, name calling (ma, slut, whore), hair pulling, dom Armin, picture taking

Word count — 5.2k

The thing about going to a top-tier high school was that everyone acted like they were two business calls away from running the country. Every hallway conversation was a flex-off—who landed the better internship, who had the higher GPA, who was casually being groomed to take over their family’s tech empire. Everyone was somebody, or pretending hard enough to fake it.

You didn’t have to pretend.

You weren’t just rich. You were connected. Your parents made sure of that. Old money, black excellence, and carefully cultivated prestige followed your name like a designer label.

But unlike the rest of the pill-popping trust fund babies who sniffed coke in bathroom stalls and pretended to give a damn in Model UN, you actually had the résumé to back it up.

President of three student orgs. Captain of the swim team. Debate medals. Volunteer hours. Invited to think tanks at sixteen.

And God, you were so bored.

Everything felt easy now. Predictable. College had sharpened you more than high school ever did, but even here, surrounded by social climbers and legacy students, you’d already hit the ceiling. You were graduating in a month. Off to Rome in June for a summer internship that your professors called “life-changing” and your father’s friends called “brilliant positioning.”

And still—bored.

So fucking bored you could scream.

Your eyes drifted behind your sunglasses, scanning the manicured lawns of the country club like you were searching for something interesting. Nothing but rich people playing dress-up in white and pastels, swinging overpriced clubs, and gossiping behind mimosa glasses.

“If you keep spacing out like that,” a dry voice said beside you, “I may start to think you don’t like me.”

You blinked once, slowly, turning your head toward the man sitting across from you on the club’s patio. “Uncle Levi,” you said, tone flat, “you know I like spending time with you. But I hate this country club.”

Levi Ackerman smirked behind his espresso. You weren’t blood, but he claimed you like you were. Old friend of your father’s from before the money came in—quiet, blunt, always dressed like he was mourning something. He was also the only person who never sugarcoated things with you. Which made him tolerable.

“Yeah, well,” he said, nodding toward the sprawling green in the distance, “at least the view’s decent.”

And he was right.

You took a slow sip of your iced coffee, letting the condensation roll lazily down the cup as your eyes drifted across the range. They landed—again, like muscle memory—on him.

The tall, lean figure in a black polo. Standing near the far practice green, focused and alone. His hands adjusted on the grip of his club with the kind of precision that felt… sensual. Like he thought with his fingertips. Like he trusted his body to remember what his brain wouldn’t say out loud.

Sunlight caught the sweep of his blond hair, brushing it back from his forehead as he shifted his stance. His shirt clung to the sharp lines of his back, and when he swung—fluid, effortless, perfect—you felt your stomach twist.

That was the thing about Armin Arlert.

You’d learned his name a few weeks ago—just in passing, during one of your father’s rare attempts at small talk over dinner.

“He’s the future of the sport,” he’d said. “Quiet kid. Smart. Good form. I invested in his early sponsorship.”

Your ears perked up. You didn’t usually care about what your father invested in. Startups. Political campaigns. A few underground fashion brands trying to break into Tokyo. But this? A person?

“Golf?” you’d repeated flatly, twirling your fork.

Your father nodded. “Young pro, he goes to your college—same year. Sponsored by one of the top athletic firms. He’s got the numbers. All he needs is a clean image and a few more wins. We’re grooming him to be the next golden boy.”

And then he pulled up a clip.

It was less than 90 seconds long—just Armin on a course, mid-tournament. His jaw tight. Eyes focused. Wind in his hair. He moved like the world around him didn’t exist. Like the only thing that mattered was the ball, the swing, the arc.

You'd never been so interested in one of your dad’s boring business tangents.

From that point on, Armin was everywhere. Or maybe it just felt like that. In the student newspaper. On club flyers. In the background of your econ class once or twice. Always quiet. Always composed. But so completely and utterly untouchable.

And that made him irresistible.

Because you didn’t do distant. You didn’t chase. But there was something about him—maybe the way he ignored all the noise, how his entire being was chiseled down into one, singular obsession. Golf.

You could relate.

You’d been obsessed with winning your whole life. And now, bored with everything else, your mind had settled on a new fixation.

Armin Arlert.

Not just because he was beautiful.

Not just because he was brilliant.

But because he didn’t seem to notice you at all.

And you hated that.

“Alright, we’re cutting it close. Yearbooks need to be wrapped by the end of the week. Who’s still left for portraits and legacy blurbs?”

A voice to your left piped up, half-buried in a checklist. “Most of the secret society kids want to do a joint statement. They're scheduling individual shots for later this week.”

You sighed. Of course they were.

“But,” she continued, hesitant, “um—Armin Arlert hasn’t signed up for his photo. And the deadline for that… is today.”

Your pen paused mid-air.

Armin.

The name barely had time to hang in the air before your brain locked onto it like a heat-seeking missile. You blinked once, lashes low, and tilted your head just slightly, trying not to look as interested as you suddenly felt.

“Arlert?” you repeated.

The girl nodded, flipping through the clipboard again. “Yeah. I think he’s been swamped with training or whatever. But if he doesn’t get it in by today, it won’t make print.”

You hummed under your breath, tapping the end of your pen against the table. The meeting buzzed on, voices layered in logistics and complaints—but you’d already tuned out.

You dismissed the meeting soon after, your mind already on the blonde as you unconsciously hunted for him.

You hadn’t even realised you were scanning the quad until you stepped out into the sun, hand shielding your eyes, searching.

It wasn’t stalking, not really. You just happened to remember overhearing—somewhere between class rep gossip and cafeteria noise, that Armin was training on campus today. Something about the varsity golf team getting access to the athletic green while the country club prepped for a corporate retreat.

You saw him perched under a tree, clad in jeans and a polo shirt, jumper tied around his shoulders as he chatted away with Eren Yeager.

"Ahhh, if it isn’t Miss Student Body President herself,” Eren drawled, smirking as he leaned back on his elbows. “To what do we owe the honour? Did the sun come out just for you, or are we just lucky today?”

You ignored the brunette, eyes focused on the blonde who looked up at you as you enetred his view.

“Armin,” you started, voice smooth but edged with command. “You need to take your yearbook photo. Today.”

He blinked. “What?”

You took another step closer, ignoring Eren’s smug little smirk from the side. “You know, the photo you’ve conveniently been avoiding. Legacy, remember? Don’t try to tell me you don’t have time, because clearly you have time to sit around entertaining miscreants.”

“Rude,” Eren mumbled with a laugh, not even offended.

Armin sat up straighter, clearly caught off guard. “I didn’t realise the deadline was today.”

“Well, now you do,” you replied, arms crossing lightly under your chest. “And since I personally came all the way out here to remind you, the least you can do is follow me back and make it quick.”

There was a long pause, you watched Armin shift slightly, something thoughtful in his expression. He wasn’t flustered—he didn’t seem like someone who ever got flustered—but there was a flicker of curiosity behind his calm demeanour. Like he was trying to figure you out.

"I can't today. I have practice."

You stared.

Eren let out a snort. “Damn, I think he just rejected the queen herself. History in the making.”

You ignored him again.

“Practice,” you repeated, one brow arching. “You’re on a bench under a tree, Arlert.”

His lips twitched, just slightly. “I was about to start.”

“Mhm.”

"And, I don't really care about leaving a legacy behind, and if you really need a picture, can't you just get a quick candid when I'm practising?"

Your brow twitched at the second basic 'no'. You didn't do good with the word no.

"Maybe if you get up and come take your picture I'll get daddy to talk to your sponsor about getting you those new clubs that their working on."

You tried really hard to hide your smirk as Armin's eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Damn, bribery? Who’s the miscreant now?”

"Shut up, Eren,” Armin muttered, gaze still on you. “Can you actually get that to happen?”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Do you think I make empty promises?”

He didn’t answer, but the look he gave you said enough.

You knew the answer was yes.

After a beat, Armin stood up, brushing off his jeans and slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Fine. I’ll take the picture.”

Your grin widened.

“Great. Studios in the comms building, third floor. I’ll walk you.”

You glanced at Armin from the corner of your eye as the two of you fell into step together. He didn’t speak at first, just adjusted the strap on his bag and kept pace.

"Eren's right. Didn't peg you down for bribery. Me not taking my picture doesn't actually harm you in some way."

You scoffed slightly, heels clicking against the stone steps, smiling softly as students greeted you in pacing.

"I am the head of the committee, so it bothers me when things don't go my way Arlet." Armin felt the corner of his lips pull into a smile, you were just as he thought.

"You know that's kind of like me and golf, its precise so I have to do things exact or it'll just fuck up."

You blinked, caught off guard by the swear that left his lips, you bit your lip softly, feeling the heat go straight to your core.

You finally reached the studio, knocking softly before telling the photographer that someone was here for their picture.

You turned towards the blonde, who was already staring at you.

"What?"

"You really gonna get me them clubs?"

You hummed softly, stepping away from the door as you closed in on him.

"How about I bring them by the club in a couple days and you show me how to use them?"

Arnin chuckled softly, he knew what game you were playing but it wouldn't hurt to play along.

“You want a golf lesson?”

You nodded once. “I’m at the top of the school. I’ve done everything. Won everything. And now I’m bored out of my mind. Graduation can’t come soon enough. So yeah, Armin… I want a golf lesson. And I want you to teach me.”

He held your gaze, a spark flickering behind those thoughtful blue eyes. Then, he stepped toward the studio setup, dropping his bag and rolling his shoulders.

“I’ll send you my schedule.”

Your smile widened. “Looking forward to it, golden boy.”

The breeze teased the hem of your tennis skirt as you made your way across the sprawling green of the country club, sunlight pooling over the trimmed lawn like honey.

It had been a few days since you told Armin you’d bring the clubs.

You remembered talking to your father that night, curled up on the velvet couch in his home office, swirling a mocktail while he poured himself something older than you.

“Get those new golf clubs for Arlert,” you’d said casually, eyes flicking toward your phone screen, where a paused video of Armin’s last tournament.

Your dad had barely looked up from his glass. “Already ahead of you,” he said, voice brimming with the kind of investor excitement that usually puts you to sleep. “Kid’s a prodigy. Ball speed’s insane for his weight class. Balance like a dancer. He's gonna win me a lot of money.”

You bit your lip as your eyes settled on the blonde.

He was stretching, his polo shirt had ridden up your gaze locked in on the happy trail that vanished beneath his belt.

You inhaled, reset your composure, and started walking toward him.

"Hope you're ready for a gift," you called out, causing the blonde to halt his movements.

Armin glanced over his shoulder mid-stretch, brows lifting slightly as he straightened. "Didn’t think you’d actually show."

“You wound me,” you drawled as you stepped closer, arms crossing beneath your chest. His eyes dropped—not subtly. They scanned your whole frame before resting mid thigh, where your pleated tennis skirt teased the bare skin of your thighs.

He didn’t bother hiding the stare.

You didn’t bother hiding the smile.

Then the low hum of an engine broke your moment, a golf cart pulling up beside you. The staffer hopped off and carefully set the bag of clubs at your feet. You murmured a thank-you, dismissing him with a polite nod before nudging the bag toward Armin.

His gaze flicked from the clubs back to your face, and then back again. You saw it—the instant the excitement lit his features like a damn sunrise.

He dropped to a crouch, unzipping the bag with reverence, like it held holy relics. His fingers ghosted over the matte graphite shafts, his mouth parting just slightly.

“Fuck,” he muttered, lifting one of the irons. “These are actually the real deal.”

You giggled as he turned the club over in his hands, admiring every inch of it like it was art.

“TaylorMade’s unreleased line,” you said, letting the pride bleed into your tone. “Balanced for your tempo. Personalized grip. Straight from the R&D lab to your hands. Told you—I don’t make empty promises.”

Armin stood and took a practice swing, slow and smooth. His stance was perfect—shoulders loose, core tight, legs braced with just enough tension. His follow-through was fluid, almost hypnotic.

God, he looked good like that.

He exhaled a low breath and shook his head. “Fuck, fuck—these are fucking legendary.” He brought the club back up, eyes wide with awe. “I’ve never felt anything this smooth. They feel like they were built for me.”

