#at some point when you make these you ask yourself questions like

[solxamber]

Pick Us!

In which you have to choose a club and it looks like everyone wants a piece of you.

You were minding your own business, dodging Grim's increasingly creative ways to get you to buy premium tuna, when Crowley swept in with his usual dramatic flair.

“Ah, my dear pupil!” he exclaimed, arms wide like a bad community theater actor. “To better immerse yourself in school life, you must join a club. It’s mandatory!”

Before you could protest or ask any clarifying questions, he disappeared in a swirl of his cape, leaving you standing there with nothing but Grim’s unsympathetic shrug.

Naturally, this information traveled faster than you could process it, because the next thing you knew, Ace was practically dragging you by the arm across campus.

The Basketball Club

“Alright, listen,” Ace began, spinning a basketball on one finger and grinning like he just invented the sport. “You’re obviously joining the basketball club. It’s the best. I’m here, Floyd’s here, and even Jamil’s here, so really, it’s a no-brainer.”

“Is that supposed to sell it?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Uh, yeah!” he said, tossing the ball toward you. It immediately bounced off your hands and hit the floor. Ace, undeterred, caught it mid-bounce and gave you a wink. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you. I’m, like, super good at this. Just ask him!”

From across the gym, some poor guy—bless his heart—tried to nod in support, but you caught the nervous look he shot Ace instead.

“Okay, sure,” you said, “but isn’t this just an excuse for you to show off?”

“Maybe,” Ace said with zero shame, dribbling the ball dramatically before attempting a layup. The ball bounced off the rim and into Floyd’s waiting hands.

“Shrimpy!” Floyd called, tossing the ball behind his head without looking (and still somehow making the shot). “Join the club. It’ll be fuuuuun.”

You hesitated, because with Floyd, “fun” could mean literally anything. “Define fun,” you said cautiously.

“Simple! You, me, and Ace crushing people in games!” Floyd grinned, leaning closer to you. “And if anyone tries to mess with you, I’ll squish ‘em.”

Ace groaned. “Floyd, you can’t just threaten people into joining.”

“Why not?” Floyd asked, genuinely puzzled.

“Because it’s weird!”

“No, it’s effective,” Floyd countered, shooting you another toothy grin. “C’mon, Shrimpy, you’re already here. I’ll even let you call the plays. Or, you know, not. Whatever.”

“...You’re just bored, aren’t you?”

“Obviously,” Floyd admitted, leaning lazily against the wall. “But hey, if you join, I won’t let Ace hog the ball. Win-win, right?”

And then there was Jamil, who had been sitting silently on the sidelines, observing the chaos with his usual exasperated expression.

“Are they done?” he asked, finally standing and walking over to you.

“I don’t think so,” you replied, watching as Floyd tried to steal the ball from Ace mid-dribble.

Jamil sighed. “Typical.” He glanced at you, his tone cool and measured. “Ignore them. They’re just trying to drag you into their antics.”

“Antics?” Floyd repeated, offended.

“Yeah, Jamil,” Ace added, narrowing his eyes. “What’re you implying?”

“I’m implying you’re both terrible at convincing people,” Jamil said smoothly. He turned back to you. “If you’re interested in joining the club, you’ll actually get something out of it. Physical exercise, teamwork, strategy. And if you stick around, I’ll make sure you’re not stuck with them during practice.”

“Hey!” Ace protested.

Floyd just laughed. “Jamil’s still salty about the last scrimmage.”

“Hardly,” Jamil said, arching an eyebrow. “I’m just pointing out that if you want to learn how to actually play, you’d be better off with me.”

You blinked. “Are you… offering to train me?”

He shrugged, but there was a faint smirk on his face. “If it means saving you from their nonsense, yes.”

All you can do is sigh and say "I'll think about it"

Track and Field Club

You barely made it out of the basketball club’s gym alive when Deuce grabbed your wrist like his life depended on it. His expression was that unique combination of earnest and panicked—classic Deuce.

“Wait, don’t decide yet!” he said, already dragging you down the corridor. “You haven’t even seen the track and field club! You might like it better!”

“Deuce,” you began, trying to keep up without tripping. “I haven’t even—”

“Just come on!”

Before you knew it, you were standing on the edge of the outdoor track, blinking in the sunlight as Deuce shoved you forward like he was presenting a prize to a panel of judges. Jack, in the middle of sprint drills, stopped mid-stride to look over at you. His tail flicked once, and he jogged over with that intimidating mix of focus and curiosity he always had.

“You’re trying to recruit them?” Jack asked, crossing his arms.

Deuce nodded, puffing out his chest like he was making the ultimate sales pitch. “Yeah! Track and field’s way better than basketball. No offense to those guys.”

“I take offense,” you muttered, but neither of them heard.

“Plus,” Deuce continued, “we’ve got variety. Running, jumping, throwing—you can do anything. It’s not just bouncing a ball around, you know?”

Jack nodded in agreement. “It’s good for discipline. Builds strength, endurance, and focus. If you want to improve yourself, this is the place to do it.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, glancing at the track. “And what if I… don’t exactly have focus?”

“That’s fine!” Deuce said, grinning brightly. “We’ll help you! Right, Jack?”

Jack nodded. “Of course. We’ll start with basic drills.” He gave you a once-over, sizing you up. “How’s your stamina?”

“Define… stamina,” you said cautiously, because you had a feeling your answer wasn’t going to impress him.

Jack’s ears twitched, and he leaned slightly closer. “How far can you run without stopping?”

“Uh,” you began, nervously shifting your weight. “To the fridge?”

Jack blinked. “...You’re joking, right?”

Deuce coughed loudly, clapping a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about that! Everyone starts somewhere, right? Besides, they’re here because they want to try something new.”

You stared at Deuce. “I don’t remember saying that.”

“Exactly!” he continued, ignoring you entirely. “Think of how awesome it’d be to have us training you! We’ll get you in the best shape of your life. Right, Jack?”

Jack, who was still mildly horrified by your fridge comment, hesitated. “...Sure.”

Deuce, now fully in salesman mode, gestured to the track like it was some sort of holy land. “And you don’t have to worry about teamwork stuff! You can focus on your personal goals and—”

“Unless you’re in a relay,” Jack interjected.

“Right, but relays are cool!” Deuce added quickly. “Like… team spirit, you know?”

You glanced between the two of them, taking in Jack’s intensity and Deuce’s enthusiasm. They were both staring at you with a mix of hope and determination, and honestly, it was kind of endearing.

“Okay,” you said slowly. “If I join, do I get to skip the first practice?”

“No,” Jack said immediately.

Deuce grinned sheepishly. “But we’ll go easy on you!”

“Jack doesn’t look like he believes that.”

Jack tilted his head, his tail swishing once. “You’ll thank me later.”

“I’m not sure I’ll survive later,” you muttered.

Deuce ignored that, clapping his hands together. “Great! I knew you’d love it here! C’mon, let’s give them a quick demo, Jack!”

Before you could protest, the two of them took off around the track, moving at speeds that made you feel dizzy just watching. Deuce kept glancing back to grin at you, while Jack stayed focused, every stride perfect.

You stood there, bewildered and vaguely impressed, wondering if joining any club was a good idea at all. Still, as Deuce stumbled back toward you, sweaty but grinning like a puppy who just fetched a stick, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Think about it, okay?” he said, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. “We’d love to have you here.”

Jack jogged up beside him, barely winded. “You’ll fit in if you put in the effort.”

“Yeah,” Deuce agreed, nodding earnestly. “So… what do you think?”

You hesitated, glancing at the track, then at them. “…I’ll get back to you.”

Deuce grinned like that was a victory, and Jack just nodded approvingly. As they walked back to their drills, you realized you had yet another club to consider—and these two weren’t going to make it any easier.

Board Game Club

Before you could make your escape—or even fully process the events of the day—your wrist was suddenly seized by Ortho, who zoomed in out of nowhere like a missile with a purpose.

“There you are!” Ortho exclaimed with unsettling cheer. His grip was surprisingly firm for someone who probably didn’t even need to touch you to move you. “Big Brother’s been waiting! Come on!”

“Wait—what? Ortho, where are we—”

“No time for questions!” And just like that, he lifted you into the air like you were a deranged package and he was some kind of express courier. You barely had time to flail before he rocketed off, delivering you with precision to the board game club's headquarters.

You landed with an unceremonious thud, right in front of Idia, who nearly fell out of his chair.

“Ortho!” Idia hissed, his flaming hair flaring. “You can’t just abduct people like that!”

“But you said you wanted them to join!” Ortho chirped. “Mission accomplished!”

Azul, seated calmly at the head of the table, adjusted his glasses and smirked. “Well, well. A delivery service—how efficient. Welcome to the board game club.”

You were still processing the fact that you’d been airmailed when Idia slouched lower in his seat, muttering, “Ugh, so embarrassing. Ortho, seriously…”

“Uh,” you began, brushing yourself off. “Hi?”

Azul gestured grandly to the table in front of him, where an array of meticulously organized board games was displayed like they were ancient treasures. “Here, we focus on strategy, intellect, and the fine art of outwitting your opponent. Unlike other clubs,” he said with a pointed glance at the door, “this one doesn’t require you to break a sweat.”

“That’s actually kind of appealing,” you admitted, still wary.

Idia perked up slightly, his hair flickering a little brighter. “See? I told you it’s cool. I mean, if you like, uh, not running around like some NPC.”

Ortho leaned over, nodding enthusiastically. “And Big Brother’s really good at this stuff! He’s undefeated in our club tournaments!”

“That’s because you’re the only other member who’s not a liability!” Idia blurted, before realizing what he’d just said. “Uh—I mean—you’d totally, like, be an asset. Probably.”

Azul cleared his throat, clearly annoyed at being excluded from the compliment. “Allow me to demonstrate. Why don’t we have a quick match? You against Idia.”

“What?” Idia sat up straight, his hair sparking nervously. “No way! That’s not fair—I can’t just—”

Azul gave him a smile sharp enough to cut glass. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of losing, Idia.”

Idia’s face turned pink. “Fine,” he grumbled, setting up the board. “But don’t blame me if I crush them.”

You sat down reluctantly, realizing too late that this was probably a trap. Idia’s fingers moved at lightning speed as he set up his pieces, muttering calculations under his breath. Ortho leaned over your shoulder, giving you completely useless advice like, “Just believe in yourself!”

To your surprise, you managed to hold your own for the first few turns. Idia glanced up at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were reevaluating your existence.

“Huh,” he murmured. “Not bad. For a newbie.”

“Is that a compliment?” you asked, moving your piece cautiously.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he said quickly, his face turning red again.

Azul chuckled from his spot at the table. “See? A game of wits and strategy. Isn’t this far superior to running laps or throwing balls into hoops?”

“Hey!” you said, pointing your game piece at him. “Don’t diss the other clubs. They’re passionate too!”

Azul raised an eyebrow. “Passion doesn’t win battles. Strategy does.”

The game dragged on, and by the end of it, you were completely out of your depth. Idia, on the other hand, looked like he’d just stepped out of an anime boss fight, his hair flaring dramatically as he made his final move.

“Checkmate,” he said, grinning slightly.

“Wrong game, Big Brother,” Ortho corrected.

“Whatever!” Idia snapped, but he didn’t look too upset. “It’s over, okay?”

Azul leaned forward, smirking again. “So, what do you think? Ready to join?”

You leaned back in your chair, your brain fried from trying to keep up. “I… I need to think about it.”

Ortho beamed. “That means they’re considering it! Success!”

Idia muttered something under his breath about “too much pressure” and “why is this so stressful,” but you caught a tiny flicker of a smile as he fiddled with one of the game pieces.

Azul, ever the businessman, handed you a brochure as you left. “Take your time. But remember—intellect always wins.”

You left the board game club feeling like you’d just survived a high-stakes negotiation. And as Ortho cheerfully waved goodbye, you couldn’t help but wonder if all the clubs were this intense.

Film Studies Club

You were rounding a corner, still recovering from your latest club recruitment ambush, when a perfectly manicured hand shot out and grabbed your wrist.

Before you could even yelp, you found yourself being gracefully pulled into the Film Studies Clubroom by none other than Vil Schoenheit. His strides were purposeful, his posture impeccable, and his expression…well, let’s just say it was the definition of I’m doing you a favor, peasant.

“Vil?” you sputtered, barely managing to keep up. “What are you—”

“I need to vet you,” Vil said simply, his voice calm but leaving no room for argument. “The Film Studies Club could use some fresh blood, and you look… adequate.”

“Adequate?” you echoed, mildly offended but too intrigued to argue further.

He led you to the center of the room, gesturing for you to stand under a perfectly angled spotlight. “Don’t misunderstand,” Vil continued, crossing his arms and regarding you with a critical eye. “I’m merely evaluating your potential. Our club requires both talent and diligence—qualities that, if I’m being honest, are rare in this school.”

“Uh, thanks?”

Vil ignored you, pulling out a script and flipping through it like he was deciding your fate. “If you can’t pass the audition, you can still join as a backstage hand,” he said airily. “We’re short on those too.”

“Wow, what an inspiring pitch,” you muttered, but Vil’s sharp gaze silenced you immediately.

“Read this,” he instructed, handing you the script and gesturing for you to begin.

You hesitated, glancing at the lines. “You’re serious? Right now?”

“Do I look like someone who jokes about art?” Vil asked, raising a perfectly sculpted brow.

Point taken.

Clearing your throat, you started reading, trying to put some effort into it. Vil watched you intently, his expression inscrutable. He occasionally tilted his head, as if mentally dissecting every word you spoke, every movement you made.

When you finished, you looked at him expectantly, waiting for his verdict.

Vil tapped his chin, his eyes narrowing. “You’re not hopeless,” he said finally, in a tone that made it sound like a compliment. “Rough around the edges, yes, but I’ve seen worse.”

“Gee, thanks,” you said dryly.

“Don’t be smug. You’ll need work,” Vil continued, ignoring your tone. “But I suppose you have potential.”

“And if I didn’t?”

Vil gave a delicate shrug, his expression cool. “Then you’d still be useful behind the scenes. But consider this your opportunity to elevate yourself. Being part of my club means striving for excellence—no exceptions.”

You couldn’t help but smirk. “Is this really about me, or are you just desperate for members?”

Vil’s eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of amusement there. “Desperation has nothing to do with it. I’m simply ensuring that my club remains unparalleled. If you happen to benefit from my guidance, so be it.”

“Well, when you put it that way, how can I refuse? I'll think about it.”

Vil’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles. “Smart choice. Now, don’t make me regret it.”

With that, he turned on his heel, leaving you standing there wondering what exactly you’d just signed up for—and if Vil’s idea of “elevating yourself” involved a complete personality overhaul.

Science Club

You barely had time to process Vil's dramatic exit when a familiar voice whispered theatrically, “Ah, my muse! Fate conspires to bring us together!”

Before you could react, Rook Hunt appeared—swooped, really—out of nowhere and expertly whisked you away from the Film Studies Clubroom. It was less like being led and more like being caught mid-flight by an overly enthusiastic bird of prey.

“Rook?!” you yelped as he practically danced you down the hallway. “What is happening?”

“Mon ami,” he declared, his eyes glittering with fervor, “you must see the science club! A world of wonder awaits you!”

“Wait—science?” you echoed, incredulous. “You’re in the science club?”

“Ah, oui! Science is but another stage upon which the beauty of nature and humanity performs its eternal dance! The experiments! The cultivation of life! The creation of culinary masterpieces! All expressions of art, no?”

You weren’t sure if he was describing scientific principles or poetry, but before you could argue, Rook had dragged you into the science clubroom.

The room was a chaotic mix of activities. One corner housed a vibrant garden under grow lights, another had chemistry equipment bubbling away ominously, and a third corner smelled suspiciously like freshly baked bread. Trey Clover stood near a counter, pulling cookies out of an oven as if this were the most normal thing to happen in a science lab.

“Ah, there you are,” Trey greeted, smiling warmly. “Rook said he’d bring someone by. I’m guessing you’re deciding on a club?”

You glanced between Rook, who was already gesturing dramatically at a rack of test tubes, and Trey, who held up a tray of cookies like a peace offering. “I… guess I am?”

“Bien sûr!” Rook exclaimed, sweeping an arm toward the greenery in the corner. “Behold! We grow life itself here! Tomatoes, basil, flowers—anything your heart desires!”

Trey added, “We also bake and cook as part of our activities. It’s a great way to learn about chemistry and make something useful at the same time.”

“And explosions!” Rook chimed in enthusiastically. “Occasionally, there are explosions.”

Trey shot him a look. “Not… intentionally.”

Rook turned back to you, his expression radiant. “Think of the possibilities, mon ami! With science, you can cultivate beauty, create masterpieces, and perhaps even unlock secrets of the universe! And, of course, I am here to guide you—to nurture the artistic soul that dwells within!”

“Also,” Trey added, far more pragmatically, “we’re not picky about what activities you want to try. It’s a flexible club, so you could do a little bit of everything.”

You considered this as Trey handed you a cookie. It was warm and delicious, which admittedly swayed your opinion a little.

“Hmm,” you said thoughtfully, “so I could garden, bake, and blow things up all in one club?”

“Exactly!” Trey said with a smile.

Rook leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a stage whisper. “And think, mon cher—if you hone your talents here, you could support Vil in creating the cinematic beauty he so envisions! Science and art, united in harmony!”

You blinked. “Wait, are you trying to recruit me for this club and help Vil at the same time?”

Rook grinned. “Nature does not limit itself to one purpose, mon ami, and neither do I.”

Trey sighed but didn’t deny it.

“Well, this is definitely… something,” you said, nibbling on the cookie. “I’ll think about it.”

“Ah, a maybe!” Rook clasped his hands together like you’d just promised him your soul. “A victory in itself!”

Before you could say anything else, Rook twirled you toward the door, clearly ready to drag you to your next destination—or possibly just keep talking about “the poetry of chlorophyll” until you gave in.

Pop Music Club

Just as you were beginning to suspect Rook was about to wax poetic about “the lyrical mysteries of yeast fermentation,” a sudden voice interrupted.

“Oh-ho, what’s this?”

Before you could even react, Lilia Vanrouge materialized out of thin air, practically glowing with chaotic energy. “Ah, my dear friend! You’re far too bright a star to waste away on science experiments! Come with me—pop stardom awaits!”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

And just like that, you were swept up in Lilia’s whirlwind. He dragged you down the hallway with a skip in his step and a mischievous laugh, leaving Rook and Trey in his dust.

“Lilia, I can walk, you know!” you said, stumbling to keep up.

“But where’s the drama in that?” Lilia replied, cackling as he pushed open the doors to the Pop Music Clubroom.

Inside, the room was a cacophony of sound and color. Disco lights spun, a half-finished banner reading ‘Next Big Thing!’ hung lopsidedly on the wall, and Kalim was gleefully banging away on a drum like it owed him money. Cater sat cross-legged on the floor, scrolling through his phone and periodically snapping selfies with sparkly filters.

“Oh, hey!” Kalim greeted you, waving so enthusiastically he almost hit himself with the drum stick. “You’re here to join us, right? This club is the best! We have music, dancing, and it’s all just super fun!”

Cater glanced up from his phone, his grin wide and just a little too calculated. “You’d fit right in! Think of all the magicam-worthy moments we could create together. Plus, the followers you’d get? Off the charts.”

“Followers?” you echoed, glancing at Lilia.

“Ah, but of course!” Lilia said, flinging his arms wide as if presenting you to an adoring crowd. “The Pop Music Club isn’t just about music—it’s about presence! Charisma! The ability to captivate a room with a single note or a dazzling smile!”

