#everyone clap I drew a background

[viktorclawthorne]

My piece for @opanimalszine 🦈

[poibynt]

Fanart (of nothing that actually happens it’s just fanart of the vibes ig???) of @hockeyisforthegays’ jjk fic Annoying Heroine. The way this fic has possessed me body and soul, especially the Suguru & Yuuji bestism. I think about them like an unhealthy amount. Thus, I felt required to draw them having a good time (for once). + Yuuji in some mid 2000s fit I saw on Pinterest. Alt versions under the cut.

I’m aiming to draw actual fanart of the fic fanart…eventually.

[wholoveseggs]

Kinktober - {Day Twenty-Five}

{<- kinktober masterlist}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List} {Kinktober}

{Harwin Strong x whore!Reader} Request {Anon}: Kinktober request for Ser Harwin Strong, spanking please🤭🍑

♡♡♡ Yessssss anon!! I wish we had more Harwin onscreen!! Rhaenyra has TASTE ..♡♡♡

2k words - Kinks: public sex & lots of spanking ...

When a tourney was held in the city, it always led to a celebration that made the streets buzz with excitement. The taverns were packed, the ale flowed endlessly, and every brothel knew they would have a busy night. Tonight was no different, knights with heavy coin purses, drunk on victory and violence, were spilling into the streets.

Inside the brothel, the Madame clapped her hands, calling for your attention. “Alright, ladies, look alive. The winner will be flush with coin, but don’t turn down the others. They’ll want to celebrate too, so make sure you see two, three, or more.”

You nodded along with the other girls, glancing at the mirror one last time. You tightened your corset, adjusted the cut of your bodice, and arranged your hair in a way that made your eyes look bigger and more innocent than they were. Satisfaction tugged at your lips as you appraised your reflection.

Out in the large tent where the celebration was in full swing, knights were already filling every corner with their bragging, laughing, and loud toasts. The air was thick with the scent of ale, sweat, and fire-roasted meat. Music and chatter hummed in the background as you made your way through, easily falling into your rhythm, sidling up to men who sought the company of a woman. You let their hands wander as you settled on their laps, whispered encouragements and playful words, and soon your pockets grew heavy with coins.

The loudest cheer of the night came when the champion himself entered the tent. Harwin Strong. He was hard to miss, a massive man with broad shoulders, a strong jaw, and a presence that made everyone else seem smaller. He was wearing the cloak of his house, and as he moved closer, you could see the sigil embroidered into the fabric.

He settled at a table surrounded by fellow knights, their boasting continuing while Harwin mostly listened, sipping from a goblet of wine, his face relaxed and faintly amused. Something about his quiet confidence drew you in. Without thinking, your feet carried you toward him.

You curtsied when you approached, hoping to be noticed. A few of his companions turned to you first.

“Well, look what the gods have blessed us with,” one of them smirked, raising his mug. “A beauty for our champion, eh?”

Harwin glanced up at you, his eyes taking in your form with interest but no rush. “You want a drink, love?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent a spark of warmth down your spine.

You accepted the goblet he offered and smiled. “Thank you, ser.”

“Go on, sit with him,” another knight said with a chuckle, sliding a coin across the table. “Our champion deserves the best company tonight.”

Harwin leaned back in his chair, a faint smile on his lips as he watched you. The invitation was clear, so you settled on his lap, immediately aware of his strength as his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. The firmness of his thigh beneath you, the warmth of his body, it was impossible not to lean into it

“You fought well, ser,” you said, your fingers trailing along his arm, feeling the muscles under his tunic. “A well-earned victory.”

He smiled at that, the weight of his gaze resting on you. “I appreciate it,” he said, his voice low, vibrating through you as his hand tightened slightly around your waist.

"Bet she’d like to see you wield that sword of yours again, eh?" one of the knights teased with a bawdy laugh.

"Leave her be," Harwin said, though there was no malice in his voice. His fingers brushed absentmindedly along the edge of your skirts, grazing the bare skin of your thigh.

“You’re a proper gentleman,” you said with a teasing smile, letting your legs part just enough for his hand to slip higher if he wanted. He didn't move, instead watching you with a slight quirk of his lips.

He was patient and gentle, even while you tried your best to spur him on, and the longer he waited, the more your frustration grew.

The men around you continued their rowdy conversations, boasting about their feats in the tourney, their drunken voices filling the air. Harwin, however, remained focused on you. His fingers finally ventured further under your skirt, stroking your skin in slow, lazy circles. The touch was light, too light, but the promise of it made your heart race.

You shifted against him, letting him know that you welcomed his touch, but still, he took his time, his gaze never wavering.

The longer the evening went, the more you found yourself forgetting the crowd around you. Harwin’s touch was both gentle and firm, driving you to distraction as he slowly teased you under the table, never fully giving you what you wanted.

By now, the other girls had already begun to entertain their marks more openly. The tent was filled with soft gasps and moans, the sound of bodies moving together in dimly lit corners. But Harwin seemed in no rush.

His thumb finally pressed against your wet center, stroking gently while his fingers slipped inside you. Your breath caught, but the only reaction you received was a smile. He was watching you intently, studying your expression as he began to pump his fingers inside you.

You bit back a moan, gripping his tunic, your body begging for more.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "You’re quite the pretty thing, aren't you?" he murmured, his voice thick with lust as his fingers pushed deeper. "How much for a night with you?"

You swallowed a gasp "Three gold coins,"

"That's a steep price, love."

You leaned into his touch, letting your breath caress his ear. "A champion could afford me, don't you think?"

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a thrill of anticipation through you. "Is that so?" he mused, his fingers curling inside you. You bit back a moan, trying to keep yourself from moving against him, from begging him to take you here and now.

"I suppose a champion could afford to be a bit greedy." He nipped at your ear, his beard scraping your skin.

"Then take me to bed, ser," you murmured, pressing a soft kiss against his throat.

"And what about a bit rough?" he asked, his thumb pressing down on your sensitive nub. "Would you be alright with that, little dove?"

You whimpered, your hips rocking against his hand. "Please,"

He smirked, pulling away and withdrawing his fingers. The absence of his touch left you cold and wanting, but before you could complain, he rose from his seat, wrapping his cloak around your shoulders.

You could feel the jealous looks of the other women as you passed by, their envy a tangible thing. It had you grinning, knowing you were about to have a champion all to yourself.

"So, do I get to see the sword that won the day, ser?" you teased, trailing your fingers over the bulge in his trousers.

"Is that why you chose me, love?" he chuckled, his grip tightening on your waist. "You like watching men fight?"

"I like seeing men win," you replied, leaning into him. "And I like a man who can win a battle, a tournament, and a woman's heart."

He laughed, a low, warm sound that sent a tingle of pleasure down your spine.

You could barely close the door behind you when Harwin suddenly spun you around, pinning you to the wall. His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you effortlessly and pressing his hardness against your center. The feel of him, thick and hot, made your mouth water.

He claimed your lips in a searing kiss, his hands squeezing your ass and pulling you closer. His mouth was demanding, his tongue dominating yours, and all you could do was cling to him and surrender.

"That's it, love," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "I'm going to take what I want, and you're going to give it to me, aren't you?"

"Yes," you moaned, arching against him, desperate for more.

"Good girl," he murmured, his mouth trailing along your jaw, nipping at the tender skin of your throat. "Such a good little whore."

He pulled away from you and pushed the cloak off your shoulders, letting it pool on the floor.

"Take off the dress, love," he ordered, his gaze heavy with lust.

You did as he commanded, letting the gown fall to the floor, exposing yourself completely. You felt his gaze rake over your body, drinking in every inch of bare skin.

He quickly tugged off his own clothes, tossing them aside, leaving his strong, muscular body bare to your eyes. Your gaze traveled over the expanse of his chest, taking in the scars, the hard planes of his stomach, the thick shaft of his cock, and the way it twitched under your scrutiny.

He stepped closer, his hands gripping your hips, spinning you around and bending you over the edge of the bed. You felt the hard line of his cock press against your ass, and you couldn't stop the whimper that escaped your lips.