You leaned a little closer, chin tilted up. “They were.”

He looked at you—really looked. Something unreadable flashed behind his expression, something that simmered just beneath the surface of admiration and gratitude.

“You’re kind of insane,” he said, tone light but edged with disbelief. “In the best way.”

You laughed. “I get that a lot.”

He grabbed a ball from his own bag, tossing it lightly into the air before catching it. “Alright, if you’re really serious about this golf lesson, you’re getting the full treatment.”

“Oh?” you asked, arching a brow.

“Grip, stance, swing, posture. No shortcuts. No half-assing.”

You smirked. “I’m not usually the one doing the assing, but okay.”

That made him laugh—really laugh. He rubbed a hand over his face, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe he was putting up with you.

"Okay, some people are visual learners so why don't you watch me with my stance and hit a couple balls and then you'll give it a go."

You nodded, sinking down onto the green, your skirt fanned around your thighs, as you stretched your legs out in front of you. You pushed your sunglasses up into your hair, eyes tracking every move he made.

Armin lined up, posture precise. He rolled his shoulders once, adjusted his grip on the club, then exhaled slowly through his nose. You watched the transformation happen in real time—the soft-spoken golden boy gone laser-focused and lethal.

His swing was a thing of beauty—clean, practiced, elegant. The club sliced through the air with a whisper and connected with the ball with a satisfying crack, sending it sailing in a perfect arc across the range.

You let out a low whistle. “Okay, that was actually kinda sexy.”

He looked over his shoulder at you, shaking his head, but you caught the faint pink blooming in his ears.

“Again,” you said, grinning. “Slow this time.”

Armin rolled his eyes but did as asked, resetting. “You better be paying attention.”

“Oh, I am,” you murmured, voice dropping a note lower.

He hit another. And another. Each swing was different, slightly adjusted for distance and control, but all of them were sharp, intentional, perfect.

After the fourth, he stepped back and turned to you. “Your turn.”

You stood, brushing grass off the back of your thighs with a dramatic sigh. “Fine. But if I break a nail, I’m suing.”

He chuckled, handing you one of the new clubs. “Not a chance. These were built for royalty, remember?”

You took the club, turning it over in your hands like you weren’t just admiring the curve of his back ten seconds ago. You stepped up to the ball, adjusting your grip and spacing your feet like you vaguely remembered him doing.

He walked up behind you, close—but not touching. “You’re too stiff. Relax.”

You arched your back slightly. “Is this better?”

“Nope. Worse,” he said, clearly trying not to smile. “Here—let me help.”

His hands slid onto your hips, gently nudging you into place. His fingers were warm, steady, and stayed a second longer than necessary.

“There,” he said quietly, voice close to your ear. “Now try.”

You swung.

And absolutely whiffed it.

“Shit—”

Armin laughed again, stepping back as you straightened. “We’re gonna be here a while, come on--lets go get the balls."

Armin put his sunglasses on as he helped you into the passenger side, his hand resting on your mid-back. He drove off once he settled in the drivers seat, his hand brushing against your thigh. You crossed your legs, skirt riding up a little, which caused the blonde's hands to pause before they settled on your knee.

The cart pulled to a stop, some balls littered in the distance, the area seemed more private.

Armin helped you out of the cart but before he could say anything, you already walked off and began picking up some of the balls.

You could feel his burning gaze on you as you bent over to pick up the golf balls. You could feel the slight breeze on your ass, you smirked as you heard his murmered curses.

"Okay I'm ready."

You turned to face the blonde who was still standing by the the cart his gaze soley on you.

"Armin."

The boy blinked, gaze adjusting, "Huh, yeah okay, erm okay yeah."

You giggled as Armin grabbed the clubs, he walked over to you, handing over the club before you took your stance.

His breath hit the back of your neck, warm and shallow. You held still as his hand skimmed your wrist, then ghosted along your forearm to adjust your grip. His other hand dropped lightly to your waist.

“Relax your shoulders,” he said, voice softer now. Lower. “And keep your weight even between both feet. You’re leaning into your right side too much.”

You pushed yourself back into his chest, your ass grazing the outline of his dick. You could feel the intake of his breath before his gripped tigheted agaisnt your waist.

"Okay," His breath fanned against your ear, "now take a big swing."

You hummed softly, feeling his grip on your waist tightened, his hand over yours as he gudied you to take your swing.

Your head tilted to the side as his nose brushed the edge of your ear, his hands left your arms before they tightened on your waist.

"Do you want me to fuck you on this field?"

A quiet moan slipped from your lips before you could catch it. The shift between his personality was intense.

His teeth grazed your earlobe, tugging just hard enough to send a jolt down your spine. His hands drifted lower, cupping your ass possessively over the thin fabric of your skirt.

"You think you can?"

The blonde chuckled before his lips met yours. You moaned at the feel and taste of his lips, your hands pressed firmly against his chest, his fingers trailed against your bare thigh before cupping your ass under your skirt.

You gasped as his tongue slipped past your lips, slick and demanding, a cool tap of metal catching against yours. Your fingers curled into his chest, pressing close as realisation settled in.

“Wait—” your voice hitched, “you have your tongue pierced?”

“Mmhmm,” he smirked against your jaw, his lips moving down the column of your throat, hot and unrelenting. “Didn’t think I’d use it on you this soon... but I’m not about to waste the opportunity.”

You moaned again, head tilting back as he scooped you up effortlessly, your thighs locking around his waist on instinct. He kissed you through your surprised laugh, walking both of you to the cart.

The cold leather of the golf cart seat kissed your ass as he sat you down, his lips trailed along the barness of your skin before he fully sunk down to his knees.

You barely had time to blink before his hands were parting your thighs, spreading them open wide beneath your skirt.

“You know,” he murmured, lifting the hem slowly, reverently, “I thought about this. Not like—exactly this, but something close.”

You moaned, head tilting back as you tried to hide your smile, "Yeah? Didn't think you were into me."

Armin kissed the inside of your thighs, fingers barley grazing the outline of your clit before your tugged your panties to your ankles.

"Hmm, whatever gave you that idea?"

"Maybe because—fuck Armin." You gasped, one hand flying to the back of his head when you felt his tongue swipe through your folds—piercing grazing your clit in a way that had your hips jerking up off the seat.

Armin groaned at the taste of you, his tongue welcomed your jucies as he burried his face futher into your cunt.

His hands kept your legs spread as his tongue fucked into you, switching between broad licks and tight flicks over your clit, like he was trying to figure out what made you squirm the most—and then doing exactly that on purpose.

“Taste so fucking good,” he groaned, voice muffled between your thighs. “You’re gonna make me lose my mind. You know that? You think I didn’t know how often you watched me on the field?”

You whimpered, already close, hips rocking against his mouth. He sucked your clit into his mouth, tongue swirling, then popped it with a lewd sound that made your breath hitch.

Your whole body shivered when Armin rolled his piercing over your swollen bud, your fingers tightened in his hair as his two of his fingers bullied their way into your cunt.

Your instantly clenched around them, the squelch loud and obscene as he started to fuck them into you hard and fast.

“Fuck, look at you,” he muttered, voice dark and raw with lust. “Drippin’ like a damn faucet. This pussy’s so wet for me it’s embarrassing. But you like it, don’t you? Like being used out here where anyone could see.”

A scream ripped from your throat, the blonde pulling away to look at your face, his smile was feral as his fingers roughly curled against your G-spot.

“You gonna come on my tongue and fingers like a good girl?” he taunted, pressing messy, wet kisses along your inner thigh. “Wanna make a mess for me? Let everyone know who this pussy belongs to?”

You nodded, breathless, tears threatening to sting your eyes.

“Say it.”

“Y-yes! Armin—please, wanna come for you, wanna come so bad—fuck, don’t stop—!”

He growled and sealed his mouth over your cunt again, the silver ball rolling over your clit one last time as he licked you through the sharp rise of your orgasm until you were writhing, hips jerking, thighs threatening to close around his head. But he held you there, firm and inescapable, until your body trembled against the leather.

Armin finally pulled away from you, his chin wet with your slick, the blonde smiled before he leaned up to press a kiss to your lips, his tongue shoving into your mouth so you could taste yourself on him. When he pulled back, his soaked fingers slipped from between your thighs and lifted to your mouth.

“Open.”

You did as he said—eyes locked on his, you moaned around his fingers as he slid them past your lips. You sucked them in slow, tongue swirling, moaning at your own taste while his gaze darkened further.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered, eyes fixed on the way your lips wrapped around his knuckles.

Armin swore he could have busted a nut right then and there.

You let Armin's fingers go with a soft pop, eyes bold and looking up at him all innocent. It drove him insanse.

The blonde quickly pulled you up, your breathing laboured as he lowered you to the ground, your knees meeting the grass as you became eye level with his crotch.

You watched Armin's fingers as they worked on the belt of his slacks, you bit your lip softly after he freed his cock from it's confinement.

Fuck, fuck there was no way that was gonna fit.

The blonde looked down at you, his lips pulling into a smirk as your eyes widened.

“You can take it,” he said low, gripping the base and dragging the tip slowly across your lips, smearing precum against them. “Open that pretty mouth for me.”

You obeyed instantly, lips parting as he eased himself past them. The first few inches filled your mouth with weight and heat, and he groaned deep—his head falling back for a second, throat tight.

“Fuuuck, there you go,” he rasped, one hand braced on your jaw while the other threaded deep in your braids. “Shit, baby, look at you—so fuckin’ eager now, huh?”

You moaned around him, the sound vibrating through your throat as your tongue curled along the underside of his cock. You could feel him twitch when your spit started to gather, dripping from the corners of your mouth.

He started to guide your movements, slow and steady as he fucked your mouth. Every time you gagged just a little, he moaned like you were a drug.

“Yeah… take it, fuck, just like that,” he growled. “Didn’t think the sweet little President had a dirty fucking mouth like this.”

You whimpered around him, fingers digging into the back of his thighs as he gently rocked his hips forward again.

When he finally pulled back, strings of spit still connected your lips to his cock. His hand gripped your chin, tilting your face up to meet his stare—eyes blown wide, mouth messy, pupils wild with lust.

“Get in the cart,” he said, voice sharp.

You didn’t even hesitate.

As you turned and climbed in, he followed close behind, hands already on your hips. You barely got one knee on the seat before he was crowding you from behind, pushing your skirt up, groaning at the sight of pussy.

“Fucking dripping, and I haven’t even put it in yet. Such a desperate little thing, huh?”

You whimpered, arching your back and wiggling your hips for him, already trembling with need.

Armin ran his tip through your folds causing you to whine, "Your so presistent you know."

He growled, pulling away slightly to stroke himself. “Fucking chasing me for one stupid yearbook photo but you're really just a needy fuckin’ slut, aren’t you? Just wanted me to fuck you.”

You gasped, embarrassment blooming right alongside your arousal. But god, it turned you on more than you'd admit. “Please… Armin, I need it,” you breathed.

“Oh, you need it now?” he sneered, grabbing a handful of your braids, yanking your head back.

You whined, eyes fluttering shut, your pussy clenching around nothing. You didn't even have time to beg him some more before he slammed into you in one deep, brutal thrust, punching the air out of your lungs.

You screamed, back arching, nails digging into the leather of the golf cart seat.

“Fuck yes,” he hissed, setting a punishing rhythm right out the gate. “This pussy’s so goddamn tight—gripping me like you were made for it.”

Your mind was a haze, you would have never had guess that the golden boy, the one who just wants to golf and graduate, had such a sinful cock and a filthy mouth.

He grunted as his hips smacked against your ass, the sound filthy and loud in the quiet of the green. His balls slapped against your clit with every thrust, making you moan uncontrollably.

“Bet you fingered yourself to me, huh?” he panted. “Touchin’ that nasty little cunt thinkin’ about me fucking you stupid. That’s why you got me those clubs, right? Wanted me to thank you just like this.”

You moaned louder, drool slipping past your lips.

He slapped your ass hard, then again, until it stung. “Look at this messy fucking cunt,” he growled, spreading your cheeks wider. “All sloppy and stretched around my dick. That’s what you wanted, huh? Wanted me to treat you like the dumb little whore you are?”