“It’s also about having a good time!” Kalim added, spinning in a circle for no reason other than sheer joy.

Cater nodded, holding up his phone. “And don’t forget—every moment is a potential viral video. You, me, Lilia, and Kalim as the dream team? We’d own the algorithm.”

You hesitated. “Uh, I don’t even play an instrument.”

“Neither does he!” Lilia said brightly, pointing at some unfortunate bystander.

“Hey!” he protested. “I play the Kalimba!” He promptly tried to play a note, missed the rhythm entirely, and Lilia laughed like it was the funniest thing ever.

“See?” Lilia said, unfazed. “Talent is optional here. All we need is your spirit!”

Cater stood, brushing imaginary dust off his pants. “We also dabble in choreography, so if you’ve got two left feet, don’t worry—we’ll teach you how to make them look intentional.”

“Come on, join us!” Kalim said, grabbing your hands and bouncing up and down like an overexcited puppy. “We could totally use your energy!”

“What energy?” you asked, deadpan. “I’ve been dragged between clubs all day—I barely have any left.”

“Exactly!” Lilia said with a wink. “We’ll channel what’s left into a glorious crescendo of pop music excellence!”

You weren’t sure whether to laugh, cry, or just surrender entirely to the chaos. Lilia’s grin was practically infectious, Kalim’s enthusiasm radiated like the sun, and Cater was already adjusting the angle of his phone to catch you in the best light.

“Well,” you muttered, “at least it sounds… lively.”

“Lively is an understatement,” Cater said, snapping a selfie with you and Lilia in the background. “Hashtag PopStarsInTheMaking! You’re gonna love it here.”

“Let me guess,” you said dryly. “You’re already planning to upload that, aren’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Cater said with a wink.

Lilia clapped his hands, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “So, what do you say? Ready to unleash your inner star?”

“I… will think about it,” you replied, edging toward the door.

“Think fast!” Kalim called after you. “The bass is calling your name!”

You bolted before anyone could shove an instrument into your hands.

Equestrian Club

As you hurried down the hallway, still reeling from the pop music chaos you'd just escaped, you nearly collided with a flash of red.

"Ah, there you are!"

You blinked up at none other than Riddle Rosehearts, who looked as though he'd been scouring the entire school for you. His eyes narrowed, and his voice carried a tone of stern authority mixed with subtle relief.

"I've been looking for you," Riddle said, crossing his arms. "Ace and Deuce mentioned that you’re considering which club to join. As housewarden, it’s my responsibility to ensure you make a proper choice."

You blinked, still processing. "Oh, uh… thanks?"

"Enough dilly-dallying," Riddle said briskly, taking your wrist with surprising firmness. "You're coming with me to the Equestrian Club."

"Wait, what—"

Before you could finish, Riddle had already begun marching you toward the stables. You were half-dragged, half-guided, catching snippets of his lecture along the way about the merits of horseback riding, discipline, and poise.

When you arrived, the warm scent of hay filled the air, and the sound of soft nickering greeted you. The stables were pristine, the horses sleek and well-groomed. Standing nearby were Silver and Sebek, both tending to the horses.

"Riddle, you found them" Silver greeted you with his usual calm demeanor. He gave you a faint smile as he gently brushed a dappled gray mare. "Perfect timing—we were just about to go for a ride."

Sebek, on the other hand, straightened like a soldier at attention, his voice booming. "THEY WILL JOIN US, OF COURSE! IT IS ONLY FITTING FOR AN INDIVIDUAL OF WORTH TO EMBRACE SUCH A NOBLE ART!"

"Sebek, indoor voice," Riddle said sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I AM OUTDOORS!" Sebek retorted, though he did lower his volume slightly.

You glanced nervously at the horses. "Uh, I don’t know if I’m… horse material."

"Nonsense," Riddle said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Riding teaches discipline, focus, and responsibility. It’s the perfect club for fostering growth—and for avoiding unnecessary distractions like some less dignified clubs."

"Pop Music Club?" you guessed.

Riddle sniffed, his expression sour. "Among others."

Silver walked over, still holding the brush, and gave you a reassuring nod. "Don’t worry. The horses are gentle, and we can teach you everything. It’s a peaceful activity once you get used to it."

"Peaceful!" Sebek exclaimed, throwing his arms wide. "It is a pursuit befitting the greatest warriors! EVEN LORD MALLEUS—"

"Sebek," Riddle interrupted, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Focus on the matter at hand."

"Apologies!" Sebek barked, saluting.

Riddle turned back to you, his expression softening just a fraction. "The Equestrian Club isn’t just about riding horses. It’s about elegance, partnership, and understanding. You could benefit greatly from it."

"And the horses are great listeners," Silver added.

"Unlike some humans," Sebek muttered under his breath.

You bit back a laugh as Riddle gave Sebek another glare.

"What do you say?" Riddle asked, stepping aside to let you see one of the horses—a chestnut with a kind, inquisitive gaze. "This is Vorpal. Perhaps a ride would convince you?"

The horse whinnied softly, and for a moment, you considered it. There was something appealing about the tranquility of the stables, the camaraderie of the club members, and the undeniable charm of working with such majestic creatures.

But then you remembered the drum chaos, the science experiments, and Vil’s dramatic vetting process.

"Let me, uh… think about it?" you said, taking a step back.

Riddle sighed, though he looked more exasperated than disappointed. "Very well. But don’t wait too long—indecision is unbecoming."

"Yeah," you mumbled. "Got it."

As you made your escape, you could hear Sebek booming, "RIDING A HORSE WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE!"

You weren’t sure about that, but you were certain that escaping club recruitment was starting to feel like an Olympic sport.

Magift Club

As you staggered away from the stables, thoroughly frazzled by Sebek’s enthusiastic yelling and Riddle’s intense lecture on discipline, you barely had time to catch your breath before—

“Yo, gotcha!”

A pair of hands grabbed your shoulders from behind, and you let out a very undignified yelp. You turned to find Ruggie grinning up at you like a mischievous hyena that had just found its next meal.

“Ruggie! What—?”

“No time for questions, boss,” he said, practically dragging you down the path. “Leona’s orders. He told me to bring ya to the Magift Club.”

“The Magift Club?” you repeated, already sensing disaster.

Ruggie nodded, smirking. “Yup. Let’s go, let’s go!”

“But—wait—I don’t even have magic!” you protested as he hauled you toward the field.

“Details, details,” Ruggie waved off, his grip on your arm firm.

Soon enough, you were dumped unceremoniously on the sidelines of the Magift field. Leona was lounging on the grass under the shade of a tree, looking entirely too comfortable for someone allegedly trying to recruit you. Epel was nearby, aggressively practicing his throws while muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “I’ll show ‘em.”

Leona cracked one eye open lazily as Ruggie dropped you off. “’Bout time,” he drawled.

“Leona,” you said flatly, “why would you want me in the Magift Club? I don't even have magic.”

He yawned, looking entirely unbothered. “Yeah, I know that. You’re still better than the other herbivores running around. You can be the manager.”

“Manager?”

“Yup,” Ruggie chimed in, plopping down next to Leona. “You’d handle all the boring stuff—paperwork, schedules, snacks, makin’ sure Epel doesn’t throw a fit when he gets tackled.”

“I don’t throw fits!” Epel yelled, narrowly missing a hoop with his throw.

Leona smirked. “Sure you don’t.”

You crossed your arms, unconvinced. “Why me, though? You’re telling me I’m the best candidate for this?”

Leona sat up slightly, his sharp eyes locking on yours. “I’m sayin’ you’re the least annoying option. I don’t need some herbivore manager who’s gonna cry every time I take a nap instead of practicing. You’re not useless, so quit whining.”

Ruggie leaned in conspiratorially. “Basically, you’re the only one Leona doesn’t feel like chasing off the field after two days.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like a ringing endorsement.”

Leona shrugged. “Take it or leave it. Makes no difference to me.”

At that moment, Epel ran up, panting slightly from his practice. “C’mon, you should join us!” he urged. “You don’t need magic to be part of the team. And if you ever wanna learn some tricks, I can teach ya!”

Leona gave him a lazy side-eye. “Don’t scare them off.”

“I’m not scarin’ ‘em! I’m convincin’ ‘em!” Epel shot back, glaring at Leona before turning back to you. “Seriously, we could use someone like you. The club’s fun, I promise!”

Ruggie snickered. “Fun’s a stretch. It’s more like… survival of the fittest with a ball involved.”

“And napping,” Leona added with a smirk.

Epel crossed his arms. “Well, maybe if someone practiced instead of nappin’, we’d win more games!”

Leona waved him off with a scoff.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I don’t know, guys. This sounds like a lot of chaos.”

“Chaos is half the fun,” Ruggie said with a grin. “C’mon, boss, think of all the free food we get during games. And you’d get to boss Leona around as the manager. Ain’t that worth it?”

Leona snorted. “Good luck with that.”

You glanced at the trio—Epel brimming with determination, Ruggie radiating mischief, and Leona looking like he didn’t care but also somehow cared just enough to try. It was… weirdly tempting, in its own way.

“I’ll… think about it,” you said finally.

“Fair enough,” Leona said, already reclining again. “Don’t take too long, though. We’ve got a game next week, and I’m not filling out paperwork.”

Ruggie winked. “Don’t worry, you’ll come around. Everyone does.”

As you left the field, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just been almost recruited into something much more taxing than a simple club.

Mountain Lovers Club

Before you could escape the Magift field and all its potential paperwork, you took a sharp turn—only to smack right into what felt like a wall of polite menace. A soft, knowing chuckle sounded above you.

“Oh dear, do be careful,” came Jade Leech’s unmistakably smooth voice.

You took a step back, already dreading the conversation. “Jade,” you said warily, “what are you doing here?”

His sharp smile grew ever so slightly. “Waiting for you, of course. Word travels fast, and I’ve heard you’re in the market for a club.”

“Oh no,” you muttered. “You’re not here to—”

Before you could finish, he was already guiding you away, his hand light on your arm but unyielding, like a vice hidden under a silk glove.

“Come now,” he said, his tone as polite as ever, “I simply must show you the Mountain Lovers Club.”

“The what now?” you asked, bewildered.

“The Mountain Lovers Club,” he repeated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“And… who else is in this club?”

“Why, just me.”

You stopped in your tracks. “It’s just you?”

“Yes.” Jade smiled serenely, as if this were not a glaring red flag. “I am the founder, leader, and sole member. But with your arrival, that could very well change.”

You blinked at him, unsure if you’d misheard. “Wait, so you’ve been running a one-person club this whole time?”

“Indeed.” His expression didn’t falter in the slightest. “The Mountain Lovers Club is dedicated to the appreciation of all things mountainous. Hiking through beautiful terrain, foraging for wild plants, observing unique ecosystems, and—on occasion—befriending the local fauna.”

“Befriending?”

“Examining, petting, observing closely…” His eyes gleamed. “Perhaps all three.”

You shook your head, trying to process. “So… why me?”

Jade clasped his hands together, the picture of poised enthusiasm. “You strike me as someone who appreciates unique experiences. The Mountain Lovers Club offers a chance to explore the great outdoors, expand your horizons, and develop a deeper appreciation for nature’s wonders.”

“And by ‘great outdoors,’ you mean mountains?”

“Precisely.”

“And it’s just you?”

“For now,” he said, his tone warm but his gaze uncomfortably intense. “But every great journey begins with a single step. Yours could be joining this club.”

You gave a nervous laugh. “Uh… I don’t think hiking through mountains is really my thing.”

“Ah, but how do you know unless you try?” Jade’s smile widened. “Besides, I’ll be there to guide you every step of the way. No need to worry about getting lost… or encountering anything unexpected.”

The way he said “unexpected” made you want to run for the hills (ironic, given the circumstances).

“Look, I appreciate the offer, but—”

“I insist,” he cut in smoothly, his tone polite but with a note of finality. “At least allow me to show you the club’s activities. Perhaps a short hike this weekend? I’ve already prepared a route.”

You stared at him. “You’ve already…?”

“Of course.” His gaze was calm, calculating. “Preparation is key. I’ve even packed a lunch.”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Jade, I—”

He tilted his head, his smile remaining perfectly composed. “Surely you wouldn’t refuse without at least giving it a chance? I’ve put so much thought into this.”

“Why do I feel like I don’t have a choice?” you muttered.

Jade’s smile was razor-sharp and utterly unrepentant. “Because you don’t.”

You sighed in defeat. “Fine. One hike.”

“Excellent,” he said, his tone soft and victorious. “I’ll see you this Saturday at dawn.”

“Dawn?!”

“Oh yes,” he said, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. “The mountains are at their most beautiful in the early morning light. You’ll love it.”

As he sauntered away, leaving you to process your fate, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just agreed to something far more treacherous than a simple hike.

Gargoyle Research Society

The moment you finally reached Ramshackle Dorm, exhausted from the whirlwind of club-hopping and increasingly bizarre sales pitches, you let out a long sigh of relief. The day had been nothing short of chaotic, and all you wanted was to collapse onto your creaky old bed and forget the words “club activities” ever existed.

But just as your hand touched the doorknob, a familiar voice, deep and regal, called out from the shadows.

“Child of man.”

You jumped slightly, spinning around to see none other than Malleus Draconia emerging from beneath the pale light of the moon, his presence as imposing and enigmatic as always. He stood by one of Ramshackle’s crumbling stone walls, his expression calm but his eyes bright with an unreadable intensity.

“Oh, Malleus,” you said, your voice tinged with weariness but also a touch of warmth. “Didn’t see you there.”

He tilted his head ever so slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “I was merely admiring the architecture of your dorm. It has a certain… wistful charm.”

You smiled faintly. “I guess that’s one way to put it.”

Then, with the sort of graceful confidence only Malleus could manage, he stepped closer, his presence looming but never threatening. “I have heard,” he began, his tone soft and deliberate, “that you have been seeking a club to join.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard. “How did you—”

“The winds carry whispers,” he said cryptically.

“Right,” you muttered, deciding not to question it.

Malleus folded his hands neatly in front of him, looking every bit the picture of regal sincerity. “If you have not yet made your decision… I would like to invite you to join my club.”

Your brain, still reeling from Jade’s mountain escapades and Leona’s managerial demands, stalled for a moment. “Your… club?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice brimming with quiet pride. “The Gargoyle Research Society.”

“The… what now?”

“The Gargoyle Research Society,” he repeated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I am both its founder and sole member.”

Of course, he was.

Malleus seemed oblivious to your stunned silence as he continued, his expression softening into something almost earnest. “The society is dedicated to the appreciation and study of gargoyles. We explore the campus, observing their intricate designs and marveling at their history. There is so much beauty in their silent watch over us.”

You blinked. “So… you just walk around and look at gargoyles?”

“Precisely,” he said, his tone unironically enthusiastic.

“And… that’s it?”

Malleus nodded solemnly. “Indeed. It is a noble pursuit, one that nurtures both the mind and the spirit.”

For a moment, you were at a loss for words. Of all the clubs you’d encountered today, this might just take the crown for most niche.

Malleus, however, seemed utterly earnest. His eyes bore into yours, his expression sincere and unguarded. “I understand if this does not align with your current interests,” he said, his voice softening. “But should you ever feel the call of the gargoyles… know that you are always welcome.”

There was something so genuine in his tone, so quietly hopeful, that you felt a pang of guilt for even thinking about brushing him off. You sighed, offering him a tired but sincere smile. “You know what? I’ll definitely consider it.”

Malleus’s eyes lit up, his calm demeanor giving way to a flicker of pure joy. “Truly?”

“Truly,” you said, nodding.

“Then I shall look forward to the day you join me,” he said, his voice as soft as a promise.

With that, he gave you a small, graceful bow before disappearing back into the night, leaving you to wonder how you’d managed to end the day not only agreeing to a potential club but also feeling oddly flattered by the idea of studying gargoyles.

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “What a day…”

Masterlist

might do a part 2 where a club is chosen

[covenofagatha]

Sugar, spice, and everything nice (Part 1)

Hot, rich, lawyer Agatha comes into the bakery where you work and she takes quite an interest in you (or Sugar mommy Agatha)

Word count: 2000

Warnings: none yet

A/N: hope you guys like this one!

The bakery is always dead on Sunday afternoons. 

You’re not really sure why, maybe people are getting ready for the week or something, but it seems that in the town of Westview, no one craves sweets on Sundays. 

You’re not complaining, though. That just means you get to sit in an empty store and scroll on your phone and still get paid. 

Working at the bakery part time was a nice way to make some money while you finish up college, and to be honest, you did really like it. Your coworkers were all super nice and it wasn’t a very demanding job either. 

And then the bell on the door rings. You look up from your phone, startled. 

It’s a woman that you’ve never seen before. 

She’s wearing a tight white blouse under a brown blazer and smart gray pants. Her long, dark hair flows freely over one shoulder and her pale skin and blue eyes are striking. She is attractive. 

It doesn’t help that you’ve always had a thing for older women. 

“Hi,” she says, coming to a stop in front of the counter. 

“Hi, what can I get for you today?” You ask the rehearsed question. You wouldn’t be surprised if you said it in your sleep at this point. 

“What do you recommend?” 

You’re not even sure she’s looked at the menu that’s posted above the counter. “Depends on what you like. We have cupcakes, cake, pastries. It’s all good. What are you in the mood for?” 

You might be imagining it, but it really seems like her eyes rake up and down your body. She shrugs noncommittally. “Something fresh, something…sweet.” You swallow hard at the glint of heat in her eyes. 

“I just took a batch of cupcakes out of the oven,” you say. “Do you like red velvet?” 

“Sure, hon. I’ll take three,” she says. You smile wearily and get to work packaging them up. She watches you the whole time. 

You ring up the purchase on the register and clear your throat. “That’ll be $7.50.” She smirks and pulls out her wallet, flipping through bills. She pulls one out and hands it to you and your mouth falls open. 

It's $50.

“Keep the change,” she says with a wink. She grabs the box and walks swiftly out of the bakery. 

You assume it’s a one-time thing and pocket the extra money. You secretly hope she comes back though. 

And sure enough, she struts back in three days later, dressed just as nicely as she was the first time. You’re working the morning shift before your afternoon class and you are sipping on a desperately needed cup of coffee. She must be really rich, you think as she walks up, a smile playing on her lips. 

“Morning, hon,” she says. 

“Good morning, how are you doing today?” 

“Better now,” she replies and you can feel your cheeks getting hotter. “Can I get an espresso and a piece of cinnamon crumb cake?” 

“Of course. Anything else?” 

She raises an eyebrow teasingly like she wants to make a joke but says, “That’s all, dear. Thank you.” 

“Your total comes to $8.75,” you tell her. “For here or to-go?”

“For here, please.”

“I’ll get you the cake and then the coffee will be ready soon.” 

When you turn back with the piece of cake on a plate, she’s holding another $50 bill between her fingers. 

“Oh, I can’t–” She cuts you off by putting it into your uniform shirt pocket and pats it. You freeze with her hand basically touching your boob. She smirks and takes the plate from your hand and goes to sit in a corner booth. You don’t allow yourself to look at her as you make her espresso. 

She’s on her phone when you walk over to her, but she looks up earnestly when you put the cup down in front of her. 

“Here’s your coffee,” you say and you’re turning around to go back behind the counter when she touches your wrist. 

“Why don’t you sit down?” She asks, and it’s clear she’s not asking. And even if she was, she’s tipped you almost more than you make in a day on two separate occasions. You plop down on the other side of the table. “How do you like working here?” 