"You like that, love?" he rasped, his hands running over your curves, squeezing and groping, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. "You like it when a man takes what he wants?"

"A man like you? Yes," you moaned, rocking your hips against him.

He chuckled, and his hand came down hard on your ass. You gasped, the sting of his palm sharp but strangely satisfying.

"That's it, pretty thing," he growled, his hand coming down again, and again, spanking you with a steady rhythm that had your core aching. "Let me hear you sing."

Your fingers curled into the sheets, your breath coming in short, ragged pants. Each smack of his hand sent a wave of pleasure through you, your skin heated and sore, but still, you craved more.

You cried out, arching your back and pressing against him, silently begging for more.

He obliged, his hand coming down harder, the slap echoing in the room, and then he stopped, his calloused palms caressing your sore flesh, soothing the ache.

You could feel his cock, hard and hot, pressed against your ass, and a moan fell from your lips as he pushed into you. The stretch was exquisite, filling you to the brim, and the delicious burn made your head spin.

He let out a groan as he began to move, slow and deliberate. His hands gripping your hips and pulling you back into his thrusts.

You moaned, gripping the sheets, your body aching for more. "Please," you begged, pushing back against him, needing him deeper, harder.

The room was filled with the sounds of your cries, his grunts, and the slap of skin on skin. His hands were rough and demanding, his cock thick and hard, and you surrendered yourself to the pleasure, your body shaking with need.

Your fingers twisted into the sheets, your breath coming in short, sharp pants as he continued to thrust into you, each push bringing you closer to the edge.

You were so close, and all it took was one last rough smack, the sting of his palm causing you to shatter, crying out as the pleasure swept through you.

Harwin followed right after, pulling out just in time to spill himself across your back, his breath ragged. You collapsed onto the bed, your skin flushed and tingling from the mix of pleasure and pain.

After a moment, he leaned over, wiping his release off your back with a rag. His touch was surprisingly gentle now, a contrast to the rawness of the encounter.

"That was lovely, my lady," he said, pressing a kiss against the small of your back. "Are you alright?"

You turned, propping yourself up on your elbows, giving him a lazy smile. "Quite,"

"Good." He grinned, his eyes trailing over your form. "I shall fetch us some wine, and then we can continue our celebrations, if that suits you."

You laughed, nodding. "It certainly does."

"How much for you to stay all night?" he asked, reaching for his coin purse.

"No charge, my lord," you purred, leaning into his touch. "After all, you're the champion tonight."

He smiled, his gaze darkening with lust. "Indeed, I am.”

{<- kinktober masterlist}

[pepi1989]

Starstruck - Ben Shelton

The atmosphere backstage at the US Open was its own kind of chaotic. Between players rushing to their next match, coaches barking advice, and the constant hum of the crowds outside the stadiums, it was a whirlwind of noise and energy. Ben had just finished his warm-up and was headed toward the players’ lounge, his mind focused on his upcoming match. Or at least, it was, until he saw her.

She walked out from one of the practice courts, her tennis bag slung casually over her shoulder. Her hair was pulled back, her face still flushed from whatever grueling training she’d just finished, but she carried herself with a confidence that immediately drew his attention. Ben froze mid-step, his gaze locking on her as she moved through the hallway, completely unaware of the effect she had on him.

His heart rate, which had already been high from practice, seemed to kick into overdrive. He felt like he’d just been hit with a serve straight to the chest. For a moment, he forgot how to breathe. It wasn’t just her looks, although she was stunning, it was the way she seemed so effortlessly focused, so in her element. Like she belonged there in a way that made everyone else fade into the background.

She didn’t see him, though. Her eyes were set ahead, completely engrossed in her own world. As she walked past, her shoulder brushed his, and he swore electricity shot through him. His brain scrambled to come up with something, anything, to say, but the words died in his throat. Before he knew it, she was already halfway down the hall, her footsteps light and steady as if she hadn’t just flipped his entire world upside down.

Ben stood there, still staring, until a sharp elbow nudged him in the side.

“Dude, what’s wrong with you?” Taylor Fritz’s voice snapped him out of his daze, but Ben couldn’t pull his eyes away from where she’d disappeared around the corner.

“Who…who was that?” Ben finally managed to croak out, his voice hoarse, like he’d just run a marathon.

Taylor raised an eyebrow, glancing between Ben and the direction the girl had gone. “You mean her?” he said, a knowing smirk creeping across his face. “That’s Y/N, She’s been killing it in the women's draw. You seriously don’t know her?”

Ben shook his head, still trying to process what had just happened. Y/N. The name alone made his pulse quicken. He repeated it in his head like a mantra. He couldn’t believe he’d never noticed her before, and yet now it felt like he couldn’t stop.

Taylor chuckled, clapping Ben on the shoulder. “Good luck with that, man,” he said, his tone both amused and sympathetic. “She doesn’t pay attention to anyone. Too focused on tennis, from what I hear. She’s, like, all business,never dates, never even gives anyone a second glance. Pretty much married to her career.”

Ben’s heart sank a little, but there was a flicker of determination in his chest. The idea that she didn’t pay attention to anyone just made him more intrigued. Sure, she was focused, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have space for anything, or anyone, else, right?

Still, Taylor’s words echoed in his mind as he headed off to his match. Could he really stand out to someone like her?

Hours later, Ben was exhausted. His match had been a tough one, stretching into five sets, but he’d come out victorious. As he sat in the players’ lounge afterward, towel around his neck, mind drifting, he saw her again.

She was walking into the room after her match, her eyes downcast, focused on the floor as she made her way to grab a water bottle. He watched as she sighed, the kind of tired but satisfied look of someone who’d just left everything out on the court. There was something so grounded about her, despite the pressures of the tournament.

Ben’s heart raced again, but this time, he didn’t let the moment pass. He stood up, tossing his towel onto the chair, and made his way toward her, rehearsing what he would say over and over in his head.

As she turned to leave, he gently called out, “Hey, Y/N?”

She stopped, turning around slowly, her eyes locking with his. For a second, he thought she might just walk away, completely uninterested. But instead, she stayed, blinking at him, her expression a little wary but open.

“Yeah?” she asked, her voice soft, almost shy.

Ben was momentarily thrown off. Taylor had said she didn’t pay attention to people, that she was all business. But now, face-to-face, she seemed almost…nervous.

“I-I saw your match,” Ben stammered, his nerves getting the best of him. “You played really well out there.”

Her cheeks flushed a bit, and she smiled, though she looked away quickly, like she wasn’t used to compliments. “Thanks,” she mumbled, shifting slightly on her feet. “You did too. I, uh, caught a bit of it.”

Ben’s heart soared. She watched? He swallowed his nerves, deciding now was the time. “I know you’re super focused on tennis and all,” he began, scratching the back of his neck, “but I was wondering if maybe, uh, I could get your number? You know…for after the tournament or something. We could hang out, if you’d like.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, Ben was certain she’d turn him down. She looked even shyer now, her gaze dropping to the floor again as she considered his offer. He could feel his pulse in his ears, each second stretching on like forever.

Then, to his astonishment, she nodded, her voice almost a whisper. “Yeah… sure. I’d like that.”

Ben blinked, processing her words. She said yes? He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face as she was typing in her number before handing his phone back to him.

“Thanks,” he said, a little breathless, feeling like he’d just won the biggest match of his life. “I’ll text you.”

She smiled again, this time a little more relaxed, a little more genuine, before turning to leave. And as she walked away, Ben couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this tournament was shaping up to be unforgettable in more ways than one.

[wisteriadumster]

Stress Reliever Theatre❥John Marston

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JOHN MARSTON X FEMALE READER

CW➻❥ public intimacy⋆private sex⋆fingering⋆consensual groping ⋆handjob⋆orgasm both m! & f!⋆extreme making out/kissing✮if I missed anything pls lmk!✮

WC➻❥2,233➻❥this isn't well proof read so any mistakes or odd things are purely accidental

Summary➻❥You drag John Marston to a show in Saint Denis, to relieve his clear signs of stress. Surely nothing more than two people watching a show together right?