“Y-yes, god, Armin—don’t stop,” you cried, body rocking with every heavy thrust.

He reached around and rubbed your clit mercilessly, fast and tight, just to make you scream again. “Come on then. Be a good slut. Come on my cock.”

You shattered.

You screamed his name, legs shaking violently as your orgasm ripped through you, cunt clenching around his cock like a vice. You collapsed forward, arms limp, drool slipping from your lips as you sobbed through the high.

But Armin didn’t stop.

“Uh-uh. Why you running for?” he chuckled, yanking you back by your waist and slamming into you again, chasing his own release with brutal thrusts that had your body going limp in his hold.

“Fuck—gonna fill you up,” he growled, voice rough and wrecked. “Gonna come so deep, it leaks down your thighs and stains that pretty little skirt. You’ll smell like me for days.”

You weren't sure if you were making sense, you were a babbling sensitive mess as Armin continued to fuck you. Your body molding into the leather seats of the cart as your ass continued to clap against his pelvis.

It didn't take him long before he bottomed out, groaning loudly as he emptied himself inside you.

You moaned softly at the warmth, his cock twitching inside your overstimulated cunt.

He didn’t move for a moment, just gripped your hips and breathed hard, staring down at the mess he’d made of you.

Then he pulled out slow, watching his cum spill out of you and drip to the grass.

Armin chuckled softly, you barely registered the shuffle behind you until Armin helped roll you onto your back on the cart seat. You blinked up at him through hazy, fucked-out tears.

“Wh… what’re you…?” you murmured, voice raw.

"You know how you chased me down for one stupid picture. Isn't it only fair I get one in return?"

Confusion filled your eyes before you saw him bring a polaroid camera up to his face. Your eyes widened, your legs were still spread, his cum dripping out of you, face dazed and perfect.

"Say cheese baby."

𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘮𝘦, 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘬𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘢𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 ©

[kwisatzworld]

Mamma Stefania has just had Vale’s little brother, and the first question is about what she had wished for her first son? “She would have liked to see me as a lawyer, or maybe as a flight attendant for some airline. She doesn’t like that I race on track, she’s scared something could happen to me. But since she couldn’t do anything to stop me, when her work allowed it, she used to come with me to the races. Now, with little Luca to breastfeed, she can’t anymore.”

Not a lawyer, nor a flight attendant. But nothing says a rider can’t also get a diploma. “Yeah, if you find a little bit of cooperation and understanding from the teachers. They gave me such a hard time that I couldn’t carry on. Now I’m studying on my own, taking private lessons.”

Trouble juggling school schedules and training? “Yeah, but that’s not all. I’m 18 now, I’m not some irresponsible kid. My teachers, with a few exceptions, treated my sport like it was just a whim, an excuse to skip school or to cover up when I hadn’t studied. Not even for a second did they think that riding a 70-kilo bike at 230 kilometers an hour takes serious preparation, both physical and mental. I see myself as a serious professional, someone who’s committed to what he does. But my trips, my training, my wins never mattered as much as those of some classmate who played football in a little parish team. His was considered a sport, mine… just a way to show off for the girls, to act like a big shot. When my Italian teacher told me I’d never achieve anything good, not in school and not on a bike either, I realized it was time to make a clean break. And here I am, proud owner of my middle school diploma.”

Is it something that weighs on you? “No, because sometimes you find culture way more outside school walls than inside. I can handle an interview in English, I get by in French. My best friends are Japanese, I’m traveling the world, I’m proving I’m good at what I do… In short, I’m not doing too bad.”

Not even a little bit. So much so that it sparked the jealousy of a sacred monster like Max Biaggi. Between him and Rossi, there were real fireworks in Malaysia, where the 250cc champion threw at Valentino: “You’re not the Doohan of the 125cc. I know the young guys your age, and not all of them agree with you.”A real act of lèse-majesté, apparently caused by a comment Valentino made about the hotel they were staying at: “It’s a place that’s just about right for Biaggi.” And Max overheard him. So, is it open war with Biaggi? “What war? I’m not the Doohan of the 125cc and I know perfectly well that not all the guys my age agree with me.”

They say that you, even though you always have a quick comeback, didn’t reply to Biaggi’s remark. “I respect my elders.”

But is it really just because of that joke about the hotel, or is there more to it? “Ask him. I only have one thing more than Biaggi: I’m better looking. But there’s enough girls to go around, and from what I can see, he’s not doing too bad either.”

Does being a champion help when it comes to girls? “Of course it does. Bikes are a huge magnet for girls. And it’ll be even better when I can finally ride a real one on the street. A scooter just isn’t quite the same thing.”

Whenever he can, Valentino goes out with his lifelong friends, naturally riding around on scooters — the same scooters that the carabinieri station in Tavullia has an open file on. “It’s true. But it’s also true that when the carabinieri see a scooter doing a wheelie or speeding, they just assume it’s me riding it. Now that I’ve got a mobile phone, the marshal just calls me straight away: ‘Rossi, drop by the station, bring the scooter, and have someone drive you.’ It’s always the same scene, I show up at the station, leave the scooter, and walk out on foot. Only thing is, I’ve got more than one scooter. So the marshal ends up catching me again outside the bar, still riding.”

And to finish, there’s the first design of your helmet by Aldo Drudi: a fiery, fierce sun on one side, and a dark, moody moon on the other. “It’s the best-looking helmet in the whole championship. A real work of art, like everything Drudi makes. We came up with it together, I liked the idea of making it double-faced. Because the sun’s the most important thing, but, you know… the moon’s pretty special too.”

[intheupside]

I was paying zero attention to what was clearly some UPMC Lemieux Sports Complex coach wrapping up a private lesson before development camp starts, running the kid through drills. 

Then I actually paid attention for a second and no, it's Kris Letang and his 11-year-old son Alex. 

from dkpitt

@PenguinsPR: Today's @penguins development camp schedule:

9:00 AM - Skills session with 2030 draft-eligible prospect Alex Letang and his coach 10:00 AM-12:00 PM - Penguins prospects

[batmen-and-birds]

More interactions between the batentities and the people around them!

As already mentioned, Brucie flirts with the JL. It's what he does and he's a good sport when they aren't interested. It just makes them all question if Bruce would actually be open to dating half the league.

Also note that Brucie is NOT in he know when it comes to secret IDs of the other heroes. When Clark first talks about the farm and his parents Brucie is like "YOU HAVE A HUMAN LIFE?!?!?!".

Clark then reveals his name to him hoping that it would help but then Brucie is like "YOU'RE A REPORTER?!?!?!" and now Brucie is doing some hot-and-cold thing to Clark since "ugh, reporters never leave me alone" but also "I wouldn't mind giving Superman a private interview 😏"

In the end the league just decides it's easier to get the ID thing out of the way and unmask themselves. Brucie just stands there at the ones he doesn't know, like okay??? but he's soooo happy when he recognizes some of them.

After he got stuck in the toilet they now assign someone to watch him when he's in the Watchtower. Some get lowkey freaked out seeing Batman's face so smiley while others find it quite entertaining.

Most assume that Clark is on best terms with Brucie, but it's actually Oliver. He's spent the most time with the himbo and Brucie feels less judged since both have done most of the truly stupid stuff together. They can talk without flirting and goof off.

His family don't really know what to do to him outside of accompanying him to galas or having meals together. For them it feels like the uncanny valley effect and he feels like some unwanted pet, which breaks his heart a little (a lot).

He also doesn't know how to act around them, they're his children but outside of affectionate hugs and hair ruffles for the cameras they don't really interact with the Brucie side of Bruce.

The only ones that know how to handle him long-term are Dick and Alfred. Since Dick went back to Bluthaven after the first few days (he has his own life and the situation isn't that bad), Brucie just trails behind Alfred most of the time, after he's done doing his W.E. work.

After a while of being on the comms he finally develops deeper bonds with his kids. They now have inside jokes and Brucie learns the Bat's version first aid to help them after patrol. He's used to thinking of his kids as normal children, not trained vigilantes and already worries about them at the most basic stuff, wether it be using the grabbling hook or taking down a common thug.

The kids also start letting him into their lives. He starts driving Cass to dance lessons or accompanies Damien to art shows. Tim talks with him about W.E. stuff and Steph and Babs let him come along a shopping trip.

The biggest problem is bonding with Jason: Brucie doesn't remember how he lost him. He knows that he was kidnapped and killed, but that's also what the public knows about him.

He didn't even know that the Red Hood was his lost boy and when he realized that he was so confused on how he came back. And now he's so close but so far away.

[wttcsms]

CONCEPT FOR MY ANIME SPORTS BOYS BUT !!!! your parents skip town and leave you to take care of your middle school aged younger brother. the two of you are struggling to make ends meet, and to make matters worse, you find out that your brother has been getting bullied at school. the only thing that makes him feel better is playing the same sport character plays, and character is his idol. an old video resurfaces: it’s your little brother playing the sport by himself, trying to recreate all of character’s iconic moves. his classmates found the video and started using it to bully him some more, and they end up posting it all over tiktok so the whole world can laugh at him.

you don’t understand how people can be so cruel to a child, but there is at least one person who isn’t laughing at him: character. as a matter of fact, he’s going out of his way to get his team to contact you. not only is he giving yall vip access tickets to watch his next professional game up close, but he wants you two to meet not just him but his whole entire team.

when you two arrive, character is happy to meet your little brother — and momentarily stunned when you walk down from the private jet he sent to pick you two up. he knows what to expect when he sees your brother, but he doesn’t expect that the kid has the most gorgeous sister in the world. now he’s trying to come up with more reasons to see the two of you; private lessons to teach ur brother, more games for yall to attend, everything and anything he can do to get close to you.

just !!! he falls first and harder!!!!

[aficionadoenthusiast]

hi! i also love comedy! any chance we could get some more funny fic recs?

yes, absolutely!

pjo

sorry, don't have a ton of these, I tend to read more serious fics for this fandom

keeping it fruity by buoyantsaturn; valgrace, T, 4k; Leo is both so relatable and so silly, I love it

Leo huffed. “Sorry, I just don’t think I can support such senseless violence,” he grumbled, knowing that all of the excuses he and Nico had come up with over the last few years would be useless by that point. “What is a sport, really, if not an excuse to beat some stranger to a pulp?”

sex education by CordeliaRose; solangelo, E & M, 5-20k; I'm not normally a fan of smut, so if this one got me to read smut, you know it's good

Percy tries to give Nico a sex talk. It goes about as well as anyone could have predicted.

marvel

shelter order by deniigiq; team red, G, 46k; team red quarantine group chat fic, need I say more?

Little Spidey (Pink): Hello Twitter. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Spiderman has decided that we should share with you all our private chat. We will be doing so on the condition that y’all remain cool about it. You gonna be cool? (Peter decides to raise spirits of those in isolation by sharing parts of the Team Red chat online day by day.)

Fishing Isn’t Fair to the Fish by NezumiPi; defenders, T, 17k; I was not expecting this one to have so much humor. or an exorcism.

Spoilers for Defenders S1 and prior individual shows. In a magnificent display of poor judgment, Luke Cage invites the Defenders on an upstate fishing trip in they can get to know one another better and perhaps smooth over some minor interpersonal conflicts. Contains (in no particular order): Minor interpersonal conflicts, major interpersonal conflicts, moderate impersonal conflicts, Danny Rand’s undergarments, porn for the blind, misuse of pharmaceuticals, talking swans, occasional fishing, and some seriously unpleasant business.

Mr. Stark's Home for Idiot Teenagers by OffToNewPastures; Iron family, T, 98k; tbh it's been so long since I read this one that I don't remember what it's about, but I have it marked as funny, so here you go

Peter is there, slumped over the kitchen island, slowly cramming spoonfuls of Double Chocolate Cookie Crisp into his mouth, hair tousled and sticking up every which way, and Tony realizes with sudden clarity that he’s fighting a losing battle. Maybe not today, maybe he can put it off for a while, but someday he’s just going to have to give up and love this ridiculous kid. - In which Tony Stark learns object lessons about love, sacrifice, death, friendship, and parenthood; and makes his peace with the unfortunate reality that his penthouse will be crawling with asshole teenagers every weekend for the foreseeable future. Follows canon...loosely. Ahem.