“Oh, um, it’s nice. I enjoy it. Plus we get dessert for free so can’t complain,” you say, a little surprised by the question. 

“Are you still in college?” 

“Yeah, I’m graduating in the spring.” She nods like she’s deep in thought. “What do you do?” 

“I’m a lawyer,” she answers, confidence oozing from her voice. Her tipping so much makes a lot more sense now. You launch into a series of questions, absolutely fascinated by her words, and she gives you everything you want. 

You’re so engrossed in her stories that you almost miss the bell to the bakery ringing. You suddenly jolt and remember that you’re supposed to be working. 

“Sorry, excuse me,” you say hastily and dart back behind the counter. A man orders a croissant and a coffee and you get his order out quickly. You want to back over to the woman, but you feel like you shouldn’t, especially with the other customer in here now. You can feel her looking at you the whole time though. 

A few minutes later she walks back up to the counter and places her empty coffee cup and plate down. 

“Oh, thank you,” you say, surprised. You usually clean off the tables yourself. 

“Thank you,” she says. Her eyes sweep over your face. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.” 

“I’ll be here,” you joke lamely but she smirks regardless. “I’m y/n.” 

“I know,” she responds, reaching over again to tap on the tag that clearly says your name. You blush furiously and fight the urge to hide your face in your hands. “I’m Agatha.” 

“Nice to meet you, Agatha,” you say, trying out her name on your tongue. You like how it sounds, how it feels. 

“Have a good day, hon.” Before you can tell her to have one too, she’s on her way out of the bakery, the bell announcing her departure. You take a deep breath to calm your racing heart. How is it that she can have this much effect on you after meeting her twice? 

You take the bill from your shirt pocket and put it in the register, collecting the change. Sure she’s rich, but she doesn’t have to be giving you this much money. 

So why is she? 

You spend the rest of the day thinking about Agatha. 

The next day, she comes strolling in at the exact same time. You’re doing some school work on your laptop and you hope you don’t visibly perk up as much as you feel. You wonder if those three days you didn’t see her between the first meeting and yesterday she had come by when you weren't on shift. 

But that’s a crazy thought, because surely she isn’t coming by just to see you. She orders the same thing: an espresso with a piece of cinnamon crumb cake. 

She gives you another crisp $50 bill.

“I know you have money to burn, being a fancy lawyer and all,” you tease. “But please don’t go broke buying coffee and cake.”  

She laughs melodically. “Doll, I’m not just buying coffee and cake, I’m thanking the excellent service.” And once again, she’s made you flush. You inwardly tell yourself that you need to stop letting her have such an effect on you. 

You get her the cake and she goes to sit down at the booth from yesterday and you begin making her coffee. You’re lost in thought, wondering if Agatha will invite you to sit with her again, when your hand shakes as you're pouring coffee from the pot to the cup and splashes onto your hand. 

You gasp loudly and drop the pot. It shatters all over the counter and soaks your laptop. 

“Oh, god, no!” You groan and rush to grab paper towels. You quickly sop up the mess from your laptop and carefully collect the pieces of glass. 

“Everything okay?” Agatha asks and you turn to find her standing at the counter again, a look of worry on her face. 

“Yeah, god, I’m sorry, I accidentally dropped the coffee,” you sputter. You throw the towels away and open up your computer, frantically pressing the power button.

It doesn’t turn on. 

With a defeated sigh, you close it and pinch the bridge of your nose. Of fucking course. You aren’t sure how you’re going to pay for a new laptop. 

“You okay?” Concern laces Agatha’s voice. 

You scoff and shrug. “There could not be a worse time for my computer to break. I have school work that needs to be done – I have an exam to take! And now I have to go find time to go to the store and buy a new one and ugh. It’s just so frustrating.” It feels good to vent and then you realize that you’re talking to basically a complete stranger. You straighten up. “Sorry, let me get a new pot and I’ll have that espresso right up.” 

She waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it, doll. I’ll get it next time.” She winks at you. 

“Next time it’s on the house,” you say. She laughs like it’s some sort of inside joke. Granted, if she keeps tipping like she does, you could buy yourself a new computer in no time. 

You still don’t know why she’s doing it. You open your mouth to say something, maybe ask her what she’s doing here, but she cuts you off. 

“I have to go. I’ll see you later?” She asks, sounding slightly hopeful. 

“You know where I’ll be,” you answer, feeling a longing pang in your chest as her face lights up at your cheesy comment. 

“Sorry about your laptop,” she adds before she sticks another $20 in the tip jar. You gape at her as she smirks and walks out. She is quite literally just throwing cash at you. 

And it doesn’t stop there either. 

You’re just about to finish up your shift when a man walks in, carrying a white plastic bag and a clipboard. 

“Y/n?” He asks, looking at a piece of paper. You affirm and he puts the bag on the counter in front of you. “Sign here, please?” You’re not quite sure what’s happening at all but you do as you’re told. 

Once he walks out of the bakery, you practically tear open the bag to see what’s in it. The first thing you find is a note. 

Hope this will suffice. Let me know if you like it. X, Agatha. And then a number at the bottom. Your mouth drops open and you go back into the bag and pull out a box. You take the top off and inside is a sleek, dark, new MacBook Air. Probably close to a thousand dollars.  

“Holy shit,” you mutter under your breath. You run your hands over the smooth cover and open it up. It blinks to life and you actually laugh out loud. 

Fucking Agatha. You’ve met her three times and she just bought you a brand new computer because you accidentally spilled coffee on yours just that morning. 

Speaking of the older woman. You pull out your phone and type the number into it. 

It’s y/n. Thank you so much for the laptop! You are literally a lifesaver. Is there anything I can do to repay you? I’d give you free coffee and cake for the rest of your life, but I might get fired. Thanks again!  You decide it’s a good mix of gratitude and humor and send it. 

Bubbles immediately appear and you wait with bated breath. 

Finally a response appears and heat courses through your veins. 

Of course, doll, it’s my pleasure. And don’t worry about paying me back just yet. I’m sure we’ll figure something out ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anyone want to be my sugar mommy lol

[natlovesls2]

Never Really Over

Lando Norris x Sainz! Reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚warnings: 18+ MDNI, one bed trope/ forced proximity but barely, slight fake dating, alcohol mentioned/ used, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, small amounts of angst, minimal swearing, talks of marriage and children, please let me know if I missed any

*ੈ✩‧₊˚word count: 3.8k

*ੈ✩‧₊˚summary: You and Lando had broken up though decided it was best that no one knew. Max and Kelly's wedding forces you to come together, making it hard to disguise your true feelings. What can possibly go wrong?

.ೃ࿐request: found here

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚

It was difficult being an open book while simultaneously attempting to hide your break up from not only your brother, but anyone who had been invested in seeing the relationship prosper. More often than not you found yourself having to make up answers to questions pertaining to the subject or switch the topic all together. And even if the news of the breakup did somehow come out, you weren’t sure how you’d explain the situation that led to it. The memories of that night were hazy to say the least. 

You could faintly remember the fuzzy feeling of alcohol and the buzz of music around you that night. There was no doubt that you had been out at some party or club, as you often found yourself at one. Though everything beyond that felt like a badly painted watercolor portrait; the colors, or events in this case, bleeding together into a cruel image of that night. 

“What are you saying?” he asked, voice cracking as he searched your face for an answer. The words coming from your mouth slurred but determined. 

“I’m not an idiot, Lando. What else would you be doing when you go out to celebrate your wins for races I didn't attend?”

“You think I’m cheating on you? This is what this whole thing is about?” his voice raised with slight anger. 

“Yeah,” you raised your voice back at him. You wanted to blame the sudden burst of jealousy completely on the alcohol, but you knew that would be a lie, there had always been an insecure pit in your stomach that had only been growing since you began dating. “You’re an attractive, famous athlete. It would be weird if you weren’t.”

“What's the point of being in a relationship if you can’t trust me?”

“The door is wide open, Lando. No one is holding you here by force,” you hadn’t meant those words, but they couldn’t be taken back. 

“Is that what you want? You want to break up?” you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, let alone answer his question. “Fine,” he whispered, running a hand over his face, pacing around the hotel room, “Alright.”

The only memory that seemed to feel concrete and not muddled by all the drinks of the night prior, was the moment you woke up the following day. The sloppily written note on a receipt from some club letting you know that he had left per your request. And even though he didn’t explicitly say things were over, it wasn’t difficult to understand what the note was implying. Beside the fact that you two no longer interacted as a couple, everything else seemed normal, especially to those who didn’t pry beyond surface level. It was for good reason that you two did this; Carlos would have taken your side regardless of the situation, and you didn’t want to be the root cause of a possible falling out. Maybe that's why you didn’t blame Max and Kelly when they told you that you would be sharing a room with Lando for their wedding. 

You had somehow arrived before Lando, taking that time to unpack and mentally prepare to be in such an intimate space with him after such a long time apart. Things were definitely going to be awkward; you were certain you would have to tell everyone the truth about the status of your relationship. It was becoming increasingly clear to you that lying to everyone hadn’t been the best idea. But telling the truth now, when it had been months of lying, was certain to dampen the vibe of the next few days and put a rift between everyone involved. So as Lando walked into the room you couldn't stop yourself from blurting out your disapproval. 

“We can’t possibly tell them the truth– it would ruin everything, and I refuse to ruin Max and Kelly’s wedding week.” 

He stared blankly at you, shutting the door and placing his suitcase beside it, “Jesus, could you give a man a few seconds. I’ve just barely walked through the door.” You ran a nervous hand through your hair, pacing across the expanse of the room. How could he look so calm about this, you envied how well he played things off. No matter how much things truly affected him, he always had to have an obnoxious nonchalant air to him. “You’re making me dizzy,” he let out a slight chuckle that made your eye twitch.

“I’m sorry for being the only one concerned over this, Lando.” 

“More like paranoid. Relax, there's nothing to be concerned about,” he said with a light shrug, throwing himself onto the only bed. It stuck out like a sore thumb, a reminder of how difficult it would be to ignore him over the next couple of days. 

“What are we going to do about that?” you asked, nodding towards the bed a tense expression plastered on your usually calm face. 

“We’re adults, sharing a bed isn’t a big deal, right?”

“Not a big deal at all,” you agreed, letting out a shaky breath attempting to calm your nerves. He nodded, giving you an awkward smile– the only sign of the emotions he was hiding behind his mask. For a moment you were sure he was just as concerned as you were, if not more.

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

Rehearsal dinners, a momentous event for any wedding. Sure, the actual wedding ceremony and reception are consequential, but the rehearsal dinner sets the tone for those two. Landos presence alone hand you high strung, now add the high stake of this fake commitment you both had. The clamminess of your hands increased tenfold as you sat beside him, occasionally giving a small smile as Lando conversed with those around you. The conversations around you seemed to fade as you focused on the napkin in front of you. Its stark whiteness against the deep colors of the tableware around it making it stand out. It almost felt like the napkin was taunting you, as if saying, “You’re not fooling anyone, you two stand out as much as I do in this sea of real couples.”

“Are you okay?” Carlos asks you from across the table, face etched into a mix of concern and suspicion. Your silence throughout this whole ordeal becoming a clear indicator that something was wrong. 

“Hm?”

“I asked if you're okay,” he repeated, eyes glancing between you and Lando. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you responded with a shaky smile. 

Carlos' eyes narrowed at you, clearly not buying your answer, he seemed to want to say more but hesitated. Lando quickly intercepted the conversation moving on to a topic he could easily control. 

“How much do you want to bet that Max will cry tomorrow?” Lando asked, a playful smirk making its way onto his face, “I say he starts crying as soon as he gets ready for the ceremony.” 

“I bet you’ll cry more at your wedding,” Carlos says smiling at you and Lando, it's clear he's fond of the idea of a wedding between his sister and close friend. 

“Yeah, probably, but we have a few more years until we even start worrying about that,” Lando placed a hand behind your chair, his fingers gently grazing the exposed skin of your back. 

“You didn’t deny the idea of a wedding, does that mean you plan to marry my sister?”

“Let's slow down, mate. I'm not going to deny or admit anything,” Lando let out a laugh, tracing soft shapes onto your shoulder. For once his words and actions didn’t feel forced, as if this were second nature to him. It was almost impossible to tell if he was being truthful in his response or if it was all part of the act. You stared at the half empty glass of wine in front of you, hands moving on their own accord to bring the glass to your lips allowing you to nearly down it all in one go. You were going to need a lot more to drink if you were going to sell the act.

Maybe you had underestimated how much you had to drink or perhaps everything was becoming too hard to control. You felt Landos arm wrap around your waist as he guided you back to your shared room, whispering about something you had done though you didn’t catch what he said and you could hardly remember the rest of the dinner. 

“You’re a lightweight,” Lando sighed as he sat you at the edge of the bed, kneeling down to unstrap your heels. His touch against your bare ankle felt nothing short of electric, something so intense and mind numbing. 

“I’ve missed you,” you drunkenly admit, running your foot against his chest. 

His grip on your ankle tightens in an attempt to hinder your movement, “hm,” he hums out as a response, impulsively lifting your leg up to press a small kiss to the inside of your ankle. The familiar pressure of his lips against your skin erupts your skin in goosebumps. 

“We’re more in love than ever before,” you say, giving Lando one of the most sincere smiles he's seen from you in a while, his grip on your shoulder tightening slightly as you talked to Kelly, “Right, Lando?”

“Absolutely madly in love,” he says, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek. He hadn't expected you to move and plant your lips against his in a sloppy drunk kiss, drawing laughs from those around you. 

His lips continue to travel up your calf, his eyes trained on your face to catch any glimpse of change in your expression. He pushes you down against the bed, hovering over you, “You’re drunk,” he lets out a sigh, resting his head in the crook of our neck. 

“And?”

“We shouldn’t do this while you're drunk– I refuse to do this while you're drunk,” Lando whispers, unsure if he's trying to convince you or himself, “I don’t want you to regret this when you're sober, and it's just wrong.”

You grab his face, pulling him away from his hiding spot in your neck. You stare at him for a while before bringing his face closer to your own, gently meeting your lips in a surprisingly fluid kiss. 

Lando quickly pulls away, standing from his spot on top of you, “No, not while you’re… like that,” he rubs a hand on his face, gesturing frustratedly at you. He grabs a pillow and a sheet from the bed, laying on the decently sized couch in the room deciding it would be better to sleep away from you– considering the state you were in. 

The blinding light coming from the window awoke you the following morning, your pulsating headache the only reminder of the night before. Lando was already awake, still laying on the couch typing away on his phone. He seemed to feel your gaze on him, “How are you feeling?” he asked, sitting up to get a better look at you, his voice filled with slight concern.

“I’ve felt better, can’t remember shit,” you admit, placing a hand on your forehead as if it would do anything to calm the pulsing headache. 

“That's probably for the better,” he stares at you longingly, it's clear that he does remember whatever happened at the rehearsal dinner and your shared room, “we should begin getting ready, we can’t be late to Max and Kellys big day.” You wanted to press him for answers, force him to reveal the source of his distant attitude, but decided against it. Things couldn’t get more tense between you, especially not tonight.

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

The wedding ceremony had been beautiful, Max had indeed cried almost as soon as Kelly began to make her way towards him. And even now as they sat together at the wedding reception you could catch the hint of a happy tear poke its way out of his eyes. 

You felt Landos hand slip around your waist, pulling you closer to his side. He had remained by your side since the wedding ceremony, refusing to leave you for even a second. His actions felt less forced than they had previously felt. And as he leaned in to whisper something in your ear bits and pieces of the day prior began to escape the floodgates of your mind. 

You let out a small giggle as Lando whispered into your ear, “stop it, you’re not acting like yourself. They’ll catch on,” his breath tickling you. 

“I just love you so much,” you whispered back, placing a kiss to the corner of his lips, giggling to yourself like a child. You’d never been big on PDA but in your drunken state you couldn’t seem to keep your hands and lips off of Lando. 

“You too are adorable, as in love as when you first started dating– perhaps even more in love,” Alexandra said from beside Charles, smiling between you and Lando. 

“Our love has definitely grown. We’re going to get married and have kids,” you leaned into Landos touch, your smile widening at Alexandra's words. 

“Okay, you've had way too much to drink– I think it's time to go to bed. We’ll see you guys tomorrow,” Lando announced to the table, shaking his head with a nervous laugh. 

“Oh we’re sure you're gonna go to bed,” Daniel teased, causing the table to erupt in laughter.

“Hey, you okay?” Lando asked, concern written all over his face, his eyes dancing across your face. 

“Yeah.”

“You spaced out, didn’t even react to what I said.”

“What did you say?” you asked, finally snapping out of the memory of the night prior. 

He stared at you, his face still overtaken with concern, “I said, we sold the lie pretty good…” he whispered. If you didn’t know better you'd think he was upset, upset that it was all a show. For a moment he frowned, quickly smiling again, “Lets go dance,” he grabbed your hand, dragging you to the dance floor. 

Lando placed his hands on your hips, pulling you close to him, moving you both to the rhythm of the song. He smiled tenderly at you, and everything began to blur into a confusing mess. You weren’t sure what was real and what was a lie fabricated to convince everyone that you were still madly in love. He played the role of loving boyfriend so well that you were beginning to fall for the charade too, you were starting to believe that he still loved you and had never stopped. 

Your head found its way to his chest, resting there as if it were its official home. The both of you continued to silently sway to the music. The world around you seemed to disappear, almost as if you were the only ones that mattered at that moment. It was confusing how you felt so connected to him yet so far.

 Lando rested his shin atop your head for a moment. He straightened out his back, bringing your dancing to a halt, hand reaching to grasp your chin so that you were staring at him. “Please tell me you’re not faking it,” he whispered, his eyes desperately searching yours, “tell you still love me. That you’ve meant every fleeting touch, every stolen glance, every kiss you’ve given me this weekend… please.”

You weren't sure if it was the alcohol or his words that made the room around you spin, forcing you to grasp onto the jacket of his suit to stabilize yourself. The music you were dancing to just a moment ago now a murmured buzz in your ear. You wanted to be truthful, to admit that you had never stopped loving him and possibly never would. The look of desperation on his face urging you to confess your soul to him. “Of course I love you” you finally said aloud for the first time in months, relief instantly flooding his face. 

Lando cupped your cheek, gently caressing it, a genuine smile spreading across his face. Neither of you had been faking anything, that much was clear as his lips found their place on top of your own. It was gentle, not rushed but relaxed, as if you had until the end of times to relish in each other's presence. He pulled away after a while, letting your lips hover– barely touching, breathing in each other's shaky breaths. “Do you think they’d notice if we left?” he asked, looking around the reception.

“No, everyone is focused on Max and Kelly.”

“Good,” he said, slightly out of breath as he led you towards the exit. You silently thanked Max and Kelly for choosing to have their wedding close to where you were all staying. 

It didn't take you long to get back to your room, instantly finding each other in a heated kiss. Bodies pressing against one another as you desperately tried to get closer, almost as if you wanted to become one. 

“Take this off,” Lando mumbled against your neck as he pulled at the zipper of your dress in a pitiful attempt to help you get undressed. You let the fabric pool on the floor, kicking off your heels, leaving you exposed to his hunger filled eyes. 

“It's not fair that I’m completely naked you’re not,” you complained as he guided you towards the bed, gently pushing you onto it when the back of your knees hit the edge. 

He tossed his suit jacket aside, his fingers attempting to quickly and smoothly unbutton his shirt, “better?” he asked as he was left shirtless. 

You sat up for a moment, your hands working to rid him of his trousers, smiling and resting back on the bed when you finally succeeded, “Much better.”