─────── ･｡ﾟ☆:*.☾ ·☽.* :☆ﾟ. ───────

*✧･ﾟ:* WisteriaDumster original work.*:･ﾟ✧*

─────── ･｡ﾟ☆:*.☾ ·☽.* :☆ﾟ. ───────

You’re not sure how you truly convinced John Masrton to go to Saint Denis, let alone the theater.

Yet here you are, sitting in the back row by John's request, waiting for everyone else to take their seats. His breathing was tight and heavy, large sighs leaving him often, “This show is sure to take the stress off your mind.” A hand slid onto his left shoulder, attempting a weak massage. Even in darkness you can see his blushing cheeks, “you’re too sweet on me, you know that?” His compliment forces a side smile on you,

“well you’re bad at hiding stress, I’m just helping out”.

All other whisper conversations stopped, you turned away from John and looked to the brightly lit stage. A man stepped onto the said stage, “good evening ladies and gentleman.” His red suit is extremely eye-catching, “tonight men and women of only myth will perform in front of your very eyes!” Your hand went back to your lap, the man cleared his throat. “I have sailed the seven seas to find these people only heard in the stories your children read!” Scattered laughter filled the silent crowd. A few more useless sentences and jokes were thrown into his little speech which were all the same just different words.

“I won’t keep any more of your time, please welcome the werewolf!” He bows before slipping through the curtains that matched his suit in colour.

You waited patiently before the curtains finally drew back, a thunderous drum roll made you jump. Suddenly a man with more hairs on his arm than your entire body jumped onto the stage, he let out a growl. You stared at him, not a single inch of him was hairless, well besides his face.

His beard is so long it could be made into a small towel, his hair was even longer, reaching down to his knees. John leaned close to your ear, “he reminds me of Arthur,” he jokes, making you giggle.

The Werewolf’s act was finally over, the curtains drew back, the crowd cheered over the various tricks he had done. “Are you still stressed? I hope this is helping,” You look to John, your hands gently clapping. “I mean I feel better but I could use something else.” His hand is now on your thigh, he’s nervous, it wasn’t surprising as John wasn’t much of a romantic to begin with. “What are you suggesting?” You know what he wants, but in public? You weren’t used to being intimate or even romantic in public. “We’re in the back, people came for the show, maybe we can be the next act.” His fingers begin pulling at your skirt, slowly having it scrunch up your thigh. The curtains opened again, but all your attention was on John.

Your skirt was now in your lap, his rough hand rubbing your thigh, his eyes staring at your lips, debating if he should kiss you.

Since he wouldn’t, you did. You moved in close and went for a gentle and slow kiss. He couldn’t wait, his hand leaving your thigh and going to your hair, he pulled you in close, dying for all of you he could get.

The show was merely background noise as you played with his hair, John pulling at your waist trying to get you as close as he could with the arm rests of the chair in the way.

You can't resist letting a small whimper out into John's mouth as his nails dig into your hip. "You like that?" He smirks against your lips as his hand travels down to thigh once again. This time it doesn't stay there but begins sliding up, slowly reaching to your panties.

His fingers tease with the fabric, caressing the stitching of your own work. "I like where this stress relief is going," you spoke with a gasp, eagerly impatient for his next move. He laughs before his hand finally begins to pull down your underwear, you're quick to help him.

His hand again teases you and slowly goes up your leg, you pull back from the kiss. "John Marston, when did you become such a teaser?" Your hand is playing with a button of his shirt, "when I began wondering if I should fuck you here or in the cleaning closet down the hall." His breath is hot against your ear, how did he know of the closet? Must’ve been when he was searching for a bathroom when you came to the theater. “Well while you think, can you let me be pleased before I stare at the half naked man on that stage,” your attention averts to the stage with John, only for a moment. He looks back to you and sticks two fingers in your mouth, “sure I can think about it,” his smirk is terrifying yet exhilarating.

He wraps his arm around your waist before slowly entering those two fingers. Your stomach tightens and you hold your breath as to not alert the actual enjoyers of the show. He kisses down your neck as his fingers begin to curl, every part of you was stiff as the pleasure felt impeccable.

A hand was gripping the arm rests, your knuckles were becoming light in color. His fingers are starting to gain momentum, making your game at being quiet, extremely difficult.

John notices and goes back to your face, "What if we take this to another level, make it fun." You nod to the request, his speed beginning to slow, "will I have to stay quiet?" You manage through the grit of your teeth, he thinks for a moment while his fingers slide out, "that closet is still open I'm sure." He's gentle,”let hope the walls are thick enough.” Now out of his seat standing in front of you as he helps redress you.

You were finally calm and collected, standing and pulling your skirt down. His arm wraps around your waist and guides you out into the hallway.

The hall is silent, not a sign of life. John is touching all over your body, you began to think that you might not make it to the closet.

His lips are kissing your neck, his hands groping at your ass and waist. He left you to find the closet, you peeked through into a small room of brooms and a counter. He pushed you inside and closed the door in a matter of seconds, "I can't wait." You could feel how hard he was, before turning the oil lamp on. The room was dim.

He was pushing you against the wall, his arms wrapped around you, keeping you trapped.

His nails dug into your skirt as your bodies grinded together, the intensity of his desire for you was the hottest thing you ever witnessed. His kisses were turning to bites, surely this wasn’t the John you knew, but you can’t complain because whoever this is, will be fucking you good.

His hands cup at the bottom of your ass and lifts you to the counter, "I need you so bad." His hands are already under your skirt again pulling your panties, this time pulling them off completely. He's leaning over you, aggressively kissing you, taking a moment to again wet his fingers.

He enters slow again, gradually increasing the speed, faster than when inside the actual theater. Your body almost thrusts for a moment at the sudden speed gain.

He knows what he's doing, curling his fingers at the right angle before uncurling and thrusting them back in. Whimpers and whines bounced around in the room, how did you ever manage to stay quiet in that theater? His free hand was down to the buttons of his jeans, his breath was husky and quick. He pulls from the kissing to focus on his hand, his chest rising faster than it could fall. Your body was aching as you were already climbing up to your climax, ready to give out just from his fingers alone.

You were so focused on the pleasure that everything was drowned out,yet that was short lived when his fingers left you without the delight of them. You opened your eyes and looked to him, his eyes pierced yours, he couldn't hide the smile curling at the side of his mouth.

You spit in a hand and wrapped it around his cock that you noticed just barely. A quiver left his lips suddenly at the touch.

You made sure to have every inch perfectly wet for easy entry, his head hung back.

His hand is clawing at the edge of the counter while you did quick bursts of speed. “Like that do you now?” It was exciting to see how just a simple hand job affected him so heavily.

A giggle leaves you as your hand lets go, "I'm gonna need you to do that again sometime." He laughs as well while readjusting himself, his focus back on you. His hands were tight on your thighs as he pulled you closer to the edge of the counter.

He enters slow, you gasped at the sudden feeling of being less empty. He smirked, enjoying every way you reacted to him, almost as an ego boost.

You wrap your hands in his hair, leaving him to support you, his hands wrapped around your back almost like a hug. An intimate one definitely. His pace quickens, taking no time to move his hips as well for something more than just awkward thrusting.

Your kissing out moans, a hand was now at his back for stability. It was harder to hold on as you prepared for probably the best orgasm of your life. Your nails dug into his vest, every part of you was tight as he didn’t slow or change anything, he knew better than to ruin your growing orgasm.

You had pulled from the kisses and were moaning into the base of his neck. He wasn't much quieter, plenty of groans rumbled deep from his chest. He was struggling to hold back just as much as you, it wasn't a shocker that he couldn't last long. His pace was faster, less steady but more extreme. That's when it hit, he was loud and slowed, almost stopping. The feeling of being filled to the max was just what you needed to send you over the edge. Your head hung away from him as every nerve in your body gave out. Your moans echoed throughout the closet, surely loud enough to get the attention of anyone outside in the hallway.