Chaotic Peter by Isnt_it_pretty_to_think_so; Iron family, T, 15-20k; this one is hilarious and painful and gripping and so so beautiful, and it has a logical path to the Iron family trope that doesn't make me cringe. I stayed up to 5 am on a weekday reading it. No regrets. (My note on ao3: "Reread first story to laugh until you cry, reread second part to feel something," if anyone was doubting how I feel about this fic.)

"Is there a reason you're calling this late at night?" Tony asks, worried in spite of himself. "Tell me what's going on, kid." “Everything is one-hundred-percent fine,” Peter says. “Seriously, I've never been better. But I should let you know I have about thirty bricks of cocaine in my bedroom. Also, Karen won't let me turn off Instant Kill Mode. Also, Walmart discontinued my special razzleberry pink squeezy lemonade. Which isn't related to tonight's patrol, I'm just bummed about it.”  Or: The five times Instant Kill Mode is activated +1

Super Duper Side Effects by awesomesockes, whumphoarder; Avengers, T, 16k; most mcu fans probably recognize this one and know it's hilarious

The downside of an enhanced metabolism is that it renders most drugs completely ineffective. Captain America accepted this long ago as an occupational hazard. But after Peter sustains a serious injury in the line of duty and the doctors have no way to manage the pain, Steve decides to volunteer as a test subject for Bruce and Tony’s experimental super drug. However, the soldier ends up getting a little more than he bargained for. (Alternative title: Original Drug Tester: Steve Rogers)

Obligatory mention of the fic that caused this ask:

in technicolor by deniigiq; Marvel's various NYC vigilantes & Brett Mahoney, not rated (I'd give it a T), 120k; again. the observor pov gives the idea of wildlife being studied in their natural habitat, and it is so. fucking. funny.

Brett sighed and looked down at the folder in his hand. “Your name is Peter, right?” “Lawyer.” “Peter, we haven’t even started talking. Let’s just take a minute to ease up.” “Lawyer.” “Bud, we haven’t charged you with a crime. This is just talking.” “Law. Yer.” Goddamn. (Brett's encounters with Team Red/vigilantes and their weird fucking way of helping)

hp

Still Preoccupied... With 1979 by darkbluedark; drarry (+jily & wolfstar), T, 15-20k; pre drarry accidental time travel hanging onto their rivalry for convenience? hilarious.

It’s May 1979 and the Order has just apprehended a pair of mysterious wizards who look remarkably like a Potter and a Malfoy. Naturally, James Potter and Sirius Black are called in to identify the strangely familiar strangers and determine their backgrounds and loyalties. (This would be a lot easier if their captives weren’t convinced everyone they talk to is dead. It would also be easier if they didn’t spend half their bloody time bickering.)

sirius black and the "mystery girl" by tjmcharg; wolfstar, T, 29k; heteronormativity but for humor reasons

"You can't tell me who you're with?" Lily smiles at him hopefully. Sirius laughs. "Alright Evans, if you're so curious, I have a proposition for you" "We'll set up a little bet, you have until the end of the school year - so two months - to work out who I'm dating, or..." he pauses to think and with an evil smirk decides, "or you have to ask your crush out on a date."

pair of tossers with a cat by moonymoment; wolfstar, G, 10k; a cat nearly destroys them. in the middle of a war.

Something seemed to dawn on Remus then; something so obvious he couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it before. He frowned and looked at Sirius quizzically. “What?” “Are you…” Remus began, gaping slightly, “jealous of the cat, Sirius?” Sirius looked down. “I’m not jealous of the cat.” “You’re jealous of the cat!” “I am not jealous of the bloody cat.” Remus finds a stray cat on the street and brings it in. Sirius is not impressed. Chaos ensues.

(fuck jkr. for those of you who don't know me.)

(if y'all have any especially funny fics you wanna share, i would not be opposed 👀) (especially marvel and pjo 👀👀)

[bee-in-motion]

Active Futures: Why Sports Lessons for Kids in NYC Matter with Bee In Motion

In a city as vibrant and fast-paced as New York, children are constantly exposed to a wide array of experiences. Amid all the stimulation, it’s vital to provide structured, positive outlets that support their physical, mental, and emotional development. One of the most impactful ways to achieve this is through sports lessons for kids in NYC. Bee In Motion, a trusted name in youth athletics, offers customized and engaging programs that help children grow into confident, active, and healthy individuals.

The Importance of Sports in Childhood Development

Engaging in sports from an early age plays a critical role in a child’s development. Beyond the obvious physical benefits such as increased strength, coordination, and endurance, sports help kids learn essential life skills. Teamwork, discipline, perseverance, and goal-setting are all naturally woven into athletic training. For kids in New York City, where outdoor space can be limited and screen time often dominates, structured sports lessons provide a much-needed balance of movement and personal growth.

Bee In Motion recognizes the value of integrating physical fitness into a child’s everyday routine. Their sports lessons for kids in NYC are designed to be fun, challenging, and tailored to each child’s ability, ensuring a positive experience that fosters long-term engagement in active living.

What Makes Bee In Motion Unique

Bee In Motion stands out in the world of youth sports by offering a personal and adaptive approach. Their instructors aren’t just skilled athletes—they’re experienced educators who understand how to motivate and mentor children.

Sports Lessons Tailored to City Living

One of the greatest challenges for parents in NYC is finding safe, accessible, and effective physical activities for their kids. Bee In Motion addresses this challenge head-on by offering flexible scheduling and traveling coaches who can meet at locations convenient for the family—whether in Central Park, at a local recreation center, or even at home.

Their sports lessons for kids in NYC are structured to make the most of the urban environment, using available space creatively while maintaining a high standard of instruction. This flexibility makes it easier for busy families to ensure their children receive the physical activity and structured support they need.

Building Confidence and Healthy Habits

Participating in sports boosts a child’s self-confidence as they master new skills and see tangible improvements. Bee In Motion’s coaching style is positive and encouraging, helping children build resilience and self-belief both on and off the field. With regular participation in sports lessons, children develop habits that support a healthy lifestyle, including goal setting, time management, and stress reduction.

Conclusion

For families seeking meaningful, effective sports lessons for kids in NYC, Bee In Motion provides a top-tier experience that blends expert coaching with personalized attention. Their commitment to fostering healthy, confident, and active kids makes them a standout choice for sports instruction in the city. Enroll your child with Bee In Motion and give them the tools they need to grow stronger, move better, and thrive through sports.

[mintyisms]

Education Related Headcanons

What is your muse's relationship to education in general? Was their experience overall positive or negative?

Did your muse attend public or private school? Or some combination? Were they homeschooled? Or something completely different?

What's the highest level of education your muse has attained? Do they want to continue in higher education?

What was your muse's favorite school lunch? Least favorite? Were they a cold lunch or hot lunch kid?

Are there any field trips your muse fondly remembers? Do they have any horror stories?

What sort of things did your muse get into during recess? Sports? Hanging out on the monkey bars? Clapping erasers because they got held back for detention?

Who was your muse's favorite teacher and why? Least favorite?

Did your muse get bullied in school? What for and by who? How did they handle it?

How much of a role did technology play in your muse's education?

What was your muse's best and/or favorite class? Worst and/or least favorite class? Why?

Was your muse part of a clique or friend group or were they more of a loner? How many friends did they have?

Did your muse participate in extracurricular activities? If so, what were they? If not, why not? Did they want to?

Is there a class your muse regrets not taking while in school?

If your muse was called to the principal's office, would it most likely be for a good reason or a bad reason?

How did your muse get to school? Bus? Carpool? Walking? Did they stay on campus?

Did your muse have to deal with strict dress codes? Did they ever get in trouble for a dress code violation? Was it a valid issue?

How much time did your muse spend studying? Did they grasp lessons easily or did they struggle?

If your muse had to choose between studying academics, arts, or athletics, which would they choose?

Did your muse ever skip school? How often? Were they caught? What sort of punishment did they face?

Did your muse ever receive a superlative ("most likely to") award in the yearbook? If not, what award would they have been lock for?

[academyalmightysports]

Reasons to Take Private Swimming Lessons | Almighty Sports Academy

Have you ever thought about learning to swim but found communal and group learning to be counterproductive to your goals? Private swimming lessons have several advantages over group lessons, which make them a popular choice for students of all ages and skill levels. Here are five reasons why you should consider taking private swimming lessons and how they can help you improve your swimming skills.

Visit Us: https://www.almightysportsacademy.com/

Source URL: https://www.reddit.com/user/academyalmighty/comments/17lvhj1/the_top_5_reasons_to_take_private_swimming/

[kr-starz]

Modern Teen CaitVi, Vi is a few years older than Jinx and Jinx is like a little puppy trying to follow her and do what she's doing all the time. Vi doesn't mind it, she actually kind of liked it and missed it when Jinx finally detached from her hip. If Jinx wasn't hanging off of Vi, she'd be hanging around Ekko.

Whenever Vi has free time, she decides to spend it at the public library where a particular academic prodigy likes to visit. Vi and Cait knew each other from Elementary school, where Cait and Vi were always managing to be around each other and soon became friends. Until Cait switched to private schools that took up a lot of her time, as she began most of her extracurriculars.

But as Vi got older, She and Cait got closer, they texted and if Cait couldn't talk then she'd be at the library studying. Vi knew that and visited her very often.

They'd bicker and Vi would distract Cait from working, she'd show her new and exciting things she's done, showing off a concert she went to recently, bragging about a game she recently won, etc. Sometimes they hang out at Vi's place, where they flirt awkwardly or just talk about their crazy different lives.

Vi is a big sports fan

Caitlyn does archery and knows how to hunt, she goes with her mother every season to hunt for deer.

Vi does wrestling and has gone to boxing lessons

Vi occasionally gets into fights with the neighborhood kids for stupid petty reasons

Vi got really excited when Cait said she was into sports, but they had very different reactions when Vi pulls up Basketball and Cait pulls out fencing

[nonclassyparty]

tins without labels - chapter 1 (j.wy)

summary: Jung Wooyoung's life was always somehow intertwined with your own. from living in the same neighbourhood as kids to attending the same college; fights, bickering, bruises, teasing comments and tears. Wooyoung and you were never complete strangers but never friends either. Always somewhere in between, growing up with each other but never actually knowing one another. The relationship takes a confusing turn in your third year of college after an injury that places your football career on hold. Lonely, lost and confused, you find yourself at your first college party in the presence of none other than Jung Wooyoung asking him to show you what exactly have you been missing out on. playlist // my main masterlist // moodboard (tba)//click to donate to Palestine

pairing: jung wooyoung x reader warnings: drinking, little bit of kissing, descriptions of erm...male genitalia? cursing, cringe fest you've been warned. !word count: 9.3k taglist: @maru-matt @yawnzshit @mcsalterego @ddaeing @downbadreading @btshook (sorry if i forgot anyone but pls reply if u want to be added!)

previous chapter

(chapter 1; when we feel each other up)

Got different people inside my head, I wonder which one that they like best, I'm done with tryna have it all, and ending up with not much at all

present time (21 and 23 years old);

There was a really ugly drawing framed and hanging on the wall at the doctor's office.

It was a house tilting to one side with three stick figurines whose shoes were far too big next to it with strokes of green thrown everywhere which you presume is supposed to be grass. It was drawn by crayons.

You presume it's an art piece made by the doctor's kid but you hope she realizes early on that her daughter or son doesn't really have a proclivity for the arts.

But then again, maybe they will later on. Maybe they'll stand out amongst their peers and be further encouraged by their parents. Maybe they'll even take private lessons to get better. Maybe they'll get into art school and have the professor praise them up on how their talent is extremely rare. Maybe they'll even win some awards.

And then, maybe someone will break their hand so badly that they never get to hold a brush again.

Alright, now you were just projecting.

But what else is there to do as you sit in the almost sterile office with your dad by your side as the doctor keeps going on and on with a somber expression on her face. You're sure Doctor Son is a nice lady, if you were paying attention you'd maybe notice that she tries to break the news extra gently but you're barely listening.