Lando pressed himself against you, placing kisses down your neck, “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, your hands tangling themselves into his hair as you pulled him up for a kiss. It was much more rushed than the previous kisses had been, his teeth clashing against your own, your tongues pressing against one another. His hands ran up and down the expanse of your body before finding their new home atop your breasts, each one kneading at them. 

You wrapped your hand around his wrist, pulling his hand down towards your pussy, gasping at his thumb rubbed against your clit. He pulled away from your lips, leaving you out of breath, kissing down your body. "Please,” you whispered as he positioned himself between your legs, pressing soft kisses to your thighs. Running his tongue up your slit, wrapping his lips on to your sensitive nub. Lando continued to switch between lapping at your cunt and sucking at your clit– teasing your entrance with his middle finger, slowly pushing it in. Encouraged by your moans and the wet squelching sound coming from between your thighs, he sped up his actions, swallowing at you like a starved man. You pushed against his head, back arching off the bed as your first orgasm of the night washed over you. 

Lando pulled away, smiling up at you, “still know how to get you off,” he said smugly, pressing a quick kiss to your thigh.

“Just shut up and fuck me,” you urged him, pulling him back up, pressing a kiss to his lips. 

“But teasing you is so fun.”

You rolled your eyes, wrapping your legs around him, quickly switching your position so that you were on top of him. “Don’t make me regret this,” you spat on your hand, taking his hard cock in your hand giving it a teasing jerk. 

“Please don’t” he grunted, your finger running against his slit. Your brows drawn together in concentration as you lined him up to your entrance, letting out a shaky breath as sank down onto him. You took a moment to adjust to having him inside you, resting your hand against his chest to steady yourself as you lifted your hips and brought them back down. You let out a shaky breath as you began to ride him, guiding his hands up to your breasts and they bounced with your movement. You had forgotten how full it felt to have him within you– clenching around his cock as he sucked at one of your breasts, rolling the other nipple between his fingers. 

Your pace faltered as you lost yourself in the pleasure, letting out loud gasps as Lando began to thrust up to meet your movements. He wrapped his hand around your hips, bringing them down harder to meet his thrusts. Landos pace increased as your nails dug into his chest, rhythm becoming sloppy as he felt his orgasm approach. “I should probably pull out,” he rasped but made no attempt to do so. 

“It's okay, I'm on birth control,” you breathed out. 

“Shit,” he stilled your movements, spilling inside of you, his fingers finding their way back to your clit in an attempt to pull another orgasm from you. Your head fell into the crook of his neck as you came for a second time. The room around you spinning slightly as you attempted to catch your breath. 

“Do you think they’ve noticed we’re gone?” he asked breathlessly, voice still shaky. 

“Definitely.”

“Should we go back?”

“No,” you respond, lifting yourself off of Lando to lay beside him. You had no desire to redress and mingle at the reception after what had happened. You couldn't trust your feet to carry you for the rest of the night, especially when you still felt the dizzying effects of sex.

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

They had noticed your absence, and they teased you relentlessly about it the few days after the wedding. You had reconciled with Lando, your relationship going back to the way it was before the stupid argument. And with that reconciliation came the confession, in which you confessed to everyone that you had briefly broken up. Although the break up had been entirely your fault, upon hearing the confession Carlos glared at Lando– muttering not so empty threats to him about not hurting you. You were certain he would have strangled Lando if you hadn’t reconciled. 

You smiled up at Lando as you lounged in the living room, resting your head back onto his chest. He placed a lingering kiss on the stop of your head, wrapping his arms around you. This had been your reality since Max and Kellys wedding, pure bliss. You couldn’t experience and explore for one another every waking moment. 

“I could stay like this forever,” Lando whispered into your hair, his grip around you tightening as if he were scared to lose you again. Or as if he thought this were a dream and you'd vanish at any moment with the simple sound of an alarm. But you were real and you weren’t going to lose one another again, you wouldn't allow that. 

“Me too,” you whispered back, “I love you.”

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚

*ੈ✩‧₊˚Note: feel free to request something, Beware: I am slow at posting and have a lot of drafts that are yet to be posted. I'm like running on 4 hours of sleep and celsius, so I apologize for the grammar and spelling mistakes. I didn't do this request justice but I tried (I swear)

[lightseoul]

CHAPTER 2 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 3.8k

tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), some cussing, adult themes (not smut lol) (yet) (jk) (unless...), the mission finally starts, so much plot from here on out y'all so buckle up

a/n. i didn't get to include the most important bits that were supposed to be presented in this chapter because i got carried away with the buildup lol. exciting times ahead y'all. i have so much in store for you with this series. don't be a stranger and let's talk!

links. masterlist, ao3 (coming soon)

You can only stare back at the woman peering at you, her face painted with a thick layer of makeup, her hair styled to staged ‘effortless’ perfection, and her body wrapped in an outfit that’s equal parts provocative and refined.

Her image is so flawlessly curated—so much so that you barely notice the apprehension that’s hidden amidst her features, if it weren’t for the fact that that woman is you.

You can barely recognize yourself—and perhaps that’s the point of all this.

Asahi and Moriyama didn’t have to explicitly state it yesterday—they need you to put in every ounce of effort to make sure that you succeed, and that includes doing everything you can to supplement your quirk all the while keeping your real identity lowkey.

Even if it means looking like this.

You’re about to give in to your second thoughts and change out of the black, low-cut tank and beige cardigan you have on when an array of knocks echo from what you think is your front door, and you freeze.

With a cautious glance at your bedroom’s wall clock, you think you’re supposed to feel a wave of relief wash over you when you see that it’s 9:00 PM on the dot, the exact time Bakugou said he’d pick you up, which means no villain or mal intentioned person is at your front porch, but that doesn’t come.

Instead, the sense of dread that’s been stirring in your gut ever since you got swept by Asahi’s men yesterday only magnifies, leaving you a bit cold and…are you shaking?

You don’t get to dwell on that, though, because another round of rapping resonates from your foyer again, which somehow pulls you out of your nervous stupor. You hurriedly run to the door, not even bothering to check through the peephole, opening it with a turn of the knob to see Bakugou.

Wearing a white face mask and decked in a fitting black hoodie, with his ash-blonde hair peeking through the sides of a dark baseball cap.

His fist is frozen mid-air as he stares at you, eyes slightly widened in shock, as if he didn’t believe you’re capable of this thing called punctuality. He promptly brings it down, though, schooling his expression into a neutral one, but not before giving you a quick once-over.

“Hey,” he offers, voice gruff and way lower than you remembered it back in high school.

“Hello,” you counter, looking back at your messy apartment out of habit. “I’m almost done. I just need to grab my purse.”

And, because you genuinely need to know for the sake of what you’re about to do, you ask: “Do I look okay?”

He must’ve not been anticipating that question, because his eyebrows furrow ever so minutely like you just caught him off guard. “Yeah,” he eventually replies after studying the entire length of your body once again.

And, you may have just imagined it, but you swear to god his eyes linger on your chest for a beat longer than necessary before he meets your gaze.

“You clean up…” he pauses, like he’s grasping for the right adjective, before settling with: “…decent.”

At that, you feel yourself deflate a bit. Maybe you wanted a more affirming answer, definitely not because you want that from him, but because you need to look good. However, if there’s anything the rumor mill told you back when you were still teenage students, it’s that Bakugou Katsuki was a man of few words when he was serious, let alone appreciative, so you take his comment in stride.

Besides, in comparison to how you looked yesterday, anything is an improvement, really.

“Thanks,” you respond, and you debate for a second whether or not to say the next thing but ultimately decide on it. “…And you look mildly disguised.”

That seems to ruffle Bakugou’s feathers. “Mildly?”

You shrug, suddenly feeling unsure about your honesty. “I get the hoodie and the cap and the face mask, but there’s no hiding your hulking frame, man.”

And really, there isn’t. How are you supposed to conceal a torso as large as that?

You gesture to his chest and shoulder area for further emphasis. “I don’t think you can pass up as a regular citizen but like as a non-descript athlete, maybe?”

To your dismay, Bakugou merely grunts before shaking his head. “This’ll work.”

Apparently already over your suggestion, he glances past your shoulder as he shifts his weight on his other foot. “Can you grab your purse now? We’ve to get going.”

Now, you’ve got half a mind to argue and try to convince him that maybe going for a better disguise is better in the long run but you’re silenced by his domineering gaze. So instead, you nod before rushing back to your bedroom and grabbing the bag you already prepared beforehand, as well as your phone that’s charging on top of your bedside table.

Although it won’t be of much use later, or in the coming few weeks, if everything goes according to plan.

“Ready?” he asks when you return to the doorway with your things in tow.

“Yup,” you retort as you lock the door behind you, and just like that, you’re well on your way to a potential death sentence.

You’re in the elevator going down to the ground floor by the time he speaks up again. “We’re commuting,” he starts, not looking at you but instead scrutinizing the barely hanging on floor buttons. “Can’t risk raising suspicion by driving there.”

“Where are we going, exactly?” you ask just as the elevator dings, signifying your arrival.

The doors burst open, and he steps out. “You’ll see.”

The commute to wherever the hell it is you two are going is quiet.

Bakugou didn’t divulge any further details as you stepped out of your building, wordlessly ordering you with a stern look to just follow. Frankly, you don’t like how you’re being kept in the dark, but you don’t contend. You’re acutely aware that you have a limited number of cards to play with Bakugou, and you have to play them right, if you want to even survive this mission without your partnership falling apart and jeopardizing the entire thing. Wasting a card on stupid information would be downright foolish on your end.

Even the walk to the bus stop is silent, and so is the entire ride. Despite it being quite late into the evening, the vehicle is still somewhat crowded, which you chalk up to it being a Friday night. You find yourself relaxing in your seat as the realization dawns on you—perhaps there was no point in getting too riled up about getting noticed.

And besides, you’re taking extra precautions, too. You’re not sitting next to each other, because he’s trying to stave off attention while you’re straining to catch it. Maybe not of these strangers, but of the people you’re going to meet later on.

Roughly 10 minutes and a short subway ride later, you climb up the underground stairs to a stop you vaguely remember hearing from your coworkers about. You recall how she described an old party district right in the middle of Musutafu, and sure enough, the text on the street signs match the name she recounted during one of your lunch breaks.

“Over here,” Bakugou calls out from a few feet ahead of you. You quickly quit your observing and follow suit, mindful of keeping an appropriate, not at all questionable distance between the two of you.

After what felt like walking five blocks from the subway, you see Bakugou halt and make a left into a poorly lit alleyway. You hesitate for a second, having been on autopilot and going straight for the last how many minutes. You’re able to swiftly gather yourself, though, steering in the same direction.

The moment that you do, it instantly registers to you that you’re not just in the party district anymore. If the dingy signages and the palpable seediness of the alley are any indication, you’re most likely in the red-light district now.

Suddenly, everything feels a bit too real, and you barely catch yourself stumbling back on your feet. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Bakugou, who instinctively moves to reach out for you from where he’s standing. He pauses, though, when you’re able to regain your bearings with a slightly embarrassed smile.

“Sorry,” you offer meekly.

He eyes you with the very same inexplicable expression from before. “You good?”

You’re not about to tell him you’re scared shitless, so you give him a half-hearted nod. Turning to study the exterior of the small building, you take in the lightly peeling paint and the booming music emanating from it. “This the place?”

“Yes,” he answers without missing a beat. “Are you sure you’re good?”

You whip to look back at Bakugou, who, if you didn’t know any better, is now looking apprehensive.

You decide then and there that you have to get your shit together.

Bravery is contagious, but so is fear.

For a second, you contemplate using your quirk on yourself to calm your nerves down, but eventually decide against it. There are much bigger fish to fry tonight, and what’s the point of learning all those damned breathing and grounding techniques if you’re not going to use them?

“I’m ready,” you finally tell him after a moment of both of you standing there. “Let’s go in before we start looking unusual out here.”

If Bakugou notices the unease you’re sure you’re radiating, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he gives you a curt nod, before turning to open the door.

And when he does, you’re almost instantaneously flooded by the music that was just escaping through the cracks and crevices of the run-down building. You fight the instinct to cover your ears as you step into the large room behind Bakugou, eyes quickly darting all over the place to drink in the scene before you.

Right in the back of the space is a stage that extends in the center as a runway to the middle of the room. The orange and pink mood lights illuminating the area are relatively dim minus the bulbs lining the set and walkway. And, beneath the elevated platform are what have to be pleather seats littered all over the floor—all of which are occupied by decidedly rambunctious men.

You resist the urge to wrinkle your nose as their boisterous laughter fills your ears, opting to face Bakugou instead.

“Hey,” you call out to him, who stops in his tracks to look at you. You sneak a glance at the people at the bar nearest the two of you, just to make sure they’re not listening in, before you continue. “Are you sure this is the place?”

You don’t have to peek beneath his mask to know he’s now scowling at you.

“What am I, a dumbass? I told you, this is it.” He then shifts away from you, far enough that you barely hear his next words. “…It has to be.”

Well.

That’s not exactly comforting.

Your discomfort only heightens when the already faint lights dim further, and the music switches from a pop song to which you know a bit of the lyrics to a rap that, if you were to base it on the first phrase, is all about having explicit, unprotected sex. The crowd of men cheers in anticipation, and as if on cue, a woman dressed in nothing but a two-piece lingerie emerges from the back of the stage, confirming your speculation of what the place is.

A strip club.

You watch as the woman confidently struts towards the center, and apparently, you’re no better than any of the men here because your gaze slowly roves over her slim and toned body, eyes catching at her cleavage that’s leaving nothing to the imagination. You can’t help it—you look down at your own chest, sinking in disappointment at the contrast before promptly looking up in embarrassment, only to find Bakugou studying you closely.

“It’s a strip club,” you blurt out, flustered at getting caught in the act. His eyes only narrow in a way that tells you what you’re already telling yourself: Thank you, Captain Obvious.

Bakugou doesn’t say anything, much to your relief, only moving to the far corner of the room where there are miraculously two seats unoccupied. You follow him with no further questions asked, plopping in the chair to his right, thankful you’re wearing black trousers so that your skin doesn’t have to go into contact with the sticky furniture.

You take the opportunity to clock the rest of the room, cataloguing the bar at the other end of the area near the entrance where a barista is swiftly taking and making orders all at the same time, while the men seated on the stools struggle to decide whether to look at the man or at the stripper now performing an elaborate dance around the pole. Amidst the decorated wall adjacent to the bar is a door with a restroom sign on it, and you squint just enough to see it’s only one stall for everyone. You make a mental note to hold in your pee, at least until you get out of here.

And, because you’re feeling nice, you shift to regard Bakugou with a good-natured smile on your face. “I hope you peed right before leaving your house.”

“What?” he says loud enough for you to hear him over the noise they’re calling music. “I can’t hear you.”

“Shit, right.” You lean in ever so minutely, and Bakugou mirrors you. You try to ignore the new-found proximity. “I said,” you repeat, with a little more volume this time, “I hope you peed right before fetching me. I bet the toilet’s filthy as shit.”

To your delight, not that you’d admit that to him in this lifetime, Bakugou smirks at your little quip after confirming the lone comfort room with his own eyes.

“Don’t worry about me, princess,” he starts, and you stiffen at the nickname, “I’m not the one who has to sit on one.”

You’re about to retort with something along the lines of what if he has to poop out of the blue, or at least try to, because the pet name has you gagged against your better judgment, when a ridiculously tall man clad in all black appears out of nowhere, startling you.

“The f—”

“Dynamight,” the behemoth of a guy cuts you off, eyes trained on the pro-hero beside you and completely ignoring your presence. “We’ve been expecting you.”

“Took you long enough to approach me,” Bakugou sneers, oozing with the confidence you can’t find within yourself right now. “I hate sleazy places like this.”

To that, the man only bows his head slightly, face solemn but devoid of remorse. You watch him as his eyes finally drift to you, albeit for only a split second, before looking back at Bakugou. “Follow me, sir.”

The ash blonde does so, perhaps a tiny bit begrudgingly, and you speedily get up along with him. The two men turn to move, and you’re about to take a step closer towards their direction when a long arm shoots up in front of you, keeping you in place.

Any protests die in your throat when you look up and see the guy’s menacing glare.

“If you don’t mind,” he grits through his teeth, “Only Dynamight is needed.”

“She’s with me,” comes Bakugou’s commanding tone. You chance a glance at the pro-hero, whose countenance is so serious you’d be afraid if you were the one he’s talking to.

“But, sir—”

“It’s the two of us or we’re leaving,” Bakugou demands.

The two engage in a stare down which you witness for what feels like a few minutes before the man finally looks away, frustration etched across his intimidating features. He glares at you once more, as if you’re the one who’s insisting on being Bakugou’s plus one, and you’re about to be convinced that he’s mentally chanting a spell to make you disappear when he gestures for you to follow him with a flick of a head.

You gradually release the breath you didn’t know you were holding as you shadow them as they enter one of the doors on the wall perpendicular to where you were just stationed. It leads to a staircase that swerves in the middle, and you lock eyes with Bakugou as he makes the turn ahead of you. Neither of you says a word, opting to keep on trailing the man, even as you land on the second floor, which looks more and more like a prostitution den.

Once again, your conjecture is confirmed as you walk down the hallway and past several sets of doors on both sides, from which emanate a cacophony of sensual moans and groans. You wonder what Bakugou’s thinking right now, although you can’t get a read on him as you can only observe his backside.

Finally, after what seems like a tortuous eternity, the man stops right in front of the door at the end of the hallway, and you pause right behind him.

He looks back at Bakugou and you with what you’re pretty sure is caution, before knocking on the door twice, and then another two times but in rapid succession.

“Come in,” is what the muffled voice on the other side says.

And so you do.

You’re not entirely sure what you were expecting, because you’ve never actually been in a service room before, but you at least anticipated a bed on which certain…activities can be done.

But what you’re met with instead seems to be a refurbished lounge room with floor-to-ceiling brick walls, black and red quilted couches, and a bar at the far side all lit up with moody orange lighting.

And smack dab in the middle of it—sprawled so languidly all over the furniture—are three individuals.

Three individuals who immediately look at Bakugou.

It’s them, alright. You don’t need your extensive training in reading people to know that these are the ones you came all the way here for.

You quickly take note of their appearances. The seemingly old man who has to be in his late 50s is seated—quite relaxed—in one of the scarlet solo chairs. He’s slim, bordering on frail, but the glint in his eye as he peers at Bakugou tells you that it’d be unwise to rule him out as one of your main threats.

Juxtaposing his age which is further revealed by his shoulder-length salt and pepper hair is the young woman plastered on the couch adjacent to his.

Or maybe ‘woman’ is a bit too generous…

It’s not obvious at first glance, but you immediately notice how some of her body parts appear to be outright robotic in the literal sense. Perhaps it’s her long, pin-straight, jet-black hair that softens her entire look, but there’s no mistaking what seems to be an artificial left eye, a metallic right arm, and angled, silver lips. She’s wearing long pants so there’s no telling which other parts of her are made up of what you think is steel, but the ones visible to you already tell you enough.

And then there’s the third and last man, who, in comparison to the other two, is remarkably…plain.

There isn’t an air of age-induced wisdom around him, nor is there anything peculiar about his body. He looks like just about any other 40-year-old-ish Japanese man you know, with short black hair, an unassuming face, and semi-formal clothes that are quite loose on his not-buff but not exactly thin body either.

But to your surprise, it’s him that the hilariously huge guy from earlier directly reports to.

“Pro-hero Dynamight, sir, as you requested. And…” the ‘escort’ trails off, and for a split second, you feel kind of sorry you’re here and making things complicated for him. “…he brought company.”