After the wave of pleasure washed over, your head fell onto his chest, you were both panting heavily. "Jesus that was good," John's fingers are playing with your hair. "I didn't know you were so. Skilled," you laugh, completely blown away at the fact he just did that. “Really? I don’t look good in bed?” He’s sarcastic yet it doesn’t fully seem that way, “no absolutely not.”

"We should get out of here before that show ends and a maid comes." John pulls back to grab articles of clothing off the floor. “We should do this again, some time soon.” You bite your bottom lip imagining what he could do without a time crunch. “I’ll be sure to stress myself out, just for you,” He looks up at you as he begins to slide your underwear up your legs.

He kisses up your legs and he finishes dressing you, his kisses continue, going up to your lips.

Those aggressive kisses from earlier are more: calm, simple, romantic rather than hungry, lustful, intense.

He pulls you down the counter and sets you gently on the floor, “take the lead,” he allows you to exit first, his hand smacking at an ass cheek as you push through the door. The hallway is significantly colder, the closest was almost like you had a fire set loose in it.

A man is staring at you both as you begin walking towards the exit, you turn to see John holding back a laugh. “Good day sir,” you smile before bursting into laughter, John right behind you with a loud belly laugh.

He pulled you onto his horse, “if Dutch asks let say we were trying to hunt,” he suggests getting on the horse as well. “John Marston, he would never believe a lie like that, let’s say we were simply doing a bounty.” You shake your head at the thought, “we were trying to secure a train robbery or just a job for the gang but failed.”

“Oh that’s a good one,” John begins down the street, “must be good to have some brains with you for once huh?” You wrap your hands around his waist and snuggle in close, “you want to walk back to camp?” He has a deep rumble for a laugh in his chest, shaking his head at your remark. “What kind of man are you Marston?” You observe the city and the life that passes you, “I’m a man that could go for round two on the outskirts of the city.” The horse goes from a trot to a canter. “Oh really?” You bit your lip at the thought, “I think I want to get over the lecture from Dutch for simply not following one of his plans.” And just like that you were crossing onto the bridge that led to the city.

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[writingsofwesteros]

the new episode has royally pissed me off so I've come to escape into the lovely au, and so, here's the twins' first steps-

"All I'm saying is that we can totally buy an island," Aegon shrugged as bestie rolled her eyes. "Aeg, you can't just buy an island," Bestie insisted. It was a Saturday- Aemond was home from work, and bestie and Hel made everyone pancakes for breakfast. They were all having a home day and tomorrow as Sunday lunch at Dragonstone. "Aem, can't we buy an island?" Aegon looked at him, and Hel and Daella giggled as Aemond looked seriously contemplative. "I suppose. Mother kinda went crazy that year Nora tried to leave and move to Lys, and almost bought an island on her anxiety induced shopping spree, so." Aemond shifted Jaehaerys who was about to climb in Rhaegal's dog bed. Bestie shook her head, as Aegon said, "Y'see? Anyway, I'm just saying- Sunfyre!" Aegon groaned as Sunfyre tottered off with his sock. Jaehaera giggled on Aegon's lap, and said, "Sock- Sunfwyre sock!"

"Sock!" Jaehaerys repeated after her, as the twins warmed everyone's hearts again. "Anyway, you still haven't said if you're gonna take the call from your dad." Nora said seriously. "Oh, I ran that background check you wanted," Aemond handed Aegon a file from his briefcase on the table. "You had background check ran on my father?" Bestie asked. Aemond shrugged, and Aeg said, "You said he's a bad guy, babe. Gotta keep you safe and sound." "If he's as bad as you say, then maybe it's safer to keep a distance," Hel suggested gently as the twins crawled around. "I guess- I dunno," Bestie sighed. "If only there was a sign- these things are so tricky," Daella said softly. "A sign that I should just leave it all behind, forget about him and the shit he did, I-" Bestie paused. "Sock," Hera said, as she pushed herself off the ground for the first time, and everyone gasped. "Oh my gods!" Nora gasped.

"That's my girl!" Aegon shouted, clapping as he picked her up.

Sunfyre's little squeak drew their attention, as they saw Jae attempting to follow his twin, and pick up Sunfyre too. "Come on buddy," Aemond encouraged. "That's it, son, you got this," Jaehaerys stood fully, and took a few steps before Helaena caught him, and everyone cheered. The twins squealed and babbled under the attention, as everyone peppered them with kisses as Sunfyre ran around them, poor pup catching the zoomies from everyone's joy.

ADORE THIS! You made everyone's day with this snippet ;)

Aegon will buy this island one of these days thats for sure.

I love how Jae is just following his sister

[hiro-doodlez]

MORE INK WEEEEE HEAHSNSNSN hes so moldable he has every hair style ever because hair is fun MUAHHAHAHAA

Anyways i color picked this from a sunset image i found on google, also messing with brushes n stuff because WHY THE HECK NOT

Also heres the background under the cut because HOLY SHIT I DREW A BACKGROUND everyone clap everyone cheer /j

[ink-flavored]

“Have you met me? I’m Pride. Being full of myself is the point.”

CHARACTER INTRO: PRIDE & JUSTICE

Name: Pride, Root of All Sin

Pronouns: he/him

Being: Demon

[character playlist]

Art by @auroblaze​, stock photos from Unsplash and Pexels

Background:

A forgotten soul wept alone in Purgatory.

No tears stained their distraught face. They had no body to shed them—just an approximation of the body they once had, a shimmering gray shadow of a form. They were less than a memory, and every echoed sob played back in their ears to remind them of it.

No one from their life would be alive to remember them. Everyone was where they belonged, except they never got to follow. They never reached a resting place, neither gate nor pit awaited them at the end. Just an endless plane of twisting gray forests, curling mists, and other lost souls, just as distraught. Being stuck for centuries sapped most of their hopes of ever getting out. Comfort was beyond any of them.

So the forgotten soul did the only thing they could do, and grieved. Alone on a stump in the middle of a sea of woodland, they sobbed into their hands over what could have been. Few other souls wandered near. Those that noticed didn’t slow down. It was fine. The forgotten soul preferred it that way. They’d rather cry alone than be offered half-hearted words of encouragement they both knew were lies.

With a shuddered gasp, they lifted their head to wipe their unstained cheeks. The instinct from the faint memory of life compelled them more than the logic of this place, as it was all they had left. The dark trees loomed overhead, tightly packed, dense with leaves and shadow. Staring into the dark, the soul hiccupped to silence.

Two glowing red eyes stared back.

They froze, choked by fear. They’d been spotted by someone—something—so what more could they do? What was it? Did creatures hunt through the forests of Purgatory? Was it possible to die twice?

The eyes bobbed closer. Leaves rustled like an ocean wave, building to a crackling crescendo. Heavy steps thudded like war drums. Dark black smoke, heavier than the thin mists of Purgatory, spilled out from between the trees. As it drew nearer and nearer, the soul realized it was much bigger than it first looked. The two eyes rose taller and taller and—more eyes blinked open. Three, six, seven?

Shakily, the soul stood from its stump. The thing got closer, the smoke poured faster and thicker, creeping across the ground toward them. They tried to run, but a hand clapped over their shoulder. It clamped tighter the more they tried to fight it off—

“Hey, take it easy, will you?”

The hand released and the soul tripped into the dirt. They scrambled around to stand up, preparing to run or fight or do something, but found themselves stuck doing nothing. In place of a monster or beast there was a person. Or something that looked very much like one.

He stood unnaturally solid against the hazy landscape of Purgatory—evidence of a soul preserved and powerful. A sandy complexion contrasted starkly against his dark clothes, rough and torn at the edges. His hair was half-pulled against his scalp, a deep black, but held a few inches of honey-blonde at the roots like a bad disguise. A scruffy goatee perched below his unimpressed frown.

“Last time I ever try to introduce myself,” he muttered, boots kicking up dust. He plopped down on the abandoned stump and stretched out like he’d been sitting there all along. “Seriously, what does a guy have to do to get respect around here?”