There's been a lot of "it was more serious than we first thought", "rehabilitation will be a long and steady process", "a new excellent physical therapist works at the sports center on campus so she'll be able to visit him a couple times a week, we've already made sure that he gives all of his attention to her" and the most gruesome one, "another even minor injury and there's a risk of her not being able to walk again."

You don't really have to be paying too much attention to know what the underlined thought is.

No more football.

The persistent ache in your left knee serves a constant reminder of what happened almost four months ago, it was the last game of the season. Little did you know it might be the last game of your measly career.

You refuse to look at your dad, feeling the sadness radiate off of him like it does every time he speaks to any of the doctors you've visited in the past four months.

And it's been a lot of doctors.

The fact that you spent the whole summer at home for the first time since you finished high school didn't help. All he did was coddle you and stare in pity and disappointment. Or try to be overly positive and enthusiastic about your recovery.

You didn't know which was worse.

After the final doctor's appointment before the start of the new semester which you leave with barely saying a word during the almost half an hour you're there, you and your dad get lunch at a dinner just off campus.

The thick holder containing scans, blood tests, surgery papers and whatnot, lies on the table between the two of you and you feel like nothing could cut through the thick silence.

Your dad, of course, tries.

"You can still have an amazing career in education, you know? Your mother was a teacher and she loved her job."

It's just sometimes, your father really doesn't know how to beat around the bush and in this moment, you wish he did.

"Right." Is all you say.

Neither one of you comments on what you both know. Which is that you didn't give a fuck about your major in education. Sure, you had passing grades but that is because you needed to study something to stay on the team and not because you were actually interested.

Football was always the bigger picture, the real goal.

"You can always switch majors?" He offers and you nod again, thanking the waiter when he brings two bowls of noodles to your table. 

You don't want to say that switching majors in your third year of college seems like a complete waste, of both money and time.

He sighs and you know he's frustrated with you, you understand it as well but you can't control it. Talking about your career, now that your dream career is over and done with, is an extremely sore subject.

"You know what, you've been working so hard since before you even started college, you deserve to rest."

"I've been resting since May." You respond and he winces at the mention of May. When it all fell apart.

"That wasn't rest. It was recovery." You give him a bland look and he sighs again, "I'm just saying! Maybe you'll discover something else you like to do this semester."

"Doubtful." You murmur, the reality finally sinking in at least a little.

"It's not doubtful at all." Your dad scoffs, taking a slurp of his noodles. "You're twenty-one, your life just begun, I'm sure there are other things to do and new people to meet. You wouldn't know if you never even tried."

"Dad-"

"Get yourself a boyfriend. Go to parties. Find yourself some friends who aren't talking behind your back in the locker room-"

"They weren't my friends-"

"Live your life. Is my point. Don't be cooped up in your bedroom, refusing to see anyone like you were doing the whole summer. Just...try, at least." He is silently begging now and now, it's your time to sigh.

"Fine."

"Who knows...you might discover that football isn't all there is to life."

You go silent at that, embarrassed of your own thoughts on the matter so you just keep them to yourself.

-

You flip through the pages of the magazine that you've read front to back at least four times by now before throwing it on your bed.

Your dad left earlier this afternoon after you've settled into your dorm and since then you've just been lounging on your bed, trying to busy yourself with knick-knacks that you have lying around so the time could pass faster.

You adjust the ice pack on your knee a bit better and with a soft sigh, your eyes fall on your roommate.

Yunjin was sitting behind her desk that was pushed up right next to your identical one and was busy doing her makeup. Carefully applying a pretty shade to her eyelids as she moves her desk mirror to her liking.

She was getting ready to go to a party no doubt. It was the last Friday before the new semester after all and Yunjin was a frequent party goer from what you could tell in these years living together.

Yunjin and you have been roommates since freshman year and yet, you've barely spoken to each other. Always sticking to your sides of the generously sized dorm room, you guess it's because you don't have much in common with each other that you never tried to be friends.

You didn't know much about her if you were honest, just that she majored in political science, often dyed her hair and had a lot of friends. You were sort of the complete opposites from what you could tell.

But since she kept renewing her contract for the room with you every year, you think it's safe to assume that she at least doesn't mind you all too much.

Just...try, at least.

You clear your throat. Here you go...

"You, uh, you do your makeup really prettily." It's out of your mouth before you know it, you already feel awkward as it is but when your red haired roommate turns to you in surprise that maybe you even spoke in the first place - the awkwardness triples.

"Oh." Yunjin utters with raised brows before a tiny, careful smile settles on her face. "Thank you."

So...now what?

You both stare at each other for a long hard second and you hesitate, thinking it's best to leave it at that. Keeping up a conversation was never your strongest suit either. Now that you think of it, apart from football, you don't have any strong suits at all.

"I, uh, I had a lot of practice." She offers awkwardly, motioning to her face with the eyeshadow brush wedged gently between her fingers.

"Right, yeah, I can totally see that." You nod, surprised that she responded back with something that almost sounds like she wants the conversation to keep going. You clear your throat, "The eyeliner and stuff, seems tricky."

It seems like that was all it took for the ice to disapparate for Yunjin because next thing you know, she's rambling without a plan to stop;

"Oh, that's just at the beginning, the first couple of tries I mean and that goes for everything makeup related or, hm, maybe everything life related as well, wow." Yunjin shakes her head as if life philosophies were certainly not more important than a perfect winged eyeliner, "But anyways, I was looking like a panda for the majority of my junior year in high school." She chuckles at that, not looking embarrassed at all, "Had those thick eyebrows as well, it was a complete disaster. But the longer I wore makeup, the better I got at it and the more I learned what suited my face."

You clutch the pillow in your lap as you diligently listen to her, feeling like a younger sibling watching her older sister get ready for a party. 

"People say eyeliner isn't in fashion anymore, like it's an old makeup trend or whatever," Yunjin rolls her eyes at you and you chuckle lightly, shyly because you had no idea what was in trend, "Such bullshit, I'll never stop wearing it. It looks so good on me."

She observes the perfect thin wings decorating her eyelids and almost sighs a little in admiration.

You nod in agreement, not being able to stop yourself, "You have big eyes so the eyeliner frames them perfectly. It suits you."

Yunjin smiles happily, "Right? I totally look like Jihyo from TWICE, right?"

You hesitate, having no idea what Jihyo from TWICE looked like but you don't have the heart to sway her happiness so you just give her a small nod.

You continue to chat, mostly Yunjin talks, and by the amount she seems to have to say to you, you start to think that maybe all this time it wasn't that Yunjin avoided getting to know you because she wasn't interested in knowing her roommate. It seems like she had the idea that you had no interest into getting to know her, so she never bothered.

Once she's done with her makeup and she looks over herself in her precious small round mirror standing on her desk in satisfaction, she turns to you with a glare.

It's not a glare as if you've wronged her somehow but a glare of curiosity and seemingly not taking 'no' for an answer. You raise your brows.

Her glare deepens, one inquisitive but perfectly plucked eyebrow raised, "Do you want me to do your makeup?"

"Oh," You huff out, for some reason embarrassed that she's aware you're a complete klutz in that department, "I don't know."

"Hm, why not? You might like it. Makeup is fun!" 

"No, I know I'll like it." Your cheeks flush, embarrassment growing at the thought of her thinking that you're one of those girls who thinks she's better for not being interested in makeup. It wouldn't be the first time it happened. "I just...won't I look stupid?"

"Stupid?" Yunjin frowns as if the idea is ridiculous and maybe it was a little. "Why would you look stupid? I'm basically a pro at this, I wouldn't let you look stupid."

"Oh, I didn't mean anything about your...y'know, skills." You grimace when she continues to stare at you, not really in the mood to disclose that ever since a stupid teenage boy named Son Eunwoo laughed at you at prom for trying to look pretty that you've given up on it as it obviously didn't suit you all that much. "Just, y'know, people will think I look silly if I wear it. It's not my thing...y'know?"

There's a faint moment of silence and you cast your eyes somewhere else as you feel awkward all over again for ruining the relaxed mood. Finally, Yunjin speaks,

"Y/N," She calls quietly, face set in a serious expression when you bring your eyes up to her again, "Do you want me to do your makeup?"

You blink at her a couple of times, mouth parted as she sits in her chair, perfectly curled hair and perfectly applied makeup, and waits for your response.

"I'll go wash my face."

"Yes, you go do that and don't forget to moisturize."

It doesn't take more than twenty minutes for Yunjin to do your makeup. Before she starts, you carefully tell her you don't want too much and she says she'll ask before everything she applies if you want it or not.

And she really does.

She places a little bit of foundation just to cover the natural redness of your cheeks and the couple of small pimples that appeared on your chin. She foregoes contouring because you tell her you don't want that, not sure what's the purpose of it. 

She goes a little bit crazy with the eyeshadows though, maybe she notices that you have the most interest in them. Glitter especially. It makes your eyes look glossy, almost wet but you're sure you're not describing that properly.

She even does some thin eyeliner on you, some mascara, brushes out your eyebrows but doesn't fill them out because you tell her you don't like them looking sharp. Some blush, a pretty light orange color that decorates your cheeks in a way that it surprises you by how good it looks on your face. And at the end, some lip gloss to finish everything off.

All through out, you two talk. About school, about your hometowns, about your parents.

It's bonding, you realize. 

You never bonded with anyone through makeup before, it was usually over football with Ryujin or gossiping over the people you knew from school because that's what you had in common with her. But football is gone now, so is high school and for years now, so was Ryujin.

It was hard to keep up with a friendship that was out of necessity in the first place, even harder when there's an entire ocean separating you now.

But with Yunjin, although you seemingly have nothing much in common, the conversation just flows with each soft stroke of a brush or pat on the cheek.

"See!" She hands you her round mirror to look at yourself, "You look so good!"

"Oh," You muse out, staring at the reflection, admiring the glitter and shimmer and all the colors you're not used to having on your face, "I like it."

"Now, don't get me wrong!" She warns quickly with her hands up, painted nails glistening under the shitty dorm lights, "You look good without makeup too. Well," She rolls her eyes at herself, "You obviously know that since you don't wear it at all as it is but like, if you sometimes want to wear it, you'll know now that it won't look stupid on you."

You chuckle shyly at her short rant, placing the mirror back on her desk. 

You wished Yunjin's words of affirmation would be enough to rid you of all your insecurities regarding makeup or...anything 'girly', they don't but you don't have the heart to tell her that. "Thanks."

She nods in response before checking her phone for the time apparently. She throws it on her bed before clapping her hands, "Well, since you already have your makeup done, you might as well go to this party with me."

That leaves you stumped. You turn to look at her from the chair in front of her desk. Party? "Wait, what?"

Yunjin doesn't even grace you with a look, standing in front of her closet which was flung open as she sorts through different materials and patterned clothes.

"Come on L/N, brush your hair out and get into a pair of jeans that make your ass look great." Her head peaks out from behind the door of her closet, she winks at you, "I'll worry about your top."

You really don't know how this happened. You don't know how you ended up here, in the jeans that hugged your hips and thighs the tightest and in the most preposterously skimpy top you have ever worn with your brushed out long hair falling over your back and your lips tinted a deep glossy red. You were a willing participant in it but you really have no idea how this happened.

"I don't think this is an appropriate outfit." You tell Yunjin as you look over yourself in the tall mirror which you both share. "I don't think this shirt is supposed to be worn like this."

"Actually," Yunjin said as she fixed her skirt in the mirror behind you and paid no mind to your ongoing breakdown, "For the last three months I thought I got scammed by the online shop I ordered that top from because it looked nothing like the photos on me but now looking at you, I'm starting to realize that the online shop is legit and that I simply didn't have the tits to fill it out."

You spluttered about at her commentary as you stared at the outfit, wondering if it would be rude to chicken out on her now.

Your light blue denim flare jeans and white sneakers looked totally acceptable. They were yours after all. 

The shirt, the offending bright red sleeveless low cut crop top that almost had your boobs out completely for the whole entire world to see, on the other hand, was certainly not.

You don't think you've ever worn something so short, so tight, so...revealing. In your life.

It's not even that you felt uncomfortable in it, really, you thought you looked hot but it just....wasn't You.