“Finally,” the plain-looking man pipes up from his seat, and even his voice is generic. “And here we thought you were never going to come meet us.”

Placing what suspiciously looks like a glass of whiskey on the table in front of him, the man shifts to fully regard Bakugou. “I see that you’ve deciphered the messages we’ve been sending you?”

“No shit,” comes Bakugou’s blunt response, and for a beat, you seriously consider using your quirk on him to make him calm the fuck down.

You decide against it.

To your chagrin, he drones on. “Y’all gotta do better. That was barely even a code.”

At that, the old male barks out a laugh while the plain-looking man only chuckles. “Of course, we expect nothing less from the #2 pro-hero. But…” the latter trails off, eyes finally landing on you. You quickly put on the most endearing smile you can muster, suddenly regretting not touching up your makeup upon sitting earlier. Thankfully, though, he smiles back, before redirecting his focus back on Bakugou.

“I see you brought precious cargo. Is there any reason why she’s here with us?”

“We want in your organization,” Bakugou replies without hesitation. “The both of us.”

And when none of them say anything in response, Bakugou presses.

“You need me, right? I heard you’re planning an attack. I want to join.”

“Yes,” the old man finally speaks up, not even denying it yet his voice is riddled with misplaced humor. “We do, in fact, need you. But what use do we have of this girl?”

“She’s got a useful quirk,” Bakugou supplies, before turning to look at you and then back at them. “Luck. She boosts the success rate of anyone she works with.”

“Luck?” the old geezer says back so incredulously, you feel your eye twitch in annoyance. If he only knew what you were fully capable of. He can’t, though, if you want to get out of this entire situation alive. “I don’t think we’ll need that as long as we have you, boy.”

“Well, tough luck,” spews Bakugou, a little bit too sarcastically for your comfort. “Because, as I’ve told your little lackey here,” he gestures to the definitely not little guy from earlier, “It’s both of us or I’m out.”

“The both of you, huh?” muses the plain-looking man who’s seeming to be more and more like the leader of the group by the second.

Once again, silence envelopes the room when none of them utter a single word, with you and Bakugou watching in anxious (you) and impatient (him) anticipation. You observe their facial expressions as they have a wordless exchange, and judging by how the ancient and the robotic girl are looking at the ordinary man, you guess your hunch about him is right.

Eventually, they appear to reach an agreement, and the leader adjusts just enough to look at the both of you directly.

You brace yourself with bated breath.

He flashes you a modest smile.

“It’s a deal, then.”

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru @yoongiwithglasses | @junehasnotbeenfound @sugalarity @haechansbbg @sikuthealien @reiniella3 @ita606 @xoxoblueyy @mutsu422 @eyesforbkg @kalulakunundrum @venus-xxoo @lemuhr @pinkpantheris @ashers-playpen @bakugouswh0r3 @certaindreampost @3ve88 @tsumuus @4acoffee @anonymity-222 @lousypotatoes | @matchat3a @harryzcherry @h0nestly-though @cc1306 @gold24fish @bakukags @zennypiee @wannabewolf @kameko-ko @lovra974 @arc6021 @kooromin @surprisemodafakas @ilovedenk-i @st4ntwic3 @j1tterbugaboo @call-memissbrightside @arael-asuka @bakugosgothhoe

[komoriiis]

May i pls request fem!reader x sevika? I've been fallen for her since 3 years ago and after her scenes in ep 2 i was so in awe and giddy i need to read more of her 😭🤲

𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐊𝐀 ( 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐄 ) — 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐂𝐒

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ 𝖕𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝖙𝖞𝖕𝖊 :: bullet points / short drabble

˚ ୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝐤𝖔𝖗𝖎 :: im absolutely in love with sevika too so this was really good timing!! ive been wanting to write for her and viktor for the longest time :3 i hope youre okay with me doing general hcs, i didnt know if you wanted anything specific so i just did this 😋 also, sorry if she turned out ooc, this is my first time writing for arcane characters 😓

[ masterlists ]

ᥫ᭡ sevika will be the most protective gf ever—anywhere you go, she’ll always be 2 steps behind looking out for you!

ᥫ᭡ its not that she doesn’t think you can take care of yourself, but its just who she is. she gets worried, especially if you’re wandering around in the undercity

ᥫ᭡ she will 100% be your biggest hype woman. whenever you wear something new for date night, you can see her pupils dilating when looking at you with a small smirk on her face

ᥫ᭡ rather than hand holding i think she would be someone to wrap her arms around your waist, almost possessive in a way. when shes not doing that though, she would want you to have a hand holding onto her biceps

ᥫ᭡ will never ever let you tag along with anything work related. shes pretty dead set on separating you with her dirty work, for your safety

ᥫ᭡ some nights when it gets bad, she just wants you to hold her. don’t say anything. don’t ask her questions. just be with her until the next morning

ᥫ᭡ she loves to bring you back little trinkets or accessories from her missions that she thinks you’ll like / will look good on you. she would never admit it, but her heart always skips a beat when she sees you wearing something that she got for you herself

ᥫ᭡ lives for teasing/banter arguments. she finds it so hot when youre all riled up and mad at her, because she knows that she’ll make it up to you later anyways ( WHAAAT 😦 )

ᥫ᭡ she has insane mood swings on her period. one time, she accidentally snapped at you while you were trying to tell her about your day, and she felt so incredibly shitty for like 2 months

ᥫ᭡ sometimes, she gets nightmares of you dying in her arms due to an enforcer attack. its a reoccurring dream, and whenever she jolts awake in a cold sweat, you reassure her that you’re still there. you’re alive, and you’re not going anywhere anytime soon.

ᥫ᭡ sevika finds it adorable when you give her little nicknames. “vika”, “sevi” , “baby” , and “big mama” ( hehe ) are her favorites

ᥫ᭡ tries to have a date night at least once every two weeks. of course she would like it if it happened more often, but with her schedule its just not possible. when you two do go on dates though, she makes sure to go all out and make it the most enjoyable experience for you

ᥫ᭡ her coworkers are so surprised at how soft she has gotten because of you. she has something to fight for other than zaun now, and once they get their promised land then she’ll finally settle down with you and live through the rest with you by her side

𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 © 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐢𝐢𝐬. 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 !

[soleilapproves]

You dream about a nameless and faceless man making you see stars in the darkness of your room (Ghost x reader) NSFW

Notes: dubcon-ish, fem!reader

main masterlist

Droplets of rain hit your window with a velocity that would make one think that you were tapping your fingers at a fast pace against the glass. You sighed as you cleared out the books from your shelf and begrudgingly placed them on your desk for some routine dusting.

Chores were not your favorite spare time activity but what else could you do? Your plans to go on a picnic with your friends had been cancelled by the rain and sitting in your bed for hours on end made you feel agitated.

You had switched out your normal neon white lights for a warm yellow one. Your singular long floor lamp dimly brightened the whole room in contrast to the darkness outside. Your laptop played an old romance movie from the 1950s.

You didn’t even enjoy content from old Hollywood. You just liked the sound of the crisp trans-Atlantic accent with occasional jazz music in the background. Perfect ambience for a quiet night in.

Well, the night would’ve stayed quiet for longer if thunder hadn’t struck right when Audrey Hepburn began to belt out her high note in Show Me.

You yelp as you drop your duster, coughing as the dust particles float into the air and attack your nose. “Blasted lightening,” you mumbled to yourself as you leaned down to grab the duster from the ground.

You thought your vision was giving out on you again. You had passed from low blood sugar before and the symptoms often occurred when you bent down too quick. However, it was because your lamp began to flicker.

You looked towards your laptop and it suddenly became the only source of light in your room. You sighed as you reached towards the outlet. The light that indicated if it was on or not was dull. “Blasted lightening.” You muttered for the second time.

You got up to get your flashlight from the bed side table but as you were about to turn around, you felt two hands firmly grip your waist on either sides.

Your blood ran cold. You were the only person at home. Granted, that your abode wasn’t a fortress, but you always double locked your door and had a Doberman that was an ode of tyranny to anyone but you.

“Who are you?” His grip on your waist tightened at your question. He pulled you into his chest, ass pressed against his tented front. Something about him smelled familiar but you couldn’t point it out.

‘Anyone who’s been in love will tell you that this is no time for a chat!’

Audrey Hepburn’s voice sounded eerily excited. Almost like she was encouraging what was going in your room.

“What are you doing?” You asked again, fearful.

A large calloused hand grabbed your chin and stroked its rough fingers down your neck, to the center of your clothed chest, and finally stopped right where your diaphragm would be. “Shhh.” He leaned down and whispered in your ear.

You whimpered as slotted his knee between your legs and pushed your pelvis onto your table. “Please, leave me alone or I’ll call the police.” You weren’t sobbing but you sure were on the verge of it.

“You won’t need to once I’m inside you.” His voice felt like grainy and rough gravel after rain. His other hand that was situated on your waist began to bunch of up your flimsy night grown around your waist, however, the slinky material made it hard for it to stay in one place so he let out a growl of frustration before ripping it into pieces.

You gasped as he pressed his clothed centre to your almost bare ass once again. “Please, let me go.” You don’t hold back from crying this time so you could at least appeal to the mystery man’s humanity.

He turned you around, and you were grateful that you could finally try and put a face to your violator.

The dimness of the room didn’t do much but show you that he was wearing a balaclava and had blue eyes. Almost like they were glowing. Like he wanted you to only see them and nothing else. The sense of familiarity while gazed at them returned and you quit sobbing for a moment.

The masked man took that as consent and carried you to your bed, surprisingly being gentle while laying you down. You opened your mouth to plead once again but he was quick to pull up the bottom of his balaclava and slot his lips against yours.

‘Haven’t your lips longed for my touch. Don’t say how much. Show me, show me.’

You had never kissed such chapped lips before but the way your lips moved against his made you feel like you had done this a thousand times before. His hands began to explore your body, gently squeezing you in places where only you knew how sensitive you were.

Before you knew it, your tongue began to lick his bottom lip every time his lips met yours, teasing him. His breathing quickened and he snarled, pulling your chin down with his rough thumb and shoving his tongue in your mouth.

This was unlike you. You’re not someone who makes out with strange men!

But you couldn’t help but moan into his mouth as his hands rubbed your slit through your wet panties. Between kisses, you huffed out a small “stop” but you both knew that you were saying the opposite of what you wanted.

His kisses began to become sloppier. His lips chaffed against the apples of your cheeks as you huffed and puffed with every stroke of his fingers, slowly pushing the gusset of your panties between your slit.

“At least take them off, you oaf.” You grunted pushing his hand out of the way and then placing them back in the same spot after removing the piece of clothing.

The man let out a sarcastic chuckle before plunging two fingers, knuckle deep, into you. Your neck stretched as your head leaned back, almost showing you the wall behind your head in your field of vision.

The still clothed man began to litter kisses on your neck, sucking on certain spots while nipping on others. He ended up biting one spot too hard and you let out a whine. This compelled him to rock himself against you.

It was filthy. Your fan was off because the electricity had gone out so the room was engulfed in a sweaty dew of sex. Your hair was a mess from all the rubbing against your pillow and you had a total stranger using your body as he pleased.

‘Sing me no song, read me no rhyme, don’t waste my time. Show me!’

Your moans grew louder as you were about to reach your climax but the man pulled his fingers out. You let out an angry groan. “You wanted this! Why’d you stop?” Your breathing was quite heavy as you grabbed on to his hand to plunge his wet fingers back into you again.

However, his arm was rigid. “Don’t tell me what to do.” He mumbled before flipping you over. “Ah!”

You heard the sound of clothes falling to the ground before you felt the entirety of your back being covered by the blanket of naked human warmth. He had managed to place his tip right in front of your entrance. “Any last words?” The man joked.

“You’re going to be speaking your last words if you don’t do as I- gosh!” You let out a loud moan as he thrust into you with no warning.

It was all too much. The constant thrusting, the music in the background that didn’t make the atmosphere the least bit sexual, his breath against your neck and your face rubbing against your silk pillow.

He pulled you onto your side and began rubbing your clit with every thrust. Your breathing grew fast with every stroke and thrust while he quit his nonchalant home invader act and began to moan louder and louder into your hair.

You closed your eyes tightly to brace yourself for your orgasm but it never came. Frustrated, you opened your eyes, to see your worried boyfriend, Simon, staring back at you.

“You alrigh’? You were breathin’ really hard and sweating. Thought you had a nightmare.” You were embarrassed over his concern.

Here he was, staring at you, all troubled and confused, while you had a dream about having sex with a faceless man. A home invader of all people too.

“It was just a disturbingly vivid dream.”

‘Haven’t your arms hungered for mine? Please don’t explain, show me!’

Your head turned towards the tv as Audrey continued to sing. You remembered playing one of her movies before accidentally falling asleep.

“You look out of it. Need me to help you with anything?” Simon said as he stared at your dazed expression.

You were about to tell your sweet boyfriend to not be too concerned but then you paused.

The man was wearing a balaclava. Your boyfriend owned a balaclava.

It was raining outside in your dream. It’s raining outside at the moment.

You were wet. And you’re still wet.

“Honey, could you go get your balaclava.” Your saccharine voice asked him.

“Why?” Your still confused lover asked, wondering how the piece of cloth could possibly be useful to you.

“I want to makeout with you while it’s on.”

“Ah, so it was that kind of dream.” The dirt blond said as he walked towards his side of the closet. You let out a hum in agreement.

By now, Audrey had begun singing against her costars face.

Your boyfriend returned with his classic skull balaclava on and you playfully gestured him to come closer with your fingers. Your man did as you asked and leaned over you in all his muscled glory.

But before you could pull him in for a kiss he went on to grab the remote to switch off the tv. You gently grasped his hand before he could do so.

“No, leave it on.”

—

I had a super vivid dream during my post-orgasm nap. It felt so realistic that it scared me.

[sturnsrecord]

CLIMB THROUGH MY WINDOW

— [fuckboy!chris x smart!reader. making out, dry humping, dj on the vj, wanking]. you can’t help but let chris in every time he comes knocking at your window.

ʚ part two ɞ — ʚ part three ɞ

it wasn’t like you were proud of the little situation you had gotten yourself into, messing around with the schools biggest fuck boy wasn’t exactly your greatest accomplishment, nor was it on brand for you. besides, accomplishment was a big word considering how many other girls had also accomplished just about the same thing.

you were the typical ‘head in a book’ type of girl, always focussed on your grades and making sure you were making your parents proud. a boy climbing through your window at 11.30 at night wasn’t exactly something you would’ve expected in your life. at any point.

“your house is a fucking pain to get into.” chris huffs, climbing into your room clumsily.

“maybe that's because you're climbing up a two story building, and using a window.” you retort from your position at your desk, not moving or even glancing his way as you speak, focussed on the work infront of you.

“well maybe, you should let me in through the front door.” he remarks back, slightly annoyed about the way he has to come in. he shuts the window behind him, fiddling with the curtain as it gets caught.

you turn in your seat, frowning as you watch him struggle slightly. he then gives up, turning round to meet your gaze, a nonchalant expression on his face as he tries to act like he didn’t just fuck up the curtain slightly. “it's just uh-” he looks down at the caught fabric. “it’s fine-”

“leave it chris.” you sigh, resisting from rolling your eyes. “yeah ok.” he huffs, slightly embarrassed as he moves to sit on the bed, looking around your room observantly. he'd been in here a few times now, some encounters in the evening, others after school when your dad wasn’t home yet.

you get up, opening the window enough to fix the stuck curtain before you close it again, turning to look at chris with an unamused expression. you then go to saunter back to your desk, hoping to reside in your homework.

he catches you by the hip as you move past him. “why don't you take a break?” he asks softly, the suggestion heavy in his voice.

“chris, c’mon.” you huff, making a small attempt to move away from him despite the firm grip he has on you, holding you in place. you look down at him, a slightly pleading expression on his face. “don't look at me like that.” you grumble, removing his hand from your hip so that you could move out of his grasp. “we have a bio exam tomorrow- if anything you should be revising.” you say in an almost accusatory tone as you make your way back to your desk.

he scoffs dismissively, falling back on the bed as soon as you move away. “for all you know i've been revising.” he retorts, his tone slightly sassy.

“have you revised?” you question, raising an eyebrow as you flick through your textbook, looking for a specific page.

there's a silence between you as soon as the question leaves your mouth. “no.” he mumbles in response, preoccupying himself by fiddling with the tassels of the blanket on your bed.

you smile to yourself, although you knew the answer before you’d even asked the question. he takes note of your cocky expression, sitting up on the bed with a frown on his face. “so what if i haven't?” he huffs. “school isn't everything y’know?” he mumbles, obviously taking a little dig at you.

you ignore his little comment, focussing back on your work. furiously writing notes as your eyes scan over the copious amounts of reading. “can you like, not ignore me?” he says, the frown still evident in his slightly annoyed mood.

“m’not.” you hum, although your attention suggests otherwise.

“then why aren't you speaking t’me?” he huffs, feeling bored and annoyed. “because you haven't said anything to me.” you respond softly, your eyes still fixed on your work.

“yeah, because i feel like i’m talking to a fucking wall.” he huffs, clearly frustrated with your undivided attention towards your work. yet again you don’t respond. he groans in annoyance. “seriously, what the fuck.” he complains, throwing his arms up.

“what?” you giggle slightly at his frustrated tone, this time turning to look at him, sitting on the bed looking all grumpy. “don't get your panties in a twist.” you mock, playing with the pen in your hand.

“i'm not-.” he huffs, not even wanting to repeat your words. “just want you.” he mumbles, looking all gloomy and sad.

the words make your stomach flutter, but you ignore the feeling for better judgement. “give me five minutes, and i promise i'll come hang out with you.” your words turning into a mocking baby voice as you swivel on your seat to face your desk again.

“can you like, not do that.” he grumbles, frowning over at you. “nope.” you respond with a pop, fiddling with your pen as you read over your work.

chris lets out a sigh, falling back onto the bed to look up at the ceiling. there's a silence in the room as you concentrate on your homework and he lays there, staring up at the ceiling while fiddling with the drawstrings of his black hoodie.

“can the five minutes be done now?” he asks, clearly getting bored of waiting. you roll your eyes, finishing up before putting your pen down. you stack some of your books, making specific piles for organisation.

he leans up, holding his weight with his elbows. he watches as you particularly organises your shit. he finds it fascinating. you bring over a stack to your bag that's on the floor at the end of your bed. “the fuck you doin?” he questioned, his brows furrowing and his mouth tugged into a small smile. mostly of amusement.

“packing my bag for tomorrow.” you respond as you put all your stuff into the bag a certain way. he shakes his head slightly. “are you just trying to waste my time?” he questions.

“no.” you stifle a small laugh as you continue to basically tidy your room. he leans over, lying on his side now so that he can observe you. “what?” you question innocently, looking up at him. “m’not.” you mumble, going back to what you were doing.

“can you get up here.” he huffs, fed up of waiting. you nod a little, continuing your task. “c’mon.” he mumbles, getting antsy with you. “m’already hard.” he says, almost too quietly for you to hear.

you roll your eyes at his words, a smile of disbelief on your face. “how?” you question, shaking your head slightly as you zip up your bag.

“from watchin you prance around in your sexy pyjamas.” he mumbles, his gaze very obviously hazy with lust.

“well that's a you problem because these aren't even sexy pyjamas.” you say matter-of-factly, raising an eyebrow at him as you stand up to face him.

he shifts to sit up, a frown on his face. “what d’you mean ‘aren’t sexy’?” he questions, running his hands over the side of your hips. “chris.” you tilt your head, looking down at him. he looks over your outfit, a grey vest and some low waisted navy bottoms that curved over your ass perfectly.