The forgotten soul watched him warily, standing perfectly still. He could have been human, if it weren’t for the curved horns breaching the front of his scalp, bone-white and coughing smoke. A thin whip-like tail with a curved barb draped over the stump to twitch at his feet. It wasn’t hard to deduce what kind of creature he was.

“You gonna say something?” he asked, and the soul caught their non-existent breath. “I know I’m easy on the eyes, but I usually like to know your name first.”

“I don’t remember it,” the soul replied. A pang of grief threatened to bring their false tears back.

The irritation on his face melted away into a soft sympathy. “Damn. Already forgot, huh?” He gestured with a hand. “Come on, sit down with me.”

They didn’t move. “You’re a demon. Aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” He grinned with too-sharp teeth. “And?”

“I don’t trust you.”

“Pfft. If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it already.”

If that beast and this demon were the same creature, the soul had no trouble believing that. What could harming a soul in Purgatory be worth to a demon who had thousands of souls to torture back in Hell? But what would a demon be doing in Purgatory anyway?

“Trust me or not,” the demon said, “I’m not going anywhere. So feel free to leave if you want to stay alone and miserable.”

The soul pursed their lips, temper piqued. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Oh, nobody does. Who would? I’m a forgettable piece of existence, just like you.”

“We’re nothing alike.”

He tilted his head. “No? Then what are you doing in Purgatory?”

“I—!” They swallowed the lump in their non-existent throat. “I don’t know.”

“Of course you don’t. You’ve been promised eternal rest, and the Almighty throws you down here to rot instead. You think I don’t know what that feels like?”

The soul shifted on their feet. Everyone in Purgatory was miserable. There wasn’t much lively conversation. This demon might not be trustworthy, but he might be nice to talk to for a little while. To get everything off their chest. Cautiously, the soul wandered over to the stump and sat down.

The demon nudged them with an elbow. “What are you in for?” he asked.

It was a strange way to ask the question, but they answered, “I wasn’t pure enough for Heaven. I’m here to repent until I can—”

“No, no, no. I know that.” He put a hand on the stump, leaning in close. “What are you in for?”

I don’t know, they almost answered, but it wouldn’t be true. “I was turned away because I… took my own life. Back when I was alive.”

“Wow. They’re still doing that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing, I just figured they would have gotten rid of that rule by now.” The demon tsk­ed and shook his head. “Can’t do a damn thing right up there, can they?”

“All life is property of God, and destroying it is blasphemy.” At least, that’s what the soul remembered from life. And what they’d been told before being turned away from the gates.

“You know who makes those rules?” The demon pointed up at the gray sky, thin brows raised.

“God?”

“Exactly. He can change them any time He wants. But He doesn’t. And what good does keeping this one around do, exactly?”

The soul didn’t answer because it didn’t have one. They were sent to Purgatory to repent, to be re-judged by God when they understood the gravity of their sin, but they didn’t understand.

“Think about it,” the demon pressed. “It’s not like you were thinking about how much you wanted to get back at Him. I bet you weren’t thinking about Him at all.”

“I just wanted to get out,” the soul admitted. They hugged their own chest, and the demon put a comforting arm around their shoulders.

“You needed a change—you needed help. And where was your guardian-fuckin’-angel when you needed it, huh? Nowhere. All those dipshits up there don’t care about us. They care about staying in charge. Staying worshiped.”

The soul sniffed, glancing at him. “What did you do?”

“I tried to change things. They didn’t like that too much. Left me to boil alive in a river of fire. How’s that for mercy?”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, I got used to it. I’m living large if I do say so myself.”

“Really?”

“Damn straight. And it means I can help people like you before you’re gone. Us forgettable pieces of existence have to stick together, right?”

The grin on his face was infectious, and the soul found themselves smiling on instinct. “Before we’re gone? To Heaven?”

“Before you fade. Obviously, I can’t help you after that, but until then I’m your man.”

“What’s fading?”

His smile flickered out. “You don’t know? How long have you been down here?”

Suddenly apprehensive, the soul tore through what little memory they had. “I—I don’t know. At least a century?”

The demon drew back, eyes wide. “Then you don’t have much time left.”

“What do you mean? Time until what?”

A grave shadow pulled his features together sharply. He took their hand and layered it over his own. It was nearly translucent, his skin and fingers clearly visible through their own.

“You’re fading,” the demon explained. “In Heaven and Hell, a soul lasts forever. In Purgatory—not so much. You lose memories, your name, who you are. Eventually, there’s not going to be much of you to send… anywhere.”

Dread seized the forgotten soul. A mousetrap snapped over their non-heart and squeezed it in half. They snatched their hand back and held it up to their face, against the trees. Horrified, they saw the branches and leaves through their palms, wrists, and arms. They saw the stump clearly through their legs and hips.

“I’m fading,” they whispered, dizzy and panicked. “I’m going to die again?”

“Not if you can get somewhere else first,” the demon reassured, but the soul barely heard him.

“My family, they haven’t seen me since… And they never will?”

“Oi!” The demon jerked them around. “You got family in Heaven? Friends?”

“Yes?”

“Perfect. I can get you to them.”

The confidence of that promise slapped the soul out of their stupor. “What? How? You’re a demon!”

“I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly on my home turf. I’ve been sneaking around for a long time. I know how to get in and out of that place, and I can bring you with me.”

For the first time in a century, the soul found a glimmer of hope in those words. Something other than hollow misery and wallowing. “Really?”

“Sure can. You won’t be awake for the trip, but we can leave right now if you want.”

They nodded vigorously. “Yes! As soon as we can.”

The demon hopped off the stump like he had springs in those boots, and the soul followed with joy. Someone was going to help them—someone was going to pay attention to them at last, after more than a century of nothing.

“Oh, one last thing,” the demon said. “Just one, quick question I need to ask you.”

“Anything,” they said.

He smiled again, in that easy, friendly way, and put out a hand to shake. And maybe it was just their imagination, but the forgotten soul could have sworn his eyes flashed red.

“Do we have a deal?”

[hanayori89]

No Woman Beyond (Epilogue)

*DISCLAIMER* This is the official ending of this fanfic and also the PG-13 version. The next post will be the alternative smutty ending so this is totally the readers prerogative. Thanks for reading my work! I hope you enjoyed this little fairytale of the Hero of Time and the contest of his heart (Which was none other than you dear reader ;)*

Applause was rampant throughout the audience. 

After your waltz with Link, you both unwillingly broke away. The taste of each other fresh on both of your lips. You whisked your glances towards each other, awaiting the announcer to rally the crowd. 

Which from the looks of things would be no easy feat. 

There were girls sobbing over the hero's declaration of true love. Men winced from the immense scolds of lonely housewives throughout the crowd.

"How come YOU never kiss me like that?" 

"You didn't even say things like that on our wedding day!"

"Seems like Link is also the hero of romance. Someone needs to show these men how to treat their wives!"

Link gave you an unsteady glance. "How did I save Hyrule, only to destroy it again?" You couldn't help but chuckle and slip your hand within his. Hollers and accolades were still making rounds throughout the crowd. Some grotesque profanities were being yelled by sore losers. Then there were also some shouts of encouragement...

"Thank Hylia! If you two didn't kiss, I would have come up there and shoved your heads together!" You traced the rowdy, feminine voice to Malon. She sat on Epona, clapping midair. "Kiss again!" She began to chant as others started to join in. 

Link began to furiously blush as he sheepishly turned towards you. He pulled you into him once again. A feeling you decided you could never tire of. The announcer stood in the background, clearing his throat. "It seems the hero has made his decision."

Link didn't bother to answer as he drew you into his lips once more. Your kiss was the ultimate hero's welcome. Something that had motivated him to prevail along his journey. You both parted in reverence as you heard Zelda begin to give a statement. You glanced up for a moment to see the same sadness from earlier in the bathroom. It settled like an unwelcomed guest amongst her pleasing features. She would never get to experience what you would. It all seemed so unfair. Everyone deserved to know love.