And at that point, you had to remind your self very strongly that you had no idea what You actually was. Football was no more (at least for the near future but you have an inkling it's for forever) and maybe the you that was tied to it and that the rest of your small world knew should rest for a little bit while you explore what other you's are there.

Beats moping around and feeling sorry for yourself, at least.

Yes. You will try your hardest not to care what anyone else might think tonight. You looked good. Sexy as fuck, as Yunjin said.

It wasn't all she said. Yunjin, as you begin to find out in the last hour you've actually spoken to her, is the best when it comes to making a girl feel good about herself.

"God, Y/N, your body is crazy." You hear her say as she pulls your hand away from your stomach that was bare since the skimpy shirt or jeans didn't cover it. She stares at your abs. "Do you still workout?"

Still. Meaning she also knows you're a retired athlete at only twenty-one years of age. Once again, you have to try your best to not let that reminder dampen your mood.

"Thanks." You respond clearing your throat, giving her a weak smile. "Yeah, I workout five times a week."

You don't mention the physical therapy you're about to start next week or the fact that all your workouts are under strict supervision ever since the injury happened. That, starting from next week, two other people will be responsible of you staying in shape.

It's so pitiful, you're so used to doing everything on your own.

"Five?!" Yunjin's jaw drops before she scoffs, looking at her body in the mirror with overly critical eyes.

Yunjin seemed to be naturally on the skinnier side, she didn't have any muscle built up. Not like you, years of doing football made your physique change, your body looked amazing - you were aware of that. Personal trainers, coaches both male and female told you so at least....'Defined thighs, defined stomach, toned arms...'. You heard enough about your body to know that it looked good.

It took years of sweat and regular gym hours to make it that way though and you feel bad that Yunjin seems to be comparing it to her own.

"When I was in my best shape, I had a whole team of people working with me from diet to workouts, that includes my coach as well." You chuckle lightly, as she turns her eyes from her stomach to you, "Everyone was expecting me to go pro so...The university invested a lot in me."

You force out another laugh, not trying to turn an attempt to stop the comparisons into a pity party. "Even now when I won't be playing, I'll have two people working with me."

When all you get in return is a dumbfounded stare, you groan feeling like you read the situation incorrectly. Your social cues still need some catching up to do.

So, there's nothing left to do when you feel so uncomfortable but ramble and it's what you do best, you will be quick to learn.

"This is stupid, I don't know if that's what you were doing and I'll feel like shit if I say it but ended up assuming it wrong but I'll say it anyway just in case; if you were comparing yourself to me, don't, I had professionals working with me for the past three years. Professionals that are extremely expensive and finished schools and shit to learn how to make people look hot and fit, so...." You trail off, avoiding her eyes at all cost and scratching behind your neck awkwardly.

The silence is so long that it almost wills you to run out of the room and maybe ask for a permanent roommate change, just to beat Yunjin to the punch. Instead, you hear a stifled giggle.

You glance at her just to see your roommate bite back a grin.

You huff, cheeks turning red from the embarrassment because you barely speak but when you do, it's really almost always complete and utter shit, as you try to hide your own smile.

"You're a nice girl, Y/N."

"Yeah, yeah." You huff, always terrible at taking compliments, "So are you, I guess."

She snorts at your awkwardness but doesn't further comment on it as she rummages through her jewelry box and pokes big hoop earrings on.

"And you can keep that shirt if you want...God, I hate you big boobed bitches." You let out a surprised laugh at that as she rummages some more through her jewelry box. "Do you have any earrings for yourself? I'd offer you a necklace but I think it's hotter if your neck is bare honestly."

"Um," You approach your desk and pull out your mom's jewelry box with a humble amount of items in it. You show her your tiny golden hoops, "What about these?"

"Yeah, those are great. Put those on and let's get ready to go, Chaewon might be dancing on tables by now."

As you lock the door to your dorm and turn to leave, Yunjin intertwines your arms as you both walk down the hall crowded by college students either going in or going out.

New girl friend, not so bad, you think to yourself.

Chaewon is not dancing on tables when you get there. You don't exactly know who Chaewon is but there's nobody dancing on tables in the crowded frat house you've walked into. You don't know anyone there, you thought you might see some girls from your team at least despite not getting along with them the best but you don't.

Yunjin, on the other hand, seems to know everyone.

She greets every living soul in the dusty, stuffy living room and every living soul greets her back. You guess it's safe to say that your roommate slash new girl friend is very popular with the party crowd at your campus.

As it's your first ever college party, you just follow her around like a lost puppy but she never makes you feel like a lost puppy, instead, she introduces you to every person that comes to chat with her even though you can hardly remember their names. You appreciate that more than you'd like to admit.

You end up in the kitchen which is less crowded but still has a handful of people in it where Yunjin shoves the classic red party cup in your hand and clinks it with her matching one, telling you to drink up.

At least you're not a complete virgin in this area. You drank before, you weren't an expert or anything because alcohol is limited for athletes but still, it's one of the first 'not first's of the night.

You meet Chaewon who is bubbly and cute with her bob and sparkly eyes. She's not nearly as drunk as Yunjin led you to believe she would be. When you comment on it, Chaewon smacks Yunjin's arm jokingly.

"You've made the girl think I'm an alcoholic or something." She scolds your roommate with a smirk before turning to you, smile back to complete innocence, "I don't even drink that much, Y/N. Honest."

Yunjin comes closer to mutter in your ear, "She's a liar, it's just that she's trying to be sober to see if the guy she's into comes alone tonight."

"Oh!" You nod and give Chaewon a reassuring smile as she goes beet red in the face and glares at Yunjin who continues to tease her.

You were about to tell Yunjin that you much prefer the crowd in the kitchen than the living room area and that you'd hope to stay here a bit more but you don't get a chance to.

 Loud hoots echo through the kitchen and you turn your head to see what the ruckus is all about only to see the bane of your very existence walk in with a wide smile along with a group of other guys, greeting everyone like he's the king of the world and with the way everyone in the room treats him - he might as well be.

Of course. Of fucking course, Jung Wooyoung would be considered the life of the party.

He can be! You don't give a fuck! But why did it have to be the first party that you are attending.

You try to hide your scowl by taking another sip of your drink, trying your hardest not to let your eyes trace his movements from the other side of the kitchen island but one second your eyes are coasting over his ridiculous outfit (which he looks damn near scrumptious in but that's besides the point and something you will never admit that you ever thought about for even a second) and the next thing you know - his eyes are meeting yours.

You quickly whip your head to stare into the living room, feeling the edge of the counter dig into your back.

Yunjin and Chaewon are talking about something, laughing loudly through the noisy room and you're trying to hard to keep up with their conversation but that turns out to be impossible now that you're aware of a certain menace lurking about.

And lo and behold, quickly enough he skulks away from his group of friends and sneaks up to your side in three long strides.

"Well, well, well, do my eyes deceive me or is this Y/N Y/L/N at a frat house party?"

You stand rigid as his clothed elbow brushes your bare one but otherwise don't give him any further acknowledgement. Yunjin, from your freshly learned discovery is ever the social butterfly, grins with an eyeroll.

"Don't be a dick, Wooyoung."

Oh. Oh.

Yunjin knows Wooyoung. Well, that makes just about everything a thousand times worse.

"What? I didn't say anything." Jung Wooyoung defends with a smug smile from next to you before giving Chaewon a charming (or at least what might be charming by some people's standards, definitely not yours or anything) smile. "Chaewon, hello."

She stifles a laugh, "Hi, Wooyoung."

You're irritated to the highest degree for some reason.

Why were you never on the receiving end of his charming smiles? Again, charming by some people's standards. Let it be known, it's not by yours. Not that you want to be on the receiving end of any kind of Jung Wooyoung smile but just...why aren't you ever?

"Can't believe you two managed to get babyface over here out of her room for once." He comments and for a second you have no idea who he's referring to. Until Chaewon laughs lightly again before motioning towards Yunjin.

"That's all Yunjin. I just met Y/N, actually."

"Lucky you." Wooyoung adds and only after his second mischievous glance do you realize they're talking about you.

"Babyface?" You turn to him, growing outraged as his lips stretch into a wide grin. What is it with him and these weird nicknames which all contain the word 'baby' in them. What happened to calling you a troll like he did in middle school and moving about his night?

He shrugs, "I reckon it's better than crybaby."

"You reckon?" You scoff, not being able to stop yourself. Not even a full minute with him and you're already showcasing the gnarly childish side of yourself to girls you were hoping would become your friends. "Wow, how many years of college and you're finally using big words, Jung."

Wooyoung, for reasons you could never wrap your head around, looks positively delighted at your quip. "If you think 'reckon' is a big word then I have no further comments, Y/L/N."

You flush a deep red at that as a glare fully sets down on your face, aimed entirely towards him now. He bites his lip to stop himself from laughing which only makes you grow redder.

"So, you two know each other?" You forgot for a split second that the two of you were in the presence of your new friends. Yunjin stares at you with brows raised.

With a solemn sigh, you respond, "We were neighbours."

"We still are." Wooyoung adds, cozying up to you further. You watch in contempt the way his shoulder brushes yours and his arm lays on the kitchen island behind you, one wrong move and his arm would be around your waist. Seriously, why is he so damn close?

To your own embarrassment, you find yourself not moving away, liking his warmth and whatnot. Maybe, he smells nice as well. Just a little bit. Something citrusy and delicious. Whatever.

"Oh?" Yunjin asks, looking awfully too interested in your relationship with Wooyoung. Not that there is a relationship. Your brows furrow as you observe the way she silently communicates with Chaewon.

"What?" You ask, lost entirely. 

Chaewon gives you the same, overly enthusiastic smile, "Oh, nothing."

Wooyoung's chest shakes against you from silent laughter about something you must've missed and you turn to glare at him. He didn't do anything, you just felt like it.

A couple of minutes of conversation pass and you find yourself even enjoying it, despite the little nuisance stuck to your side. It's been awhile since you hung out with anybody, you never thought you even needed it but you think you understand now the hype around these college weekend hangouts.

Until it somehow dips to Yunjin and Chaewon ditching you.

"Y/N, remember that guy Yunjin was talking to you about? The one I have a crush on?" You nod as Chaewon talks against your ear, "Well, he just got here and Yunjin and I will go say hi to him."

"Oh, I'll come with!" You say pathetically before Yunjin loudly exclaims "NO!"

"No, Y/N, you stay right here with Wooyoung, okay?" She motions to the guy next to you, "You two seem to have so much in common!"

She's giving you a weird smile, overly wide, overly excited and you have trouble reading what she's trying to tell you, not knowing her nearly enough to be able to read girl code already.

You can barely get a word in and they're already gone, whisked by the living room crowd and you're stuck with Jung Wooyoung of all people by your side, feeling completely and utterly stupid. 

They...ditched you? Did Yunjin regret inviting you? Did she find you embarrassing? Maybe you should just go home.

A deep sigh is heard by your side and you're once again reminded with who they left you with.

"Y/L/N, they didn't ditch you. They don't hate you or whatever it is that you scrambled up in that big head of yours, they're trying to set you up with me." Wooyoung lazily explains from your right and you turn to look at him like he's crazy. What surprises you more than his statement is the fact that he's actually sticking by your side.

"What? Set you up with me?" You scoff, crossing your bare arms over your chest, "Don't be ridiculous."

He snorts, "You'd rather think they ditched you than trying to get you laid?"

You go silent at that. Laid. How preposterous. How insane and how ridiculous.

It's another thing that you're a complete virgin to. Literally and figuratively. You've never went with a boy past a clumsy make out session. Get laid, you scoff inwardly, how silly.

Suddenly, you're aware of a pair of eyes on the side of your face and you're not surprised to find Jung Wooyoung staring at you in amusement. With all your defenses up, you ask, "What?"

His eyes twinkle with mirth. "I didn't say anything."

Another moment of silence between the two of you passes. Some guy comes to greet Wooyoung, he gives you a small nod in greeting which you return and after some small talk between the two of them he walks away, leaving you two alone once again in the middle of the semi-crowded kitchen.

Wooyoung inches closer to you again, mirroring your stance now by leaning against the island with his back. "Is being alone with me that scary that you refuse to talk?"