“okay, they ain’t lingerie- but still.” he admits before his hand travels to squeeze your ass. clearly a motion to support his point.

the movement brings you closer so you’re now stood between his parted legs, your hand on his shoulders to hold your weight upright. he grins up at you, his hand shifting to your lower back to pull you even closer. “c’mon, y’know you look sexy.”

you smile, unable to hide the effects of his compliment. but you shake your head in disagreement, closing your eyes for a second.

he makes a fake shocked face as his other arm wraps around you to bring her closer, their faces almost touching as you let yourself lean down. “you're crazy.” he mutters before pressing his lips onto yours.

as soon as your lips connect, it's a domino effect of your bodies getting impossibly closer. he lies back on the bed, bringing you with him. with your body on top of his, you shift to comfortably straddle his lap all whilst you kiss.

one of his hands travels up to cup your face, while the other stalls at your lower back, feeling the soft exposed skin.

you continue to kiss like you always did, the both of you comfortable and confident like this. your hands are either side of his head, keeping you up. eventually he slides his own hand from your lower back up to your shoulder, before going down your arm to gently wrap around your wrist. you take the hint and remove the weight off your arms to move your hands to cup his face.

he adapts to the new position, now both of his hands going to your lower back. he's hesitant to grab your ass, not because he never does or because it's too much, but rather because he'd end up pushing your hips down to grind into him, and he didn’t wanna push you to do that.

instead he keeps his hands on your bare skin, waiting for you to grind your hips against his. you pull away slightly, catching your breath as one of your hands travels up to rake through his hair.

“have you got a new aftershave?” you ask curiously.

chris gives you a funny look. “you stopped kissing me to ask that?” he says judgmentally. you shrug, sitting up slightly to put some space between your bodies waist up. “no. i stopped to breathe.” you say, catching your breath as you spoke.

“your staminas bad.” he comments with a lazy smile, looking up at you, his hands resting comfortably on your upper thigh. “no.” you frown, shutting down the accusation. “your face was squashing my nose.”

he grins, sitting up so that you’re face to face again. “my face was squashing your nose?” he repeats with a questioning look and a sly grin. “yeah. it was.” you say back, a stern look on your face.

“oh really?” he raises his eyebrows, nodding as he speaks. “it was squashing you-yeah.” as he speaks he moves closer, his voice fading to a whisper as he goes back in to kiss you desperately.

in this new position your hands travel up to his hair, pulling at the strands. he lets out soft grunts between kisses. you knew he loved it.

in the motion of kissing chris, you begin to move your hips back and forth, a slow pace, almost torturous for him. that's until his hands finally find their way to your ass, squeezing the flesh through your pyjamas before he gently pushes you to grind into him harder.

your mouth falls open, a mix between a gasp and a whine falling from your lips. “they're really thin.” you whisper, looking down at your pyjamas. he follows your gaze, realising. “does it feel good?” he asks, his voice hoarse as his eyes meet yours. you nod, and he goes back to kissing you instantly, his hands never leaving their position on your ass.

you let out soft breathy moans between kisses, your thin pyjamas allowing you to feel his rough jeans against your heat, as well as the faint hardness of his dick underneath.

his lips leave yours, making a trail across your jaw and down your neck, sucking on the skin in order to find a sweet spot. “don't leave any marks chris.” you whisper, although it comes out as more of a whine. “i won't.” he mumbles against your skin, never taking his lips away.

his grip on your ass softens as he notices the way you’re grinding against him at your own accord. so he lets his hands trail up your sides softly, grazing the small slither of skin between the bottom of your top, and the top of your bottoms.

one of his hands slips under your top, his fingers dancing across your rib cage before his thumb traces your underboob.

sexually speaking, you hadn't done much because you were very cautious about how far you were gonna go with chris, especially considering the situation. a guy whos fucked more girls than you know, and who you’re not in a relationship with. and it's not like they were gonna build up to a boyfriend girlfriend status, chris didn't do relationships and you knew that.

he keeps his hand there, only going further with his thumb as he brushes it over your hardened nipple. you moan out, your fingers gripping his hair tighter to keep his mouth on your neck.

he'd had his hand up your top like this before, but now with the arousal clouding his judgement, he began to ruffle the bottom of your top up, eventually pushing it past your tits.

your grip in his hair loosens as you feel your top lift up. he pulls away from your neck, looking up at you with clouded eyes, practically begging you. you nod ever so slightly, and that's enough for chris to trail his kisses further down, over your collar bones before skipping past your bundled up vest and over your tits.

his kisses are delicate on your boobs, like he's gracing the skin. the anticipation is only making you more horny and needy, which is probably why he was doing it. it was no shock that he knew how to pleasure a woman, that should be the bare minimum considering how much practice he gets.

then he looks up at you with his sexy blue eyes, wrapping his lips around your nipple with a smirk plastered on his face. you want to make a comment, but the feeling of him sucking on your sensitive nipple before flicking his tongue over it is too much. so much that you let out a string of gasps and moans, having to bite down on your bottom lip.

once you get used to the new pleasure, your hands return to his hair and your hips begin furiously grinding against his.

you’re in ecstasy, and yet they’re hardly doing anything. for chris he's more centred on your pleasure right now, knowing that you wouldn’t do what he needs you to do so desperately for him. but making a girl squirm under his touch was just as satisfying to him than his own pleasure, your reactions going straight to his already overly-inflated ego.

he pulls off, looking up at you with a cocky grin. “feel good?” he asks, running his fingers over both your nipples as he spoke.

“shut up.” you breathe out, ignoring his cocky remark as you continued to grind your hips against him.

“c’mon, answer the question.” he coaxes, gripping your hips to still your movements. you groan, desperate to move again. “don't be a prick chris” you whine, practically drunk on the pleasure he was giving you.

there's a smug grin on his face as he feels triumphant, looking at you squirm on his lap. “can i finger you?” he asks, the grin still on his face.

you pause, thinking for a second. he takes note of your hesitation, his hand travelling down so that he can teasingly hook his finger into the waistband of your pyjama bottoms. “c’mon.” he coaxes, pressing soft kisses to your neck in order to persuade you.

you sigh at the feeling of his lips on your neck. “okay.” you hum, grabbing his wrist to push his hand into your underwear. “don't go inside though.” you whisper.

“what?” he questions, a curious, amused expression on his face. “don't.. properly finger me.” you say nervously.

his curiosity peaks at your nervousness, you usually spoke so confidently. “why?” he questions. you groan, throwing your head back in annoyance at his pestering comments. “just don't, okay?”

his eyebrows raise a little, an amused grin on his face. “yes ma’am.” he mocks, before his hand ventures a little further, his fingers taking no time to find your clit.

you can't even make a snarky comment back, your mouth falling agape as soon as his fingers are on you. he rubs slow circles on your clit, drawing out soft moans. he hesitates to go back to kissing your neck, instead watching as your mouth falls open and your eyes squeeze shut in pleasure.

“you look so pretty right now.” he murmurs, his voice slightly hoarse. “shut up.” you breathe out, your hands gripping into his hair to pull his lips back to your neck. he lets out a small chuckle against your skin before he sucks at your neck again, simultaneously speeding up the movement of his fingers.

he temporarily removes his hand, shifting to rub your clit with his thumb instead. the more comfortable position allows him to be more deliberate with his touch, creating a faster more consistent rhythm against your bundle of nerves.

“holy shit.” you whine, your body tensing in pleasure as you drop your head onto his shoulder. “you sure you don't want me to finger you?” he whispers in your ear, smirking to himself.

you shake your head, “why not?” he pouts, looking up at you. you look down at him, “i've just never, y’know-” you say quietly, slightly embarrassed by the fact.

“you've never fingered yourself?” he questions, eyebrows raised as he's slightly taken back by the information. his gaze shifts down to where his hand is, down your trousers, watching his own movements as he gently circles your clit. then his eyes meet yours again. “is it bad that i find that hot?” he mumbles, although he's not expecting you to answer.

you roll your eyes at his comment, of course he would find it hot that no one had ever touched you there, not even with your own fingers. “can you just shut up and keep doing what you were doing.” you huff, annoyed at all the interruptions.

“you're so bossy.” he states, enjoying the way he annoys you. “and you talk too much.” you respond, connecting your lips with his to stop him from continuously talking.

the kiss is desperate and messy now that you’ve picked up the pace, his thumb moving faster on your clit to match the energy of your kiss.

he's painfully hard right now, gently rocking his hips up for some friction against your ass. his free hand moves up to grope your boob, gently massaging the flesh as he occasionally brushes his thumb over your nipple.

your hands are in his hair, tugging at the strands. they venture further, cupping his face and grabbing at his hoodie to pull him closer.

“i'm close.” you mumble out against his lips. previously you never would've gone even this far, but with the overwhelming pleasure, you couldn't care less right now.

“where d’you want m’mouth?” he whispers, face a few centimetres from yours as you both catch your breath.

“neck.” you respond quickly, rutting your hips forward to get back the pleasure of his thumb on your clit. the movement of your hips makes you grind against his hard cock. he lets out a gruntled moan as he begins to suck at your neck again.

it's only a few minutes later of his thumb moving at a ridiculous speed, whilst he nips at your neck, his tongue occasionally darting out to soothe the skin. “oh fuck.” you whine, your hips rutting forward in the rush of the moment as your face scrunches up in pleasure.

he shifts his neck to watch as you come undone, your body shaking as you grab onto him, drawing him closer. you let out breathy moans as he continues to rub your clit, continuing to stimulate you as you ride out your high.

once your body relaxes, you flinch away at the overstimulation, dragging his hand out of your underwear by his wrist.

“you look sexy when you cum.” he mumbles, so turned on it was impossible to think about anything else other than his throbbing dick.

you chuckle a little, smiling at him in your orgasmic haze.”thank you.” you whisper, looking down at him endearingly as you run your hand through his hair, evening out your breathing.

“you okay?” you ask softly. he settles his hands on your thighs, softly rubbing them up and down. “uh yeah. just ridiculously hard.” he chuckles out in a breath, looking down at the bulge in his jeans.

your gaze follows him as your teeth naw at your bottom lip. “could i just grind on it?” you mumble out, going a little red at the awkward wording.

“mhm, yeah.” he nods, not wanting to push you to do anything. he leans back on his elbows, giving you the space to do it.

you grip onto his shoulders as you begin to roll your hips across his. he lets out a soft sigh, mostly of relief. after a few minutes though, it begins to feel uncomfortable, the denim rubbing against his sensitive dick.

he sits up a little, gripping your hips to stop you. your face turns to confusion. “sorry- just hurts a little.” he groans, shifting his hips under you to get rid of the discomfort.

you move your hips back so that there's no weight on his dick anymore, then you move your hand down to unbuckle his belt. “oh.” he sighs in surprise and excitement, watching your hands as he lets you.

you unbutton and unzip his jeans, opening them to reveal the vivid outline of his hard cock behind his boxers. you shuffle his jeans down far enough for them to not be covering his dick anymore, ignoring the way her mouth waters at the sight.

“shit.” he hisses under his breath, watching tour every move in anticipation, letting you do what you want. you then shift forwards again, your weight back on his dick. “mmgh.” he groans at the new sensation.

“better?” you ask, rocking your hips back and forth in fluid motions. “mmh, yeah-fuck.” he moans, lying back on the bed as he lets his mouth fall open.

he can almost feel your pussy against him, only thin layers of material between them. his hands wander to your hips, reaching round to squeeze the flesh of your ass.

he lets out breathy moans as his head falls back against the mattress, giving into the feeling of your body against his. every time he feels the heat of your core rubbing against his throbbing dick, it makes his stomach turn, bringing him closer to the edge.

“i’m gonna cum like this.” he groans, his words catching in his throat. as he feels his orgasm approaching, he shifts under you, pulling the waistband of his boxers down enough for his dick to spring out.

you watch with wide eyes, shifting back onto his thighs. he doesn't notice your startled, curious expression, only thinking about the pleasure as he wraps his hand around his dick. he pumps himself, lips thinning as he concentrates. his face contracts, scrunching up as he furiously rubs his cock, desperate to cum.

“oh fuck.” he groans, using his free hand to lift his hoodie up slightly. “fuck, fuck-” he moans, head falling back as his face relaxes into pleasure.

you watch curiously as ropes of cum spurt out of the tip. you’ve never seen a dick in front of you like this, the erotic scene turning you on more than you’d like to admit.

“shiiiiit.” he groans, pumping the last of his cum out. it's a mess, all over his hand that's now loosely wrapped around his half hard dick, the rest on his lower stomach, slowly running down.

“fuck- could’ya get a tissue or somethin?” he mumbles, snapping you out of your trance. “uh, yeah, yeah.” you mumble under your breath, scrambling off his lap to get some toilet paper from your bathroom. you return with the entire roll, ripping off a bunch and handing it to him.

he takes it from you, cleaning up his hand before attending to the mess on him. he wipes it all off, requesting some more to which you quickly respond, ripping more off and handing it to him all scrunched up.

“thanks.” he sighs, finishing up. you nod a little, returning to the bathroom to put the toilet paper back.

once you return, he’s tucked his dick away, doing up his belt. “sorry bout that.” he apologises, looking over her bed to make sure none of the mess made it’s way there.

“s’fine.” you mumble, standing in front of him. he stands up, fixing his hoodie and his trousers to look presentable again.

“uh, m’gonna go.” he says, pointing towards the window. “m’kay.” you nod, your bottom lip settled between your teeth.

“you okay?” he questions, raising an eyebrow as he gently rubs your upper arms. “yeah, yeah. i'm good.” you reassured him with a soft smile.

“okay, i'll see you tomorrow.” he nods, cupping your face and pressing a soft kiss to your head. he then moves away, opening your window. “bio exams tomorrow.” he says as a reminder, although it was obvious that he was just remembering and reminding himself.

“yep.” you chirp, watching as he climbs out onto your roof. he sends you a sly grin before shutting the window behind him and leaving your house.

you stand there for a second, thinking about what just happened before you push it all out of your mind, settling back to your desk to revise. sitting there like nothing had even happened.

©sturnsrecord

notes . this is a reupload from my previous account @/plan8sturn, and I’ll be continuing the series here

[incorrectmarvelquotesss]

— it’s the little things —

Warnings: fluff, some angst

Summary: There’s some harder questions to answer about Jason.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Female Reader

A/N: An idea that popped up when I couldn’t answer a niece’s question about her father’s job (he’s a firefighter). Enjoy!

"Momma, why doesn't daddy smile a lot?" He looked up at you, his young face serious, as if pondering some profound thought.

Six year old Owen was sitting at the dining table, a picture book sprawled open in front of him. While he often asked about Jason’s “work”, this time his questioning took a different turn.

You looked at him, your movements slowing down as you mulled over your answer. “He does, baby. He smiles when you play with him, remember?” You turned the tap on, washing off the soap on the plate.

Owen shrugged, his young mind processing the answer, his fingers idly tracing the pictures in the open book.

“But it's not like yours,” he pointed out. The pure innocence and simplicity of his remark struck at your heart. He looked back up at you, his eyes curious and childlike. “Why aren't his smiles like yours? You smile a lot.”

You tilted your head a bit. “Wanna explain a bit?” You asked gently, trying to both pry into his question and buy yourself time to find a good answer for him.

Owen thought for a moment, his young mind struggling to put his thoughts into words. He was quiet as he looked at the picture book, then back at you.

He finally spoke, his voice filled with innocence and curiosity. “Daddy's smiles are different. They're small and quick, like he's not really happy.”

He paused, his little brow furrowing as he continued. “Your smiles are big and warm. It's like you're really, really happy,” he added with lilt in his tone as if he thought it was his fault somehow.

You hummed in a contemplative manner. “I guess he does do those quick smiles, doesn’t he?” You were still stalling. You knew Owen had questions about his father, but you didn’t think you’d get this question while Jason was out for evening patrol.

You turned off the tap. Owen nodded, his gaze still fixed on you.

“Yeah... and he doesn't laugh often either, like you do when you watch funny movies.” His small lips pursing as if in thought. “Why is that, momma? Why does daddy laugh and smile less than you do?”

You started drying the dishes, thinking over your answer before you said something that wouldn’t make sense to a six year old. “He’s… not unhappy, Owen. He’s just…” you trailed off, searching for the right words.

You found it hard to find the right words to explain the complexity of Jason’s emotional state to an innocent and curious child.

“Just…?” Owen prompted, his young eyes fixed on you, silently urging you to continue.

You looked down at the dishes for a moment, prolonging your next words. “You know how he tells you about those adventures he goes on during work?” You breathed in deeply as Owen’s eyes lit up.

Owen nodded, his interest piqued. “Yeah, the ones where he's a super cool hero who beats up the bad guys.”

You hummed in agreement. “Sometimes, there’s bad people who hurt good people,” you started slowly, watching his reaction to your carefully crafted words. “And sometimes, your daddy can’t help all of them get better.”

Owen's expression turned pensive, his young mind trying to grasp the concept. His little fingers traced the same picture in the open book, as if trying to make sense of the world.

He looked back up at you, his voice soft. “Why can't daddy help them all get better, momma?”

“Because he can’t be everywhere all at once, right?” You put away the last plate and wiped your hands on a towel before sitting down on the kitchen island stool beside Owen.

Owen nodded, his young mind slowly processing your words. He was quiet for a moment, his gaze again fixed on the picture book in front of him.

Then, looking up at you, he spoke, his voice soft and a hint of concern in his eyes. "Does that make daddy sad? That he can't help everybody?"

You nodded. “It does, baby,” you confirmed with a gentle yet sad smile. “It makes him sad, but then he comes home to us and we make him feel better.” You raked a hand through his dark hair gently.

Owen's face softened at your touch, leaning slightly into your hand. He looked up at you, his eyes now filled with a mixture of understanding and love.

He nodded silently, his tiny hand reaching out to hold yours for a moment. The weight of your words seemed to sink in, his young mind grappling with the reality of his father's job and the complicated emotions it brought about.

“Your momma’s right,” Jason’s voice came from behind. Both you and Owen looked over to the doorway to see Jason standing there, leaning against the doorframe, his tired eyes observing the two of you.

Owen brightened visibly at the sight of his father, his usual energetic self returning momentarily. “Daddy! You're home early!”

Jason pushed off the doorframe and approached you both, his weariness momentarily replaced by a hint of warmth as he looked at Owen. He spoke, his rough voice slightly hoarse. “Yeah, buddy. Patrol wrapped up a bit earlier than expected.”

His eyes darted to you for a brief moment, eyes conveying his appreciation for your way of explaining his feelings in a way he couldn’t himself comprehend.

“You kicked some bad guys' butts, right, daddy?”Owen smiled widely, his innocent excitement at seeing his father evident. He looked up at Jason with a sense of admiration that only a child could feel.

Jason grinned, albeit a bit strained. He ruffled Owen’s hair. “Heck yeah, I did.”

[creatingblackcharacters]

Follow Up to the Follow Ups

Some feedback to the responses I received:

1) A lot of people said that fear and discomfort is what makes antiracism not worth standing alone for. Okay, so then I want you to say this phrase to yourself when it comes to that moment:

"I would rather be antiblack than be afraid in this situation"

Does it make you uncomfortable? More uncomfortable than speaking up? I want you to dwell on that! And no, I'm not saying this to hurt you; sometimes it is the better option to stay quiet. I recognize that you have to recognize your own weight class. (Not so much on Tumblr as it is in real life, granted 🙄) But this is often the outcome when we choose not to act. We just don't admit that to ourselves so directly.