Zelda made her way to both of you, turning towards Link. "I know what it is you think hero and I do not want your pity. For the love of my kingdom invigorates me. I will say this; I do hope in part the goddesses shall bless me with a marriage that has the tenderness and temerity you both displayed today. " Link simply nodded, bowing at Zelda. So, he had noticed the same despondent princess you had seen. You had never thought of it from Link's perspective. He fought to save Hyrule so we all may have peace and the quality of life we deserve. Yet Zelda can never possess what he fought hard to give everyone else. Link, at the very least, got to return to reap the fruits of his labor. Zelda will never reap those fruits, as her labor is never ending. 

Then Zelda turned her attention towards you, giving you a gentle once over. Her eyes seemed to rest on the three spiritual stones that were pinned to your hair. "You would do the hero and Hyrule proud. You have my blessing. Let us hope that the goddesses never thrust upon him another cruel task. Such as the one he has just endured." 

"Princess," you began but were met by Zelda's hard gaze. "I mean, Zelda. I understand that my love does not come without hardship. Whatever the goddesses have in store; I shall be there to fight alongside my husband." Link's grip on your hand tightened. Comforting caresses of circles were being thumbed on the back of your hand. He gave you a stern expression, "I will not allow you to fight alongside me. I will not allow you to be subjected to such danger." 

"And you should be subjected to it alone? You seem to forget the whole kingdom was subjected to it. What difference does it make if I help you fight? You've seen I have been honing my skills." Defensiveness began to seep through your tone. "As long as I breathe you will never fight alone, Link."

Link continued to caress delicate circles on the back of your hand, in an attempt to calm you. "You have improved immensely. I am so proud of not only your skill, but the fact you took initiative. But just because you can wield fire doesn't mean you should have to walk amongst the flames." 

Zelda chuckled, "It seems you two have a lot to discuss. I offer my congratulations. May destiny deliver happiness and longevity amongst the dearly betrothed. And of course..." a wry smile appeared on her face. "An heir. May the goddesses proclaim!" With a swift bow to us both, she sauntered away to begin making her rounds amongst the audience. 

You turned to look at Link, his eyes already on you. "You sure you don't want to go chase Zelda? Malon? Aren't you already engaged to Princess Ruto? Now is your chance, hero."

Link erupted in laughter, pulling you back into his brawny body. The way you were meant to be. He held your face in between his hands, pressing his nose lovingly against yours. 

"Please, don't call me hero. I'm just Link. Your Link. Now and forever. And if anyone is a hero, it would be you. Whether you realize it or not, you have saved me so many times. You are the reason I was able to save Hyrule. I couldn't have done it without you." He twirled his fingers in some of your loose tendrils of h/c hair. His mouth so close to yours, his breath tickled your lips. 

"There is no one I want to chase, but you. My wife, "he made sure to emphasize wife. Hearing it sent a jolt through you.

"There isn't a woman in Hyrule or beyond that I could love the way I love you."

    **The End**

Wattpad and other fanfics below 👇🏻

[ezamevolni]

Traces: Too loud

When they literally exposed themselves and everyone panicked.

BTS Preview Comeback Show in LA (2018)

Jk: "I'm going to finish the dance with a special one" (42:37)

Jin: if I stay quiet, nobody will know it's me. ...until we perform on BBMAs later and the countless stages after

Summer Package in Korea (2019)

I'm surprised not more people are hyping this one up.

"...Even if you and I break up, you will still be left inside of me."

??????

Still - Jeon Jungkook

You are the hottest among the four seasons. I see you once a year. But you are so strong that you stay in my memory the longest All the moments I spent with you still come to be vividly And even if you and I break up, you are still left inside me. And it is still hot.

Bro, this is a whole love letter. And just me or are we seeing parallels between Still and Stay?

Also Jin, who we can hear going 'Oh...oh...ah...' while Jk was reciting. Supportive yeobo, we love.

Btw don't let the editors mislead you with the subtitles. Jk was stuttering while explaining the drawing so he didn't finish his sentence nor did he say he drew himself. Look at the hairstyle. He obviously drew rap Jin.

The members made no comments on the actual content of Jk's poem and focused only on his drawing.

And back to "...It's still hot" he says.

Good for them.

Bon Voyage 4 in New Zealand (2019)

Maybe everyone already knows this one, but it will always be mildly shocking to me that the editors included the part where Jk specified that the flying kiss was for Jin.

We have Min Suga's lovely GoPro capturing the moment in the background.

I have suspicions that the main cameras weren't filming Jinkook at this moment which was why their guards were down and had this candid convo.

We love you, ARMY vlive (2020)

Another day, another live broadcast jam-packed with Jinkook love. But this moment lives rent free in my brain:

Then Jimin's reaction to Jin saying "I love you" 3 times to Jk:

In Korean, he didn't actually specify "I" while speaking so he meant it more along the lines of "Is it because (they) haven't slept and are drinking?". Also, he tilted his head at Jinkook when asking the question.

To which RM awkwardly replied "Getting tipsy(maybe)?" and Jhope hastily moved it along by clapping and shouting "Congratulations!".

At this point, what do we do with the people who are still giving excuses or blatantly ignoring them? Yeah I already know that shipping is a delulu pill but like, at least look at them and what they're literally telling us.

Use a different angle to look at them and everything will immediately match up.

(The year of the Black Rabbit is coming~ Wooohooo)

[thepermanentrainpress]

CONCERT REVIEW: YUNG GRAVY AND BBNO$ AT PNE FORUM - DECEMBER 16TH, 2022

Yung Gravy and bbno$ brought playfulness and style to the PNE Forum for the last show of “Baby Gravy, The Tour.” Yung Gravy has become a cultural phenomenon, taking social media by storm. Naturally, concertgoers assembled their bras and mothers to fling at the entertainer. Co-headliner and Vancouver-born bbno$ (baby no money) has also produced many massive hits, making for an arsenal of energizing tracks.

Freddie Dredd, another Canadian musician, opened the show and shared his gritty, electronic lo-fi. His musical aesthetic is mischievous and sinister. A stone’s throw away from other acts who have carved out a darker image (think Suicideboys, Ghostemane and BONES). The tracks he performed included “Evil Fantasy,” “Limbo,” “GTG” and “Treachery.” Freddie Dredd's performance was intense and speedy, an interesting contrast to the more vibrant headliners.

During the intermission, DJ Tiiiiiiiiiip took music requests from the crowd via Instagram. Performing alongside a Google Docs slide presentation that prompted the crowd to sing along and clap their hands, he played a range of artists, including Panic! at the Disco, ABBA, and XXXTentacion. “Time to get emo,” announced DJ Tiiiiiiiiiip, who then proceeded to put on Sean Kingston’s “Beautiful Girls.”

After the crowd warmed up, Yung Gravy and bbno$ took to the stage. They blasted “Welcome to Chilis” and “touch grass” while vintage, Betty Boop-esque cartoons were screened in the background. Both Gravy and bbno$ wore all-white outfits, and the atmosphere felt fun and trendy. I have never seen so many tall men congregate in the same place, making it challenging to take decent pictures for this review.

Yung Gravy dazzled the crowd with his swoon-worthy deep voice and hilarious antics. He largely drew from his Gasanova and Marvelous albums, with performed tracks including “Dancing in the Rain,” “Gravy Train,” “Mr. Clean,” “oops!,” and “Betty (Get Money).” Gravy’s music cleverly sampled sounds from the 80s. This was also reflected in visual choices for the tour. Scenes from The Sound of Music, Grease and other advertisements from the 80s were played at the back of the stage. Gravy encouraged the crowd to throw around water during his set and threw roses at the crowd at one point. He announced that he would donate all the bras thrown on stage and pay $50 per bra to a charity.

bbno$’s set was striking and lively, demonstrating his versatility as an artist. From the gentle “help herself,” to the bouncy “who dat boi” and the tense “top gun,” there was a song for everyone. Neon animations played alongside the brightly dressed bbno$. Of course, bbno$ performed “edamame” and “lalala,” popular party songs that have garnered hundreds of millions of streams.