"Scary?" You scoff again, it's all you seem to do in his presence, without even looking at him. "Don't flatter yourself too much, Jung, you're not nearly as intimidating as you like to think you are."

"Who said I thought I was intimidating?" He asks calmly, enjoying the way you're riled up for no apparent reason.

You don't answer his question, aware that you're being a bitch for no reason. But it's his fault if anything, years of juvenile fights made Jung Wooyoung bring out the worst in you.

"These parties don't seem like they're all that." You comment, more to yourself than anything but he's obviously listening so you decide to include him in the conversation. "Don't you get bored of them?"

Wooyoung hums from next to you, lightly swaying to the music from the living room as he hands you a cold cup of...something and takes one for himself as well. It feels weird that he actually is sort of attentive by getting you a drink when he noticed your empty cup on the island. You decide not to dwell on it too much.

"Bored? Not really, they get repetitive but there's always something fun to do." He responds, mouth quirking up as he looks down at you. Your eyes flicker down to his lips just in time for his tongue to swipe across his bottom lip. You look away quickly.

Clearing your throat, for the life of you, you have no idea why you nod to a couple in the corner right next to the kitchen almost having intercourse against a wall. "Like that?"

Wooyoung snickers and you feel yourself flush slightly but you blame it on the drink which is...much better than whatever Yunjin handed to you at the beginning of the night. "Don't blame people for having fun, Y/L/N."

You turn to him with your nose crinkled, "That's your idea of fun?"

Wooyoung seems a bit surprised and yet strangely intrigued by the course of the conversation. Maybe you are too but in this moment, it feels all too exhilarating with him being so close and you being a complete and utter virgin and all. God, if Chaewon and Yunjin left you here in hopes of getting you laid, maybe they were right.

There's no reason to be acting like this around Jung Wooyoung.

Honestly, what is wrong with you Y/N? Maybe you really should fuck someone. You'd stop thinking about Jung Wooyoung this way and lose your virginity at last.

Two birds with one stone.

"I know lots of ideas of fun." Wooyoung starts before he gives you that devastating grin of his that you despised even as a lovesick teenage girl as he subtly nods to the couple, still at it in the corner, "That is one of them. Although I'd at least take it up to one of the bedrooms upstairs."

Your nose crinkles in disgust again at the thought of the state of the beds in these dirty testosterone filled frat houses. "Gross, they probably don't even change the sheets."

"My apartment is two blocks away." Wooyoung adds, a little too quickly in your, once again completely virgin, opinion. "I always have that option as well, y'know?"

You blink a couple of times, staring at the kitchen tiles as you start thinking that you're not talking about his ideas of fun only anymore.

Was he-? Is he trying to-? No. No way. Do not.

"Right." You say quietly, taking a tiny sip of your drink before smacking your lips.

There is no way that in any shape or form Jung Wooyoung is attempting to flirt with you. 

He's quiet for only a couple of seconds before two other guys approach him, doing those weird half hugs half handshakes that assholes like Jung Wooyoung use to greet their friends. Which he seems to have a bunch of. Mr. Popular he is.

While they converse, your eyes are still stuck on the couple making out in the corner of the room and to not seem like a complete and utter creep, you draw your eyes away from them into the living room where...all you seem to see are couples.

Flirting. Kissing. Grinding on each other (Gross). Humping on the couch (Double Gross, you're sure people use that to sit on ordinary days). Clumsily walking up the stairs with their hands already on each other's clothes (Triple Gross). They're all going to have sex!

Meanwhile, you're a virgin. Not by choice either, if it were up to you you'd grab the first guy you see right this second and let him fuck you just to get it over with. It's not like you're saving yourself for someone special or anything. Too bad that they all seem to be taken one way or another and the only guy you've spent the whole night talking to is-

Wait.

Nononono.

But-

Wait.

You turn to observe Jung Wooyoung by your side, who is still talking to his two buddies. None of them paying you any mind.

As you mentioned before, there was a general consensus going around that Jung Wooyoung was good looking. You've seen him only a handful times since that night he dropped you off home after prom even if you're both on the same campus but you can admit (although you'll outwardly deny it if anybody asks) that he has gotten even hotter.

His face lost all of his baby fat with years that went by, his jawline got sharper and lips plusher. His eyes were expressive and the mole under one of them was cute. His hair was still long, you don't know if he cut it after prom night and just let it grow out again or if this was simply the length her preferred, now all black but it suited him immensely.

He had nice hands as well. Veiny hands, long fingers with nice and tidy nails. And you might've called his outfit ridiculous but you only did it to fulfill your role as his self-appointed enemy, it wasn't that ridiculous. Just a pair of baggy jeans and a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up. You guess he knows that he has sexy hands. The first three buttons of his shirt were undone, making sure to showcase the naturally tanned smooth skin underneath and a necklace decorating his collarbones.

This...whore. 

A man that plays up his good physical attributes this well could be nothing else but a man that gets around a lot.

When you notice that you've spent a good two minutes doing nothing but checking Jung Wooyoung out, you notice that his two friends have left already and he's holding his red cup while staring at you with an amused smirk on his face.

"What now?" He asks and you part your lips before licking them, almost shivering when you catch Wooyoung following the action closely.

Well, your dad did say that should live your life and try at least. His words, not yours!

Although when he said them, you are most definitely sure your dad didn't think you'd ever be applying them when asking Jung Wooyoung to take your virginity but what he doesn't know won't put him in an early grave.

You are twenty-one years old and among a lot of other things, you are horny. It's time to get a move on.

"I'm going to ask you something now and for once," You let out a soft sigh, eyes fluttering shut as you can't believe you're about to do this before opening them to level Jung Wooyoung with an open stare as you inch closer to him to make sure he can hear every word, "Just this once, I ask of you, nicely, to not be a dick about it. If you're not up for it, just...just let me down gently. Don't laugh at me, please, just tell me no and we'll forget it ever happened."

All traces of amusement leave Wooyoung's eyes after your all-too-honest speech and he turns to rest his hip against the kitchen island to be face to face with you. He looks serious and asks quietly, "What do you wanna ask me, Y/L/N?"

You take a deep breath, feeling undeniably nervous under his heavy gaze. "Those ideas of fun you mentioned before, the ones involving your apartment...."

Wooyoung presses the rim of the cup against his lower lip, teeth gently grazing it before he takes a sip. He nods, looking a little confused as he swallows, teeth coming back to bite on the cup.

"Mind showing me?"

It takes him a second to catch on but when he does, it only takes another second for the mischief in his eyes to triple and lips placed against the rim of his red cup to stretch into a wide breathtaking smile.

-

Wooyoung had an inkling of an idea where the course of the night would take him when he first left his apartment. Have a drink or two, mess about with the guys for a few hours and maybe if he was up to it, find someone to take home.

 But this... if someone told him this would happen, he'd burst out laughing and call that person crazy. Insane. Deranged. A lunatic. 

Really, he had no idea how the hell this happened. 

This being two handfuls of your jean-covered ass in his hands, tongue shoved deep into your mouth as he pushes you against his hallway wall and swallows every tiny sound you make while your hands tug and rake through his hair.

He's pretty sure your dark red lip gloss is all over his cheeks from how messy and rushed the kissing is. Everything tastes like artificial cherries, a taste too sweet for Wooyoung's liking accompanied by a tinge of vodka and lemonade that you've both been drinking.

Your hands are soft when they run over his jaw and latch onto his shoulders, he swallows another surprisingly sweet whine of yours and slips a leg between your thighs. Embarrassingly enough, Wooyoung is already hard and once his hands slip from your ass to your hips just to feel the way you move them as you grind against his thigh - he fears he might finish in his pants.

Yeah, if at the start of the night someone told him that Y/L/N Y/N would be dry humping him in the hallway of his small studio apartment after he went out of his way to keep her company at a party, he surely would've dialed the nearest psychiatric institution to take that person in for much needed treatment.

When you reward him with a whimper that goes straight to his dick for placing a kiss underneath your ear, Wooyoung starts coating your neck in slow hot kisses and bites that leave you trembling in his arms. 

He's been (as subtly as he could) staring at the naked skin that your shirt revealed for the majority of the night anyway so, truly, this isn't much of a chore for him.

When his teeth gently graze your clavicle, he pulls away for just a moment and realizes he's finally gotten a front seat view of your tits.

Jesus Christ.

When the fuck did you become hot?

Wooyoung always found you cute at most. And fine, he thought you were pretty too that night he drove you home from your prom night. But that's where it all ended. He didn't think about you all too much in any other way given your history and barely saw you as it is.

Looking at you now...your hooded eyes that glittered around the corners. Flushed cheeks and heavy breaths that made his head spin. Disheveled long hair that fell down your back and that he wanted to tangle his fingers in (which he quickly did as soon as that thought appeared, no time like the present!). And those fucking tits covered with nothing but a sorry excuse for a shirt that clung to your torso.

Wow.

It really must be true when they say that distance makes the heart grow fonder. 

Although there's little heart involved in this situation and a whole lot of thinking with his dick.

He pulls the thick strap of your top a little and watches at it smacks against your skin gently. You keep quiet, breaths still heavy as you watch him.

"This shirt is fucking ridiculous, Y/L/N."

No time left for talking, his fingers curl around your waist again as he bends down to place kisses against your chest. You both probably smell like smoke, sweat and booze but there's a soft layer of vanilla mixed into it the closer he gets to you and Wooyoung finds himself not minding the combination.

"I-It looks bad?"

It's the first words you've spoken since you stumbled into his apartment and Wooyoung has to pause, almost in disbelief. His first reaction is annoyance, not pegging you as the type of girl to fish for compliments by acting insecure even though she knows very well she looks delectable.

But then, the more he stares, the more he notices the way you twitch in his hold, shifting your gaze around his face in order to avoid his eyes, his annoyance disappears. You are insecure about the shirt. You are genuinely wondering whether or not it looks good on you.

And Wooyoung is nothing, if not ready to please at all times.

"I wanna drag it off of you with my teeth." He says the honest truth, hating the way his voice is low and husky. What the fuck is he doing. Why is he breathing so heavily?

The blush that overtakes you doesn't stop at your face but slowly curls around your neck and appears at the top of your chest. He hums, satisfied with the reaction he got before going back to business.

The business being your marvelous tits.

With his hand still curled around your waist as he lowers down so his forehead is basically resting on your bare chest, he groans once he thumbs over your left breast and feels a hard nipple under the material.

"Are you not wearing anything under this?" He murmurs against your skin, groaning again once he feels your fingers intertwine with his hair. Wooyoung doesn't wait for a response but roughly pulls one of the thick straps down your arm and places a hand over your naked breast feeling its weight in his hand.

Jesus fucking Christ.

He thumbs at your nipple, liking the soft moan that escapes you at the action as you continue to grind against his clothed thigh.

"Y-Yunjin said it didn't need a-a bra." You stutter out through a whisper and he places a soft kiss to the middle of your chest as if to soothe you before returning his attention to what's really important.

God bless Yunjin then. Wooyoung should remind himself to buy her that chicken sandwich she likes so much tomorrow morning.

His thumb rubs over the hard pink nipple one last time before its enveloped by his lips, tongue twirling around it and arm tightening around your waist as your breath hitches and you twitch even more in his hold.

When you let out a high pitched moan once his teeth gently graze the soft bud, Wooyoung thinks he'll send Yunjin a whole damn buffet to her dorm.

Wooyoung releases your nipple with a 'pop' that makes you groan lewdly and he scrambles to stand up to his full height to get the offending red shirt off your body.

"Off." He mutters and you quickly grab the ends of the shirt to pull it off, needing Wooyoung's help since it was genuinely so tight on your torso.

With your hair disheveled even more now and bare chest on full display, Wooyoung almost kneels down in front of you.

His dick ached.

"Oh my fucking God." He mutters, burying his face into your chest as he licked and kissed and sucked and...

"Bed." You whisper through a moan, tugging at his hair. You grit out almost bossily, "B-Bed!"

"Bed?" Wooyoung looks down on you in confirmation, body now completely pressed against yours and when he sees your wide, desperate but sure eyes, he quickly nods. "Bed."