Try to notice how often you make that choice, how often you even have to make it. If you find yourself saying this more often than not, do you still feel you identify as an ally when it comes to speaking up about antiblackness? I'm not saying you have to fight every single battle. I'm just asking you to take the time to notice how often you find yourself tolerating more than you don't. And if that's something that you genuinely feel isn't right, or that you want to change, do so! You have the option to strengthen your allyship!

2) I feel like my question about Black fans got walked around a bit. Tbh, that is already the reality Black people live in. The way you aren't comfortable speaking up, I don't feel safe assuming you're safe to be around. It's a far more perilous outcome for me, putting faith in the anti-racism of a person that I don't witness them express.

3) Fear, itself

How do you think I feel? 🤣 You're afraid to speak out on antiblackness because you're worried about the anger of, or- if we're being honest- the social consequences of speaking out? I have an entire page dedicated to addressing antiblackness in media while Black!

At any point, not for my own betterment but the potential- not even a guarantee, just the potential- of yours, I openly put myself at risk of racist ire to try make the space around me better. I've been called plenty of slurs and insults on my main discussing these things. It's not an easy choice to risk that vulnerability. Trust, I understand that!

It's honestly gone far better than expected, though part of that is because I have to police my own tone. I don't expect other Black people to do so, or to have to do so. I can only imagine an environment where people felt less inclined to treat me and my peers that way, that they felt the fear of social repercussions for their racism when they spoke instead of me.

My point here is, I'm not naturally built to be stronger than you when it comes to dealing with racism. The way you are afraid of your peers treating you, is the way they already treat me and my peers. I'm forced into resilience, I've spent a long time learning how to deal with this. If I can stomach living with this, you can occasionally take the risk and speak up. Again, I'm not asking you to fight every battle. But you're capable of more battles than you think.

That's it! That's the end of the introspection practice this week. Thank y'all for participating; I hope that you got some perspectives to take on with you.

[genderqueerdykes]

I’m really nervous to say this but I think I might be a girl, but it’s confusing because I still think I was born male.

Like, I use he/him for myself sometimes. I don’t consider myself even trans, I’m a girl in a boys body or a girl who was raised/born with a penis. Sometimes I don’t feel like I’m a real Transfem, or like I’m less valid because I still consider myself male to some degree. Or I feel like I’m using transmed language. I know it isn’t true, but the internalized transphobia is real. 😞

(also btw I go by the name Ren, if you could refer to me that way please)

hello there! thanks for taking the time to stop by, we really appreciate it

i totally see where you're coming from. i don't think you have to feel ashamed for thinking/feeling that way right now. i have met so many girls in your situation and it's totally okay to feel that way while you're coming to accept who you are. many transfems are affected by imposter syndrome and i think it's due to the absolutely unrealistic expectations we place on every single transfem. i think it's because of how poorly other people treat you and other transfems

it's really easy to internalize that you're not "really" this or "really" that when other people treat you that way, or you've witnessed that behavior being expressed towards others. it's alright to feel unsure of yourself right now. a lot of trans people start off thinking they're a girl in a boy's body, or a boy in a girl's body. it's alright to not see your body as a girl's body yet. it takes time to accept that. some of my exes have been in the same situation where they still saw their body as a man's body and it's okay. you are a girl in a girl's body, but you've been told otherwise for so long it's okay to take a while to dismantle that

you sound transfem to me, i hope you're able to feel more confident soon as time passes. if possible, it may help you to try to seek out online transfem spaces, i'm part of a few on discord and i see a lot of people being very proactive in helping ease the dysphoria of other transfems. it's so common, you're not alone. some of the most intense dysphoria i've ever seen in a trans person came from the trans girls i've known. and who can blame you? society is so harsh towards trans women

it's okay if you're not perfectly feminine or if you don't fit into any type of box. it's okay if you need time to accept things. and many trans people do end up viewing their lives as "halves". many older trans women i've met have told me about "when they were living as a boy/man" and when they began living as a woman. i've met trans men who say the inverse. it's okay if you feel like you were a boy/man at at one point and are no longer. it's okay to feel like you were born in a boy/man's body and need to transition to make it feel like a girl's body, and your body. however you feel about it, you don't need to feel ashamed of yourself.

you're still a girl, Ren! you're still transfem. imposter syndrome is tough, i hope it eases up for you soon. you don' thave to jump through any hurdles to be transfem- so many transfems out there feel just the same way you do. it's okay

hope that helps, take care for now. please feel free to ask any more questions you may have!

[muffinsin]

halloooo muffin !! if its okay may i request how the dimitrescu daughters would act if reader said 'Is this seat taken?' and pointing to their lap as their doing what not that they enjoy? i had this thought when your inbox was closed and now that i see its open i had 2 ask ❤ ( also js a silly little thing right here but i hope ur doing well ! i love ur prompts 2 :3 )

Hi, hon! :) Awhh, of course! Using sum reactions again for this one XP I'm flattered! :) this one actually seems quite familiar too, but I didn't find the prompt on the Masterlists

Let's get into it!

Masterlists

Bela

You watch her as she works, her desk an organized mess

It's often like this, really

Bela's busy, and working, the majority of the time. And still, she loves to have you with her

Occaisonally, she looks up, her eyes either full of love, or a silent apology for working so much

You don't mind now, though, not when it means getting to spend time with her, in her office, where it's nice and quiet, warm and secluded

A bit of a paradise, to both of you, a breather

A break from the chaos that the castle can bring, and especially the chaos and trouble her younger sisters can cause her

Briefly, you only stay behind her, trailing your fingertips across the chair before your eyes find a much more comfortable spot: Bela's lap

You grin to yourself as you take in her thick, soft thighs, even with the dress on

Then, you turn to her side, allowing her to look up and look at you

"Is this seat taken?", you ask, but don't quite await her answer

Instead, she gasps in surprise when you suddenly sit down, but her surprise fades quick

Instead, she wraps her free arm around you and presses a kiss to your cheek, humming, utterly happy to feel you this close to her

In return, you get to sink against her

And while she isn't warm per say, she is rather soft

You make a mental note to bring her a blanket later on

Cassandra

Cassandra is...unused, to love and relationships and an actual partner, at best

Still, she likes to spend her time with you, hoping you enjoy it as much as she does

Often, this means doing things together, or being together while doing seperate things, such as now

She's sitting at the desk in her room, whereas you're on the bed, watching her for the time being

Her tongue is stuck out in concentration and her dark golden eyes are set entirely on the sickle in her hand as she sharpens it

Your eyes trail from her face to her shoulders, to her chest and down her arms and waist, until you spot her lap, instead

Often, it's full of weapons she's yet to clean, or even some she has cleaned and sharpened already

Not today, as you surprised by her cleaning her desk off properly and making space for her beloved weapons

You move slowly, feeling so comfortable in the warm room that you almost begin to feel tired

Then, you place your fingertip under her chin, giggling when she looks up at you with wide, questioning eyes

"Is this seat taken?", you hum, your eyes darting down to her lap

And briefly, you see the impact of your words on her, how her eyes widen a little and she moves her sickle aside silently, as if to make space for you

When you sit down, she looks positively flustered, her cheeks pink, her eyes wide, her lips parted a little

Her sickle is still held up mid-air, her arms seemingly frozen in place

She isn't quite sure what to do, almost utterly inexperienced with actual relationships, not ones purely consisting of pleasure and using one another's bodies, and such soft, loving acts

You don't mind, though, and only giggle at her when, at last, she closes her mouth again

And still,

the blush remains

Daniela

Daniela Dimitrescu

Your love bug

Cuddly, affectionate, flirty, playful, clingy, a tease

Big on touch, on kisses, on hugs, on sitting on one another’s lap

You watch her as she reads, sitting comfortably in the library, her eyes slipping shut occasionally after finishing a page, so utterly comfortable with your hands in her hair

You love spending time together like this

Besides, it’s utterly adorable how relaxed she gets like this

Then, when your legs ache a little too much, you get an idea

She whines when your fingers leave her hair, her golden eyes set on you

Then, you walk up in front of her, a playful smile on your lips as you point to her lap

“Is this seat taken?”, you ask, giggling when her cheeks adapt a soft, pink colour moments after

She nods wordlessly, but fast, a little caught off guard

Despite how flirty she is, she’s a little lost whenever you actually flirt back or tease her back

Or, in this case, simply fluster the sweet thing

When you sit, she automatically wraps her arms around you, a huge smile on her face, though her cheeks are warm and of a bright pink shade

When you kiss her, she’s momentarily too surprised to do much but gasp, but leans into you just a few moments after

Her legs bounce in excitement, but you don’t mind

When you cup her cheeks, she giggles

She doesn’t notice it when she drops her book, wrapping her arms around you instead

By now you know what this means; cuddling, kissing, holding one another

And you wouldn’t have it any other way

You find, she’s adorable

[vladdyissues]

Lately Ive seen some awful things about antis and haters making threats and getting artists banned from Tumblr and X. Im new to the Phandom and love pompep but Im scared i'll be targeted if I write and share pompep fics. How do you manage sharing your work so bravely?

Firstly, welcome to the Phandom—and especially Pompous Pep! I have a simple protocol for enjoying a drama-free Tumblr experience:

Preventative Action

1. Find your community. Follow other Pompep fans and supporters and reblog their things. Don't be afraid to leave nice tags; we love and welcome interactions :) You can also join the Pompep Discord server if you enjoy chatting (DM me for details).

2. Turn off anon asks. This will solve 99% of all potential problems, and you can turn it back on whenever you want. Antis are cowards who prefer to hide behind the mask of anonymity. They seldom have the courage to say something with their whole username.

3. Block the obvious haters. This is a big fandom, and at some point you're likely to come across people openly hating on pompep, either on their bio, pinned posts, or comments. Block them. For an added layer of protection, add their username to your Filtering Options.

4. Tag your work appropriately. When posting, make sure your work is tagged correctly (the #pompous pep tag is especially important) so people who like pompep can find it and those who want to avoid it can block the tag. Use Content Labels when applicable.

5. Try to avoid using the platonic tag (#badger cereal) and the romantic tag (#pompous pep) at the same time. Some fans are really touchy about this. I'm not, and I think there are legitimate cases where use of both is applicable, but if you want to minimize friction, just stick with one tag or the other.

If you're not sure which tag to use, ask yourself what your intentions are with your art or fic. Is the goal a romantic relationship? If so, use the pompep tag. If it's truly ambiguous and could be seen either way, use the platonic tag first. You can always add another tag like "okay to tag as pompep", just to let people know they can interpret it however they please.

Responsive Action

If the above guidelines aren't 100% effective, here's what you do:

1. Don't feed the trolls. If you receive any negative asks in your inbox, it's important to NOT engage with them. Delete them, ignore them, don't let them get to you. Antis thrive on attention, so let them starve. Eventually they'll move on when they realize they're not going to get a rise out of you.

The same goes for any negative comment left on your work. Just delete it, block the person who left it, and pretend it never happened.

These asks and comments may come in the form of questions. Example: "How can you ship Danny with Vlad? That's [insert gross accusation here]" Resist the urge to answer these questions. They are not made in good faith. This person just wants to start an argument.

2. Report any harassment. If by some chance you receive a seriously hateful ask, like threats of violence or abuse, take a screenshot for proof/safekeeping, then report the message and the user if they're not anonymous. If the ask is anonymous, use the meatball menu (•••) at the top right to report the message and block the anon.

Final Words

It takes time to develop a thick skin and Don't Give A Fuck attitude, but it can be done. You are a phan. You have every right to be here and enjoy this fandom in peace, just like everyone else. Anyone who believes in harassing others over silly things like which cartoon characters should be allowed to kiss clearly has nothing better to do with their life. The sooner you shut them out, the happier you'll be.

Regarding media: Artists attract a lot more negative attention than writers for reasons I won't get into right now, but if you're mainly a writer, you will enjoy a much quieter fandom experience. Wherever you post your stories—I recommend AO3; DM me if you need an invite—follow the same advice there as I've given here: make sure your work is tagged correctly; support your fellow Pompep fans by reading and commenting on their works, building that community; moderate comments if you're concerned about negativity; block and mute users if they give you any trouble, and you'll enjoy a much more positive fandom experience.

There is strength in community. When you start making new fandom friends, you'll feel a lot less lonely, and that will give you the confidence you need to really have a good time here.

Wishing you the best, anon!

[takamimami]

Hello!

Congratulations on your 100 followers 🥳!!!!!

I'd like to ask you Kid with prompt 12: "You make me a better person." f!reader please 😉

Hi anons!! I apologize for this taking so long - I got hit with some vicious PMDD the past two weeks and had ZERO motivation to do anything at all, let alone write. I wanted to make sure I could give you something I was proud of - and I can gladly say that I did just that :3 I hope you enjoy the read, and thanks again for your submissions!!

Kidd x F!Reader - SFW - "You make me a better person." - STORY UNDER THE CUT CW: FLUFF; kidd proposes, bro is a bumbling idiot in the cutest way ever, I'm so hopelessly in love with him help me, gentle kidd will be the death of me ---word count 1.7k

It’d been four days since you’d seen Kidd.

Four days.

The occasional disappearance of your captain had come to be expected, seeing as the man needed his alone time to decompress from time to time, but four days were impressive even for him.

Especially considering that the entire time the crew had been out at sea, meaning you were never more than a few yards away from him at any given point. 

You’d begun to contemplate asking Killer if he had fallen overboard without anyone noticing when a disheveled head of red hair burst into the kitchen, grumbling in Killer’s direction and motioning for him to follow him.

You stood up and Kidd’s eyes snapped to you, the intensity in them causing your step to falter. When you stopped moving his eyes shifted to Killer, who then turned to face you and reached an arm out to rest a hand on your shoulder.

“Y/N, listen,” he starts, and Kidd disappears through the door as he blocks you from following after him.

“This isn’t going to make any sense, but just… don’t follow him right now, okay?” 

Your brows furrowed and you inhaled deeply to protest, but Killer continued before you had a chance to offer your rebuttal.

“I know,” he sighs, hands waving in the air in front of him, “I know. He’s… I don’t even know what to tell you is up with him right now. Just, leave him be for a bit longer, okay?”

The concern must have been evident on your face because Killer returned his hand to your shoulder, rubbing it in an attempted reassuring gesture.

“Did… did I do something?” Your voice was shaky with concern, but much to your surprise Killer lets out a laugh at your question.

A laugh.

“Technically… yes,” he chuckles, and despite your confusion, the answer manages to loosen the tension that had built in your shoulders.

“Just… trust me, okay? I promise you it will be worth the wait.”

You swear you can see him wink at you through his mask as he turns and walks out of the kitchen and toward where Kidd disappeared.

You took a deep breath before returning to your task at hand, and once you’d finished the dishes you wiped down the counters before heading up to the crow’s nest to relieve Bubblegum for the night.

You brought a book with you to distract you from the nagging thoughts of Kidd, but it did little to calm the tempest of thoughts swirling in your head. You found yourself replaying your last encounters with your lover in your head to try to figure out what had triggered this reaction from him, but you came up empty-handed with every scenario, inevitably ending up flipping through the pages of your book as you desperately try to get a grip of your mind.

You continue this cycle until the sun finally starts to peek up over the edge of the water and House greets you with a sleepy smile at the crow’s nest door, signaling the end of your watch shift. 

You scaled the ladder quickly and disappeared below deck, hoping a shower and a nap would help ease your mind enough to let you fall asleep before tending to your afternoon duties. 

As you pull open the door to your and Kidd’s cabin, you are startled to find him sitting on the edge of your bed, his head resting on his hands – which are resting on his knees.

You curled an eyebrow at him curiously as you crossed the room, not sure what reaction you would get from him as you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his temple.

“Hi,” you greet him quietly, the timidness in your voice causing him to look up at you with weary eyes.

“Hey.”

You stand before him for a moment before deciding to continue with your original plan, turning to move for the bathroom door. 

“I’m going to shower and get some sleep,” you mumble, looking back over your shoulder to survey Kidd. He just simply nods, making no effort to move from his spot on the bed.

You shuffle through the room in search of a towel, slinging one over your shoulder once you find it and reaching for the door handle of the bathroom.

“Did I do something?”

Your movements stop as you let the question fall from your lips, unable to bear this tension any longer. You don’t turn to look at Kidd, instead you keep your eyes trained on the bathroom door before you until you hear his weight shift on the bed behind you.

A strong arm snakes around your waist and before you have time to protest you’re being turned around to face him, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face as you look up at him.

First, Killer… now him?

“What the fuck is so fun-?!”

Your words are cut off as his lips connect to yours, your irritation dissolving as his teeth pull your bottom lip in between his own. He bites down lightly and your lips part for him, his tongue pressing inside your mouth and tangling with your own.

The kiss is soft and short, and a heartbeat later Kidd is pulling away from you, tugging your hand into his as he leads you toward the door.

“Where are we going?”

“Shush,” he grunts, pulling you out into the hall and up onto the deck of the Victoria Punk. You follow him up the stairs of the helm, his steps finally coming to a halt as he reaches the railing.

The sunrise pulls your attention as you listen to the sound of waves crashing against the hull of the ship, the distraction only temporary as Kidd drops your hand and starts digging through his pockets.

“What the fuck is going on, Kidd?”

He stops fumbling around and looks at you, eyes softer than usual as he speaks.

“I was supposed to wait until we docked, but I don’t want to anymore,” he starts, pulling a crinkled piece of paper from his pocket. 

He clears his throat and holds the paper out in front of him, eyes scanning over the words on it before he clears his throat. 

“Y/N,” he starts, his voice slightly wobbly, “I’ve tried to figure out how the hell I wanted to do this for months now, and every time I thought I had a good idea, I ended up hating it and going back to the drawing board.”

Footsteps on the staircase behind you pull your attention, but just as quickly as he appears, Killer disappears back down the stairs, as if he’d stumbled upon something he wasn’t supposed to.

Kid grunts before reaching for your hand, pulling your gaze back to him as he starts to speak again.

“I sat at my desk for hours trying to put the perfect words onto this paper, and the longer I tried the more stupid it sounded. Ugh, wait - not stupid,” he runs his hand through his hair in distress. “This isn’t stupid, that’s not what I meant, I jus-”

You reach out and cup his face in your hand, a small reassuring smile curling onto your lips as a single tear pools in the corner of your eye as you realize what is happening.

Kid grunts again, sighing heavily as he leans into your touch, “I’m sorry,” he breathes, crumpling the piece of paper and letting it fall to the floor, “I don’t know the right words to say, so I’m not going to sit here and read you some script off of a piece of paper.”

He pulls his face from your hand and kneels down to the floor, at the same time that the first tear falls down your cheek. He shoves his hand in his pocket and reaches for your left hand with his metal one, eyes growing slightly hazy as he looks up at you.

“I-I don’t know how you did it, but you managed to make me rethink e-everything in my life,” he stumbles through the words, “I still don’t think I deserve to have you by my side, but I thank the gods they dropped you in my lap that night because I don’t know where or who I would be if I hadn’t met you.”

“You’ve loved every version of me, unconditionally, and without intentionally trying, you made me a better person – a better version of myself. Which is pretty impressive because I was already pretty fucking great when you met me.”

You let out a choked laugh, though it sounds more like a sob due to the tears now streaming down your cheeks as you stare at the ring resting in Kidd’s hand.

“All I know,” he says after chuckling to himself, “Is that I want you… I need you by my side, forever.”