Yung Gravy and bbno$ teamed up for many songs during the concert, including the groovy “Welcome to Chilis,” the potent and experimental “shining on my ex,” and flashy “Whip a Tesla.” The dynamic duo ended the night with “C’est La Vie,” a confident and feel-good tune. bbno$ brought out his parents during the song – a wholesome moment during the risqué night.

With smart visuals and contagious songs, Yung Gravy and bbno$’s “Baby Gravy, The Tour” is a major collaborative effort that pays off. Retro influences infused with youthful charisma made for a pleasurable and exciting experience.

Written by: Jenna Keeble

[xxcapybaragamingepic1337xx]

i drew a simple background everyone cheer and clap for me

[winxanity-ii]

PRETTY

ship: bakugo x fem!reader warnings: non-explicit word count: 3.6k a/n: ignore me y'all, i'm going through my old prompts i made when i was 12, so if it's all fluffy mushy, and dont make sense, thats why lolollo.

★·.·´🇲‌🇾‌ 🇭‌🇪‌🇷‌🇴‌ 🇦‌🇨‌🇦‌🇩‌🇪‌🇲‌🇮‌🇦‌/🇧‌🇳‌🇭‌🇦‌/🇲‌🇭‌🇦‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

You stood at the podium, the final words of your valedictorian speech echoing across the vast gymnasium, the packed audience before you nothing but a blur of faces.

The pride that had always been present in your voice remained steady, carrying each syllable with practiced precision. Yet, under the surface, exhaustion weighed you down.

Your shoulders felt tense beneath your graduation gown, and even though you wore a smile, your teeth were clenched.

You had done it—the valedictorian of your class, head coordinator of the school's event committee. The one who never seemed to stumble, who never had a moment of weakness. A shining example of high school success, a product of late nights and a will that refused to bend.

But behind that façade, you were falling apart.

"...and to my classmates, I wish you all success and fulfillment. Congratulations, Class of 2024!" you concluded, and your smile remained plastered, your hands feeling clammy as polite applause rang out.

You stepped back from the microphone as the principal approached with a nod and an encouraging clap on your shoulder. They gestured for you to move offstage. The bright lights overhead faded into the background, and the heavy red curtain drew a wall between you and everyone else.

Out of the spotlight, you allowed the mask to slip—just for a second.

No one was paying attention to you anymore. They were too caught up in celebrating the moment, applauding themselves, their friends, the ceremonial pomp of it all. Not like you had anyone out there who'd be focusing on you, anyway.

Since freshman year, you'd earned the reputation of being the "smart, cold loner kid." It wasn't completely unearned—you always stayed on top of your work, prioritizing your academics above all else.

You never pressured anyone to be like you, but you also didn't go out of your way to make connections. You had a small group of friends, but you never talked to many people outside of that circle.

When you eventually fell out with those few friends—mainly because they felt academically inferior to you—it wasn't hard for the label to stick. You didn't feel like disrupting it; you didn't want to force anything. And so, the persona of the "cold loner" settled in, unchallenged.

Your hands were trembling. It started as a small twitch, but now your fingers wouldn't keep still, and they gave way to shaking, unsteady motions.

You couldn't help the wry thought that flashed through your mind. Mom's spaghetti, huh?

You sucked in a shaky breath. Not now.

You turned your body slightly, pressing yourself back against the wall behind the curtain, trying to ground yourself away from prying eyes. Your breaths were coming in too quickly, your heart hammering away inside your chest, erratic and heavy.

You needed to get a handle on this—no one could see you like this, especially not now.

This wasn't part of the plan.

Closing your eyes, you inhaled deeply through your nose.

Another deep breath, then another.

You tried to hum under your breath, an upbeat tune you made up on the spot, to drown out the awful thudding of your heart. The rhythm of the song helped—a shaky melody to fill your senses. It wasn't much, but it was something.

When was the last time I told you how (pretty you, pretty you are)

You dug your nails into your palms, pressing down in time with the humming. The small sting of pain cut through the fog in your head, enough to make you focus.

But even with your eyes squeezed shut, you failed to notice the one pair of eyes that had stayed on you—sharp, unwavering, concerned.

Minutes passed—they felt like hours—but eventually, you managed to slow your breathing.

You opened your eyes and forced that polite, practiced smile back on. You could feel the remnants of exhaustion clinging to you, but at least you weren't shaking anymore.

Good enough. You had to keep moving.

You stepped out from behind the curtain, letting the crowd's noise wash over you again, though it felt muffled, distant.

Everything around you seemed unreal—the flashes of cameras, the muffled cheers, the proud tears in parents' eyes. You moved on autopilot, your body mechanical as you walked, your head nodding politely at people congratulating you, though their words barely registered.

For now, you just kept walking, your diploma in your hands, face blank. You had done it. You were supposed to feel proud, fulfilled, happy even.

But all you felt was emptiness.

The line for the diplomas was divided by last names: A-J, K-R, S-Z. You found yourself at the front since you were on stage earlier, the first in line for your group.

You knew how chaotic things were about to get—students pushing, parents crowding in to snap pictures, the general mess of it all—so you tried to take control of at least the line you were in.

You turned around, your voice firm but not unkind as you called for everyone to stay in line. "Hey, everyone, let's try to keep it organized. It'll be faster if we all stay in line and don't bunch up," you reasoned, projecting your voice over the growing crowd. Some students looked annoyed, but a few nodded, understanding the logic.

"Yeah, makes sense," someone muttered, and the line began to straighten out. To your surprise, they listened, at least for a while.

For a few moments, there was some semblance of order, and you felt a tiny bit of relief. "Thanks, guys," you said, offering a polite nod, the tension in your shoulders easing just a fraction.

Then she bumped into you. Hard.

You turned, your gaze locking onto the girl who had once been your friend—Emily. Her eyes glinted with something that wasn't quite hate, but it was close. She sneered, her lips curling upward in a way that made your stomach churn.

"Still trying to be everyone's hero, huh?" she muttered, her voice dripping with disdain.

You clenched your jaw, exhaustion and stress bubbling up, the noise of students and parents swirling around you, the pressure pressing in on all sides. You tried to swallow it down, tried to let it go, but the overstimulation—the chaos, her voice, the day—was too much.

You didn't respond right away, your teeth grinding as you tried to stay calm. But the sneer on her face, the way she looked at you like you were nothing, like all your effort meant nothing—it pushed you over the edge.

"Maybe if you actually put in the effort, you wouldn't need someone else to keep you in line," you finally snapped, your voice low but laced with venom, your eyes narrowing. Her eyes widened, her sneer faltering for just a second, and you pressed on, unable to stop yourself. "But I guess it's easier to stand around and complain, right? Must be nice not having to try."

For a second, it looked like she might say something—her mouth opened, her cheeks flushed red. The tension between you hung heavy, the noise around you fading into the background.

You almost felt bad, almost wanted to take it back, but then she scoffed, and the glare returned. You turned away before she could say anything else, before the temptation to argue further could take hold.

You heard her scoff again, felt her glare on your back, but you didn't care. You had bigger things to deal with than her petty jabs.

You stormed away, your footsteps echoing in the hallway as you left the chaos behind. Your hands were trembling again, your heart pounding, but you kept your head high, refusing to let anyone else see just how close you were to breaking.

The stage was empty now, everyone else having moved out towards the parking lot for pictures and gifts.

You found yourself gravitating towards it, the familiarity of the space comforting in a way you couldn't quite explain. The lights were dim, the curtains drawn back, and for the first time since the ceremony began, you were truly alone.

Your composure shattered.

Tears welled up, spilling over as you pressed your hands to your face, your shoulders shaking.

You tried humming that tune again, the one that had calmed you earlier, but it felt hollow now, the melody lost in the storm of emotions crashing over you.

Your hands itched for your headphones—you had almost grabbed them earlier during your panic attack, but you hadn't wanted to draw attention.

Now, you wished you had them—something to drown out the noise in your head. Instead, you cupped your hands over your ears, trying to muffle the world around you.

It wasn't working.