His lips are back on yours again, hand grasping at your jaw as he pulls you from the wall and leads you further into his studio apartment. The bed was only a couple of feet away anyways.

You grunt against his lips as you trip over something and he pushes it away with his foot (it was a sneaker that fell out of place as he was getting ready in a hurry), continuing to lead the way to his bed.

"You take off your shirt too." You whisper, almost shyly which causes something warm to swirl in his stomach. He obeys quickly, dropping his shirt to your feet before pulling you in with a hand at the back of your neck, biting at your lower lip and letting out a small laugh as you gasp.

"Pants too." You add innocently and he huffs, growing amused at your bossy nature even in the bedroom.

So, of course, he'll be a little shit about it.

Wooyoung drops himself on the bed, thanking God he changed his sheets this morning, and obnoxiously spreads out his legs. He observes you with a tilted head and a grin on his face, "Why don't you take them off?"

-

You lick your lips at the request, feeling like it's awfully hot in the room despite the fact that you're not wearing a shirt. You without a shirt in front of Jung Wooyoung with your tits on full display was another thing that you weren't ready to unpack just yet.

He's beautiful.

Wooyoung's skin is a pretty color of fresh honey and you carefully step closer, between his legs, to place a hand on his firm chest and feel his velvety skin. He watches your every move with hooded eyes, holding himself up with his arms placed behind him on the bed.

There's a tattoo on the side of his ribs, one that you would never know about unless you see him like this, so you run a thumb over it in admiration. Still, you don't want to take too long at the risk of coming off as weird, so with all the bravery you can muster - your hand drops to the button of his jeans and you gently (because of your fucking knee) lower yourself down to sit between his legs.

You thumb it open and pull the zipper down, shivering at the way Wooyoung's lips part and he softly exhales in what seems to be anticipation. You further flush when you finally get to see the outline of his....well, his dick.

You felt it against your hip, when you were kissing by the entrance door but you didn't have the guts to ever look down.

When Wooyoung lifts his hips up to help you get his pants off, you realize you're about to see it now anyway.

Clearing your throat, you curl your fingers around the waistband of his jeans and underwear all at once and pull it down. If Wooyoung notices how clumsy you are with it, he decides not to comment at least.

And there it is. His dick. A dick, first of all. The first dick you've ever seen in your life that wasn't through the screen while watching a bad porn video.

You don't stop pulling on his pants until they're pooling at his ankles without breaking stare with his...penis. 

You don't really know what you expected if you're being honest. You never thought a dick would be pretty and...it's not exactly ugly either. Just, odd looking you suppose.

You can't tell if it's either big or small as you have nothing to compare it to. Maybe average? What is considered small? You're scared what a big dick looks like if this is a small one. Or even average one. It's kind of thick though which is worrying, you don't even notice the way your lips part as you imagine how exactly is this...thing supposed to fit anywhere inside of you.

There's neatly trimmed hair at the base of it and the tip is flushed, a thick vein running at the underside of it and two-

"Uh," It's like a sound of a scratched record as you freeze, "Your first time seeing a dick or something, Y/L/N?"

Your head slowly lifts from his lap and up to his face where a Jung Wooyoung awaits with raised brows.

It's only then that you realize you've been examining this guy's dick like he was at a doctor's appointment instead of trying to get him off.

You're at a little loss of words to be honest and for a split second you're worried that Jung Wooyoung will take your stutters of "I, uh" and "Um"'s and "Uh, hm"'s the wrong way and think you're impressed by him or something. You're not, once again, you have nothing to compare it to. You barely know what you're looking at right now.

His facial expressions go a little like this in the next twenty seconds: Cockiness (that quickly fades though), Confusion and last but not least Realization.

"Oh my God, it is?!" He laughs in disbelief before his eyes grow even wider and mouth continues to hang open. He quickly places a pillow laying on his bed over his lap, to shield his manhood from the big bad scary virgin apparently, "You're a virgin?!"

It feels like a punch to the gut and you flush a deep red, already scrambling up to your feet and shielding your bare chest. While you try to find that damned crop top, Wooyoung is still rambling in the background.

"There's no way! Wow, seriously you've never had sex before?! Never?! Wow, there's no way! Wait, why are you putting your shoes on-"

You refuse to turn towards him, pathetic tears of embarrassment already welled up in your eyes and bottom lip wobbling, "Uh, I'm gonna go."

"Wait, what? Why?" You hear shuffling behind you and you assume he's trying to get back into his jeans.

You quickly slide your second sneaker on and are flinging the door open, not looking back. "I have to go. I'm sorry, bye."

"Sorry? What are you- Will you just wait a fucking second for me to put my clothes back-" The door falls shut and you're stalking down the hallway of the apartment building, trying to get as far away from his door as you can.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

What were you thinking? Kissing Jung Wooyoung, going home with Jung Wooyoung, doing anything with Jung Wooyoung. What were you thinking?

You cry only a little when you get back to your dorm. Really, it's only a little, just a couple of flimsy tears. 

Then you scrub the makeup from your face and change into your pajamas. Yunjin still isn't back and you're angry at her too, for bringing you to that party in the first place. For leaving you with Jung Wooyoung as well.

You're angry and embarrassed. And on top of that, you're horny too.

Why did Jung Wooyoung have to be such a good kisser? Why did his hands have to feel so nice? Why was he so beautiful?

You huff, buried deep in your sheets and all ready to go to bed but sleep just isn't coming. You're too busy thinking about the guy you've sworn not to think about at all anymore.

It was going so well these last two years.

With another huff, you cover your face with your pillow and scream at the top of your lungs.

He tasted like lemonade.

[count-alucard-tepes]

Headcanons and a short fanfic for Arashiyama Jurota 🤼‍♂️

He owns his own mountain because he doesn’t like living near the city or near too many people that doesn’t mean he doesn’t allow others to live there…it’s just his private property though. He named the mountain Mount Arashiyama.

He loves fishing and often invites Rolon and some of the younger gladiators to stay with him so he can go fishing with them. He likes to teach the younger ones to live off the land. He’s very patient.

He’s really good with children and when he has time, he often visits Judo clubs to train kids. He believes Judo is genderless and everyone should learn, he does not discriminate.

He was married when he was younger but he lost his wife to an illness shortly after marriage. He’s open to marrying again and having children.

He doesn’t smoke but occasionally drinks alcohol.

Taking over a class…

It was a usual day for Arashiyama where he would wake up early, go catch some fish and make some breakfast before doing his morning training. He would receive a call from a Judo center that they would like for him to host a few classes for beginners and of course he agreed. He loved his sport and wanted to share it with anyone who wanted to learn.

He would not take any matches that week so that he would be in his best shape for his soon to be students.

He arrived earlier than the required time and was talking to some of his previous students just to catch up and what not.

“How is the mountain? Must be thriving in this weather”, a familiar colleague asked gently.

“Yes, it’s especially nice in the mornings and evenings…I am planting more fruit trees in hope that they flourish and thrive…”, he said with a small smile. He did love gardening very much and spent a lot of his time taking care of the land and in turn, it took care of him.

“That is amazing, to imagine what the mountain was to what it is now…you truly have made it a sight to behold”, his colleague said with a smile.

Arashiyama smiled and nodded as the students would soon make their way in. He noticed all were young girls and women, aged 5 to 15. It’s been a while since he was teaching such a group but of course he didn’t mind at all, everyone was welcomed to learn Judo if they were willing.

He would be lost in thought for a moment or two when he felt someone tug on his trousers. He looked down with a raised brow to notice a young girl staring up at him.

Naturally, he bent down to her level, “…hello little, everything alright?”, he asked gently.

“…sensei…I’m Sayuri…it’s my first lesson today! “, she said excitedly as she bowed to her instructor, “…I’m going to try my best!”.

Arashiyama couldn’t help but smile at this little child before him, “it is a pleasure to meet you, Sayuri…I am Arashiyama Jurota and it is an honor to be your sensei…I will do my best to teach you well”.

She smiled happily before nodding and quickly running to get her spot as they would get ready for Arashiyama to start his lesson.

“Welcome, students…I am Arashiyama Jurota and I will be your instructor for a few weeks…it is pleasure to be working with you all”, he said gently before bowing to his students who immediately bowed to him too.

“…now…let’s begin “, he said before the lesson commenced.

Once the lesson was over, the students came to say their thanks and goodbyes to Arashiyama along with their parents/grown-ups.

Sayuri would quickly come with her grown-up in tow, “Sensei! Did I do good today?”, she asked with big wide eyes.

Arashiyama crouched down and nodded, “Yes, you did exceedingly well…keep practicing and eat well…and don’t neglect your studies at school “, he said gently.

Sayuri nodded and promised she will before bowing and rushing off.

“I can understand why so many take students now…it is for moments like those, yes?”, he asked one of his colleagues.

“Oh yes, it is a sense of pride you feel once you see them grow…you should become a full time instructor, Arashiyama…you might feel it fulfilling “, his colleague suggested.

“I will see how I feel when I am done with this group…no promises though”, Arashiyama said with a small smile before he went to get changed in his room regular clothes and began to get ready to go home.

He’d stop for some sushi as it’s been a while since he was in town and relaxed, “…maybe becoming an instructor isn’t a bad thing”, he murmured more to him.

What did he have to lose anyway…

[fancyfeathers]

Have you thought about what the children of The light do for work?I feel like Miss Luthor would be someone related to computers or beauty. Mariposa, I'm sure she'd become a professional makeup artist. Vandal Savage's son could be a teacher. There are more, but I can see those three in those jobs.

Burn It All Down Spoilers

I HAVE!

Oh my god thank you for asking.

Okay Miss Luthor is like a tech genius, just like Firewall (the two of them are definitely ending up together). But I imagine that programming becomes her full time job, she does not want to be in the spotlight anymore, she already grew up as Lex Luthor’s daughter, she just wants to be her for the rest of her life, not living in her father’s shadow. Probably gets a job with a foreign tech company so it’s harder to tracker and something she can do from home. Also side note but for some reason in my head I picture Miss Luthor having a similar personality to Lyla from Across the Spider Verse, it just fits in my head.

Mariposa, Queen Bee’s Daughter, she is probably going to university, she was sheltered all her life, hidden away from knowing the world by her mother, it’s best if she knows the world since after all she is the next in line for the throne of Bialya and she has a lot to do if she wants to make up for the things her mother has done but first she needs to learn about the world. She is a political science major, posing as an international student from Bialya’s neighboring country, Qurac, before it eventually gets annexed by Bialya, just another thing Mariposa has to fix when she taken the throne from her mother. Though in the meantime while she is going to University, she’s pick up a job at a fashion boutique alongside her future girlfriend Dreamcatcher.

Nightshade, Deathstroke’s daughter, I think would want to pick up a career in the FBI, a police detective, or a private investigator. Her dad is one of the best assassins in the world and she does not want to associated with him and prove that she is nothing like him, so she wants to make the world a better place and stop murderers, assassins, abusers, and the dirt in their tracks and hopefully make The Light’s job that much harder.

I can’t explain this one and nor do I want to, but Nemesis, Lady Shiva’s son, is one hundred percent a daycare worker, no I will not elaborate.

Starseeker, Vandal Savage’s son, is most definitely a teacher, either a middle school art, music, or english teacher, the kind of teacher who can connect with their students in a way that others can’t. Students who have abusive parents come to him, students who are being bullied, or anyone who has just had a rough day, they all come to him. He was raised by teachers by a boarding school in Austria since that is where his mother left him in order to protect him, he is the type to stand up for the little guy, having the mentality of whoever has power must use it to protect those who do not have a voice.

Scorpio, Prince Orm’s (Ocean Master) daughter, is definitely becoming a swim instructor at a pool club, or a swim coach for a sports team. She was born and raised in Atlantis by a former Prince of Atlantis, she loves the water more than anything and it also wouldn’t take much for her to be hired since she is very obviously a full blooded Atlantian. She also treats all of the girls on her swim team like that one cool aunt that everyone loves. I also love the visual of her volunteering to teach swim lessons over the summer and helping kids get over their fears of the water with Atlantian magic she learned back home.