Your heart stills as Kidd raises his hand, revealing the ring he’d spent the last three nights perfecting for you, unbeknownst to you. 

He slides the ring on your finger and you realize your hands are shaking, you bring your hand up to your face and admire the craftsmanship of the ring for a moment, before dropping your hand back down to his and staring down at him through bleary eyes.

“So is this you asking me to marry you?”

Your question makes Kidd’s smile drop, and he cocks a brow at you as he looks between you and the ring.

“Isn’t that obvious?”

You ignore the attitude in his tone and smirk at him, cocking your hip to the side as you cross your arms.

“You didn’t ask the question,” you muse, smirk growing as he rolls his eyes, “Or do I not get a choice in the matter?”

He smirks at that suggestion and stands, wrapping an arm around your waist as he pulls you into his embrace.

“Glad you know that ‘No’ isn’t an option here,” he teases, leaning down and pressing a quick and gentle kiss to your lips. He pulls back slightly and meets your gaze, his eyes sparkling from the glow of the distant sunrise.

“Will you?”

“Will I, what?”

Kidd pinches your side and you yelp, giggling as he squeezes you in his arm tighter.

“Marry me, brat.”

You fling your arms around his neck as a fresh set of tears begin to fall, crashing your lips into his. You feel his shoulders relax as he deepens the kiss, twirling your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck as he pulls back from you moments later.

“Of course I will, asshole.”

100 Follower Event Masterlist ✨come say hai :3✨

[kittsyspaw]

✦ ❝ 𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭? ❞

𝑆YNO ✦ .ᐟ AcademicRival!Jay jo makes you do a favor after catching you cheating on an important exam in exchange of him not telling on you

WARNINGS !¡ Blowjob no actual sex scene but its implied, kinda descriptive blowie, SHELLY AND JAY AREN'T TOGETHER IN THIS, collage au ig??? Cheating on exam and getting caught by Jay, degrading, OOC JAY BTW him calling you slut or whore, you faking your personality, One-shot, etc

Panicked students rushed to their seats, some prayed, others took looks on their notes or books while some practiced with each other for the last but not least exam. Well, except the two smartest students in the class, who sat at the back, one had his attention out of the window while the other sat right beside him, a smile plastered on your 'calm' face.

While in reality, you were panicking, your palms were oily from the sweat emitting from them. You were so busy the past two weeks, you didn't have the time to even grasp any learning material. But...the reason you were nervous wasn't just because you didn't study but because of the small ink writings that covered your whole wrist like tattoos. You have to pass this exam, or your frame will be ruined.

Jay hadn't paid you any mind, he would never confess to it but you angered him, always getting first place, just a few, a little nudge of more points than him. It made him jealous, it made his mother angry and his friends confused. The girl who always sat in the back, people feared to befriend you, hell, they even were too terrified to ask you for homework because you were on a totally different hierarchy level of intelligence.

You were what people registered as a rare breed of genius, many schools, projects and other companies begged to hire you, to meet with you or have you in one of their projects. You were a raw mystery. Nobody really knew you or who you really were, only a speck of an image spat about you from one gossiping ear to another.

Jay didn't care. At first, he didn't. He had ignored all the scandals and warnings, they told him not to compete with you, they challenged his smarts. Right away, the stoic male noticed the sheer difference in your presence, he lost, the person who bet on you winning a huge sum of money when you passed the last exam effortlessly, scoring 0.5 points more, winning the golden podium.

Ever since, he had been concealing the bitter resentment he had for you, why were you better? How come? Why did you have to be exactly in his class like a fucking curse, Jay jo kept up his monotone act, it was hard. You greeted him everyday, only him. As if the others didn't exist or never even did. You didn't even remember their names, or jay thought so.

He had a little... pride, you didn't acknowledge others to the point where people just started treating you like a goddess, one that just serves her brains and beauty, not allowing anyone in her little circle. Classmates feared you. Jay jo didn't, that's what made you start liking him, you just always had an eye on him.

But today, something was off, Jay had scraped off every little detail about you, he learned it by heart now, your whole dialogue started by you greeting him, organizing your books and pencil case, looking out the window before flashing him a smile then sitting up–straight, there was no dirt to dig up on you...always so...perfect. The other jealous people made up rumors that were hard to believe because you never revealed anything about yourself.

'I want to become a skilled surgeon.'

You had once told the black haired male and it never left his head since, on repeat like a mantra. The one, minuscule you exposed, you trusted Jay with it and boy did he gatekeep that information. He didn't question you any further, scared that you'll pull out of the small connection you two made because he's too pushy.

Yet...today, it was off, a fraud smile, no look out the window, your pencil case not set in a perfect 180° angle, you water bottle sluggishly standing on your desk and the constant jitters of your clenched palms, your posture shrinking. Your little jump when the teacher placed the last exam paper on your desk. "Eyes on your papers, you have two hours and forty minutes, breaks are not allowed, start."

Jay held his black pen between his thumb, pointer and middle finger, his name drawn on the papers before he viewed over the questions, starting with the hardest before continuing his way to the easiest one. Jay had done the sin to glance over at your desk, his glasses reflected the light on the ceiling as he progressed what he was seeing.

The fury that stirred in the male made his fingers clench around the pen, almost twisting it around. All this time? Fucking 'intellectual' his ass, he was gawking at the cheat sheet on your wrist with a clenched jaw, a vein popping on Jaye forehead. All the arguments he got into with his mother, the days he spent praying that you'll change schools for his own good, all of that frustration came from the fact that you cheated? Did you do this with every exam?

He wanted to yell at you right away, rat you out to the teacher right away instead of that...he was quiet. Jay could use this to his advantage, it was a huge piece of blackmail, a dust that he scratched off, that could ruin your life if you wanted to pass this year. And Jay wasn't an asshole either...but it was a win-win situation.

The time flew past your presence and just as you wrote the last answer, ending it with a period, the end-coming alarm went off and the teacher started collecting the exam sheets, you let out a huge sigh, the previous state of you being nervous finally subsided to a normal flow again. "How did you do?"

You shrank at the question, the guilt from being deceitful made you bite down on your bottom lip, chewing on it. "Good, i think." Jay narrowed his eyes at you, his teeth screeching against each other painfully, how dare you? And now you're lying? Looks like that neat persona of yours was faked too.

"oh I bet you did."

The reply you gave was perplexed but Jay shrugged it off so you copied him, not reasoning much with it, just being glad that you didn't get caught in the middle– "I saw you, you know that, Right?" The whisper in your ear made your bit hunched back straighten up immediately, looking at Jay with horrified eyes.

"What are you talking abou–" you tried brushing it off as a joke, your smile faltering when you caught, on you were unshielded from the comfort that came from knowing that nobody had an idea that you were cheating on the exam, your fists clenching at Jays solid face. '"Yeah? Did you?" It was Jays turn to buckle up for the change in identity, your bitchy and sassy side was seeping through the cracks of the fake walls in being a perfect person.

Jay readied himself to cool down from your defensive come-back, cold eyes not separating from his distant, black hues. "So what? Ya' gonna rat out on me? Awh! finally you got some tales to tattle about to the teachers about me?" he was bewildered, absolutely taken aback, Jay got whiplash from the switch of tone... everything.

"And if i do? You can smooch your future of being a surgeon goodbye."

Oh now he did it. He touched the most sensitive and easily angered nerve in your body, pushing you to your limits. "Don't you fuckin' dare." You hissed through your teeth, the little smirk that showed Jays canines made you frustrated, your painted fingernails digging into the wood of your desk, you two were the only ones in the empty classroom that was just filled with conversations, papers being flipped, zippers opened and keys jingled.

"Or what? What are you gonna do?"

Your bottom lip trembled, your eyes glossy and when Jay caught sight of that, his ego faded...did he feel good making you almost cry? You trusted him with sour dream job and he used something that wasn't even bad-gossip as a weapon "Don't cry. I'm not an asshole.... we're gonna make a deal, yeah?"

"What...is it?" You stuttered out, afraid to ask for what the agreement was going to be. Jay looked you deep in the eyes, turning his body so it was in your direction before speaking with no hesitation at all.

"Get down on your knees."

The request left you speechless, your mouth agape, scoffing right after. "Excuse me?" The male tilted his head, as if you had said something wrong, you had no right to question this, your future was on the line. "What is it? You don't understand? It's our deal."

The bold letters of humiliation were printing inside your head as you slowly pushed the chair and got down on your legging covered legs, folding your hands in your lap, refusing to look Jay in the eyes. He taunted you by chuckling, placing his veiny hand over your head, patting the hairs enough for his fingers to get between the spaces of your hair.

Pulling harshly, you yelped at the sting, hands clawing at Jays wrist violently, your face scrunching up as he made you look up at him towering over you, the grip withered, he stroked your head again, was this revenge? "Don't act coy, I bet you've done this multiple times before, didn't you, cheating slut?"

Your ego was hurt by the insult and you were distracted by the sound of a zipper after that, gulping in anticipation...you were gonna do this. For your surgeon future. Well, a hidden part in your tummy was thrilled, finally the eunuch with no desire for any girls touch that you were crushing on was making a move... although this was the wrong situation.

"Go on..."

Batting your lashes a few times, you took out Jays cock...oh it was huge, to your shocker,...it didn't fit in your hand completely, licking your lipglossed lips at the pearly pre-cum collected on his reddish tip. Jays dick was perfect...he was well groomed, two veins on it, one longer than the other and it throbbed teasingly at your cold touch.

Giving it a few kitten licks, Jay groaned, glaring at you through his thick eyelashes, his entire mood changed to a humid one, anyone could walk in at you two and that feeling made his breathing heavier. His hips bucked up after you finally made a 'o' shape, welcoming him in your mouth, only the tip ...your tongue flicking at the slit, licking away the salty drops while your hand twisted up and down his shaft.

Fuck, it definitely wasn't the first time you did this....fucking whore Jays mind was snatched away from him when your real gig started, you bobbed your head up and down, saliva coating up his dick where all the blood in his body had rushed too.

Jay jo was so turned on by you, so painfully. Your alluring eyes that only sirens would behold, your sinful mouth and the way you worked yourself to pleasure him, through his dim vision, Jay caught your wrist sneaking beneath your pencil skirt, rubbing yourself even when a thin layer of leggings covered your heat. You gagged at the penetration against the center of the back of your mouth, Jays hips working together with you.

Did he just get bigger in your mouth or was it your imagination? It was getting harder to breathe with your nose solely, it wasn't going to be any easier with Jay down your throat. Sultriness was pulling Jay in, his mind was turning into mush, the liquid in your mouth, the warmth of your throat and the way your cold hand fisted the rest of his dick.

"F-fuck...you chea– Ahck!" His words were abducted from continuing when you sucked fiercer, moving your head around and your tongue swirling and whipping at him. Just as he was about to cum, you spat him out of your mouth, a bubble of saliva mixed with cum popping with an embarrassingly loud noise that echoed. You coughed a few times before speaking up,

The knot in his stomach was long gone, just seconds before it was gonna go off like fireworks and make his vision darken, eyes roll back as the muscles of his eyebrows pulled them up in pleasure. His glasses almost slid off his nose, they sat crooked there, his cheeks were reddish and it definitely wasn't a fever, the sweat glistened.

"still calling me that? Oh poor baby, couldn't cum?"

You stroked his thigh, resting your head on it as you looked up at the dishevelled Jay who was taking long, big gasps. Your painted pointer finger placed itself on top of his slit, playing with his dick, moving it back and forth, allowing the mess to slide around freely. "Fuckin' Hell... don't do that or I'll cum, yeah?" Jay stared at you with vulnerable, glossy eyes, not even mad that you cut him from his ecstasy.

The male found a grip on your head as you gave him doe eyes, purposefully making him even more feral than he was. "It's okay, i understand....you want to be fucked, right? Fucked so good...you won't even remember your name..." Your puffy, slick lips curled up seductively, running your tongue over them slowly for Jays gaze, you nodded, giving him a pleading look.

His eye twitched, he was gonna fuck that stupid face off, for humiliating him earlier and making him so chaotic at the fact that you were smarter than him. Jay knew that you were anyways, but this time, this was for his own good. He was gonna use this for a while, maybe even have you teach him a few things.

Yay, im kinda on fire lol, but i want the webtoon windbreaker tag to be about the webtoon cuz the anime has taken over lol

The last part was rushed again but im practicing to write smut so yeah

[highfantasy-soul]

omg this tension with Evan and his character arc this season is sooo juicy!!!!

spoilers for episode 9 of mismag season 2

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH

At some point, the tension is going to break and I really really hope the entire pilot program sits Evan on his ass and, since he's so concerned about people being plain with their speech, gives it to him like it is. How he's being so SHIT to his friends and at every opportunity spitting in their faces and calling them liars.

My jaw was on the GROUND when they went back to piss-berg and he accused the Quoli (spelling - who knows spelling??) of being purposefully obtuse about why he gave Evan the book and what his sad expression meant. Evan took it as "Evan's life will permanently be so sad and pathetic" and when confronted, the Quoli explained that wasn't the reason, Evan wanted answers and the book has what Evan had wanted when last he came to the island - but the whole reason the Quoli looked sad was inappropriate to tell Evan.

Like, the Quoli straight up said 'Evan, your emotional healing and self-realization has got to come from you - you can't get that shit handed to you by an outside force' and Evan threw a little tantrum.

What really made my jaw drop was when in response to Evan claiming the Quoli thought his life was all super sad and pathetic, the Quoli LOOKED TO THE OTHERS to ask if they thought Evan's depiction of his life was accurate. The others staunchly and firmly said 'no, we don't see Evan's life as just a sad, pathetic never ending cycle of depression - that's not who he is' - the Quoli looked to Evan and asked 'Do you really need ME to explain to you what your friends already know? (and just told you) or do you trust that with more time, you'll understand it for yourself?' (again, telling him - yo, you can't fast track emotional healing, but you got a whole ass support system here for you. To quote Bo Burnham: the love has got to come from YOU)

And EVAN'S RESPONSE WAS: "I don't like you. There could be clarity here and there's not. I'm not sure if that's your fault or just the nature of the world but either way, I don't have to be in a good mood about the imposition of mystery on someone who's just looking for answers."

My jaw DROPPED

Evan just heard his friends give clear and direct answers to the question he was asking and he TOLD THEM TO SHUT THE FUCK UP - THEIR THOUGHTS MEAN NOTHING, THEY DON'T KNOW SHIT AND HE WANTS A GOAT TO TELL HIM WHAT TO FEEL!!!!!!

He's claiming there's mystery and a lack of clarity but EVAN IS THE ONLY ONE OBSCURING HIS VISION!!!!

You can bring a horse to water but you for sure can't make him listen to his friends when they tell him point blank the answer to his question!

If I was Jammer, I wouldn't have just asked Evan if he was ready to go, I would have grabbed that motherfucker by the collar and drug his ass out of there and he'd be getting the cold shoulder for A WHILE

I really hope that's where his character arc is going because I get heated every time Evan insists his friends are shit and liars and 'no, no, they don't understand, I'm the most specialist boy in the whole wide world and my sadness is everything that defines and and I'm going to pretend to hate it, but every time my friends counter it, I'll ignore them and tell them they're stupid liars and retreat back into my comfortable sad boi aura that makes me feel special.'

Like, at some point, something's gotta break, right? I know K has the most to lay out for Evan in that department, but I kinda hope Jammer is right there with them because I don't think Evan will listen to K at all - he'll dismiss her as just a jilted lover who's opinion is the least among the group.

I know it's an improv show and there's no guarantee everything will pay off, but I think it'll be really good if they're able to fit it in.

---

Obviously, this isn't me dogging on Brennan and his choices while playing the game - it's a very VERY compelling and realistic look at the difficult healing journey that people who have gone through (or gone through similar) what Evan has might take.

What I will say though, on a serious note, is that if you find yourself in a relationship with someone who behaves the way Evan does, take care of yourself. Just because they've suffered unimaginable trauma doesn't mean it's ok for them to abuse you. Even if that abuse stems from their trauma, you do not have to accept being treated like that.

You cannot help someone who doesn't want to be helped. You cannot force them to drink the tonic you offer them, accept the help you give, or believe what reassurances you give them.

You cannot tell them how to view themselves - even if you think it's helping them see themselves how you believe they truly are. The belief HAS to come from them, you can't do their emotional labor for them (though many will try to make you and then have you blame yourself when it doesn't work).

Of course leave room for love and meeting people where they are, but trauma does not excuse abuse - you are not a bad person for stepping away from someone who is hurting you even if they're hurting, too.

[dylansfavwife]

cool tats

୨ৎ summary : you meet matt in the coffee shop when working

you cursed to yourself as you heard the bell ding, signalling someone had come into the store. the cold air from outside filtered in until the door closed behind them.

it was nearing the end of your shift and you were exhausted but you quickly put on a strained smile as you looked up to the customer who’d just walked in.

you’re voice faltered as you made eye contact, his blue piercing eyes hooked onto you. his hair was tousled and slight messy and his face was soft as he smiled at you. his cheeks and nose pink due to the bitter cold outside. he seemed to be in his early twenties just like you.

“wha- what would you like?” you questioned, cringing at the slight stutter in your words. he just sends you a sweet smile, filling you with butterflies.

“could i just get three pumpkin spice lattes?” he asked, his eyes having quickly flickered to the menu screen.

“yeah of course, is this to go?” you asked.

“unfortunately” he replied looking back over to the window where you could see the strong winds swaying the trees, you chuckled at his words, missing how his smile grew from your laugh.

“well uhh what’s your name” you questioned trying to hide your interest as he replied “matt”.

you smiled now much more genuinely than before, “well matt, just wait here a second and i’ll have your drinks” you explained as he simply nodded, he had just met you but something about the way you’d said his name left his heart racing.

you walked over to the coffee machine as you concentrated, all your movements precise as you made the drinks. making coffee was an easy job to you which meant you could get lost in your thoughts.

your thoughts were preoccupied with the man, matt, standing at the counter. he was insanely attractive and you cursed the world that he had to see you on a working day were you were filled with exhaustion, your eyebags prominent.

you walked back over to him, the drinks all on a drinks tray for easier carrying as you put his drinks down on the counter.

“three pumpkin spice lattes for you” you announced as he walked up smiling gratefully.

“thank you…” he paused as he read your name of your name tag, his hand coming up to push his hair out of his face nervously, you now noticed the tattoos which littered his arm and you felt entranced by them. they felt contrasting to his seemingly soft personality.

“cool tats” you complimented without thinking about it much, he laughed as he pulled out his phone to pay.

“thank you, have you got any?” he questioned his eyes flickering over your body, his clear intrigue caused you to blush as the payment transaction went through.

“oh just a little one on my hip” you explained, your voice so entrancing to matt as his eyes twinkled with intrigue. “oh yeah?” he smirked slightly as you looked away quickly, the eye contact leaving your skin burning with sensation.

“yeah, i really wanna get more though” you said starting to ramble as he chuckled again, his laugh deep and genuine.

“i think you would suit more tattoos” he complimented. you thanked him trying to hide the giant smile threatening to fill your whole face.

you both started at each for a moment, no words passed, he then quickly cleared his throat “well i should get going, my brothers are waiting for their drinks” he pointed out picking up the coffee you had now forgotten about.

“yeah of course, have a good evening” you spoke, your voice soft as he smiled. he bid you goodbye as his eyes looked you up and down once more before he walked back out into the freezing cold as snow began to fall.

as the bell dinged with his exit, did you realise you forgot to ask for his number much too caught up in the moment. you sighed unsure if you’d ever see him again.

a.n : i love writing some fluff