You hummed louder, your voice breaking as you rocked back and forth. The tears wouldn't stop, your breaths coming in short, uneven gasps. "I'm okay," you whispered, your voice cracking. "I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay." The words were supposed to make you feel stronger, supposed to convince yourself that you could get through this. But right now, they felt empty, a fragile shield against the overwhelming weight of it all.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a scent—familiar, comforting.

You froze, your humming faltering as the smell surrounded you, warm and grounding.

Slowly, cautiously, a pair of hands covered yours, warm palms pressing gently against your skin. The touch was light, giving you the chance to pull away if you wanted, but you didn't.

You took a shaky breath, the scent filling your senses, and you muttered his name. "Bakugo?"

You opened your eyes, blinking away the tears, and there he was; Bakugo Katsuki, standing in front of you, his lips quirking up into a small smirk.

It wasn't his usual cocky grin—there was something softer there, something almost gentle. His eyes, though still intense, held none of their usual edge.

For a moment, you just stared, your heart stuttering in your chest. Your crush—the one person you thought would never even notice you—was here, smiling at you, and for a second, it felt like the world had stopped.

He looked so good, the light catching in his golden hair, his eyes locked on yours, and you couldn't help the way your thoughts spun out of control. He's here. He's really here. He smells so good and—

Your brows furrowed as you realized he was speaking, his lips moving, but the words weren't registering. You blinked, your gaze dropping to his lips, trying to catch up. "Is he...?" you mumbled, still dazed.

Slowly, you dropped your hands, his following, allowing his voice to finally break through, the words matching the melody you had been humming.

"—when I first met you, I told you how pretty you... pretty you are."

The words were soft, almost a whisper, and you caught the tail end of the lyrics, your mind struggling to catch up.

For a moment, you were confused, the words echoing in your head until realization struck—you knew those lyrics.

You blinked up at Bakugo, his lips still moving to the quiet melody of your song.

The rough edges of his voice surprised you. It wasn't perfect—not in the way singers on the radio sounded—but it was real. Raw. The same notes you had hummed to yourself for years, whenever the pressure became too much to bear.

How long had he been listening? The thought made your breath catch in your throat. You were so used to thinking no one noticed you. That you were just... there. Even when you tried to stand out, it felt like people saw the success, not the person behind it.

But Bakugo—he saw you.

He must've heard you humming during those endless study sessions, maybe even in the hallways between classes. All those times you thought you were alone in your anxiety, he had been there, taking in every detail.

And now, he was standing in front of you, singing the one thing that had always grounded you.

The realization hit like a wave, crashing over the walls you'd built around yourself for so long.

He noticed. He had always noticed.

Even when you thought you were invisible to him—to everyone—he had been watching, quietly, in the background.

Your breath caught, your eyes widening as you looked at him; you really looked at him. He wasn't mocking you; he wasn't teasing. He was grounding you, just like you had tried to ground yourself.

You could hardly believe it. All this time, you thought you were the one who kept your distance, but maybe... maybe you weren't the only one afraid of being vulnerable.

Your thoughts drifted, pulling you back to the first time you had met him. It had been during your freshmen year when you transferred into the school.

Everyone else had known each other since their younger years, so they all knew Katsuki, but to you, he had been just another face in a sea of unfamiliar people.

🇫‌🇱‌🇦‌🇸‌🇭‌🇧‌🇦‌🇨‌🇰‌:

It was a free day since the teacher was sick and the substitute was late, and most of the class was empty—only a few students, including Katsuki and his friends, were there, goofing off to pass the time.

You had been sitting at your desk, nose buried in a book with your headphones on, the music drowning out the noise around you. You didn't pay much attention to their conversation until the room erupted in laughter and teasing.

One of Katsuki's friends had asked him who he thought was the prettiest girl in their year. At first, he had refused to answer, calling it a stupid and shallow question.

"Come on, Bakugo! You gotta have someone in mind!" one of them had insisted, nudging him with a smirk.

"Yeah, Katsuki! Quit being such a hardass and just tell us," another had added, the teasing relentless.

Katsuki's jaw clenched, clearly annoyed, but after a moment, he let out an irritated sigh. "If you must know..." he grumbled, his eyes doing a lazy sweep of the room before settling on you for just a second.

You hadn't noticed, too caught up in your reading, but the sudden whooping and hollering from the boys had made you look up, startled and confused.

"He said you're pretty!" one of them had called out, his voice loud and teasing, drawing even more attention to you.

Your gaze had dropped to the floor, your face heating up in embarrassment. You could feel all their eyes on you; the attention almost unbearable. "Ah... thank you," you had murmured, your voice barely audible as you gave a shy smile, peeking up through your lashes.

It was the first smile they had seen from you, and it had stunned the entire group into silence; their breaths caught at the sight of it. Even Katsuki had been caught off guard, his eyes widening before a faint pink flush dusted his cheeks.

"Whoa, did she just smile?" one of them had whispered, his voice full of awe. "Dude, I think I just died a little bit."

Katsuki had quickly looked away, scowling to hide his embarrassment. "Not a big deal," he had muttered, his tone gruff, his eyes narrowing as his friends continued to cackle. "Not like I said I was in love with her, you idiots."

"But you think she's pretty, huh?" another one of his friends had teased, nudging him with an elbow.

"Shut up!" Katsuki had snapped, his face flushing even darker. His irritation only made his friends laugh harder, their voices echoing through the nearly empty classroom.

You had been unsure how to react, your fingers trembling slightly as you clutched your book tighter. You hadn't expected the attention, hadn't expected to be singled out by someone like Bakugo Katsuki.

First the teacher was late, then the substitute, and now this—a guy who was not only easy on the eyes but apparently an athlete, someone people looked up to, found you attractive? It was overwhelming, and heat flooded your face as you ducked your head, staring at the floor.

You didn't want to leave his compliment unacknowledged. Mustering whatever courage you had, you spoke up, your voice still quiet. "Thank you," you repeated, a little firmer this time, your eyes flicking up to meet his for just a second before darting away again.

Katsuki had grumbled something under his breath, his friends still teasing him, but that moment had stuck with you.

The first real connection you had made, even if it was small, even if it wasn't much. It had been enough to replay in your mind, over and over again, a memory that lingered with a warmth that surprised you.

Now, standing in front of him, his hands covering yours, that memory felt like a lifetime ago.

The warmth of his palms grounded you, his presence breaking through the haze in your mind. He watched you, his eyes searching yours, waiting for something—permission, maybe, or reassurance.

You weren't sure.

He took a deep breath, his gaze never wavering. "Look... I'm not expecting anything from you," he said, his voice gruff, almost defensive. "I just... I needed you to know. I don't want you thinking no one cares. Because I do."

Your heart skipped a beat, the sincerity in his words hitting you harder than you expected.

He wasn't asking for anything, wasn't putting pressure on you. He just wanted you to know.

It was simple, and yet it meant everything in that moment.

His hands dropped from yours, and he looked to the side, his usual scowl softening as he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

Your breath caught, your eyes widening in surprise as he pulled away, his face flushed, a deep red spreading across his cheeks. He let out a small, irritated huff, as if annoyed by his own vulnerability, but he didn't pull back completely.

Instead, his thumb brushed softly over the apple of your cheek, his gaze momentarily shifting away before snapping back to meet yours. He straightened up, his hands falling to his sides, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

Then, with a reluctant sigh, he gave you one last look—a mix of frustration, hope, and something softer—before turning on his heel and walking away, his steps slow, almost hesitant.

You watched him go, your heart feeling lighter, a warmth spreading through you that you hadn't felt in a long time.

For the first time, the emptiness that had weighed you down all day seemed to lift, replaced by something new.

Something that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you weren't as alone as you had thought.

A/N:  AHH, i need a bakugo in my life 😔💔

~𝐄𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚~

From the sea of graduating seniors, Bakugo stood at the back of the room, eyes narrowed as he watched you retreat behind the curtains.

It wasn't the first time he'd seen you crack under pressure, but today—your graduation day, of all days—something in you seemed different. Worse.

He gritted his teeth, fighting against the urge to step forward. The logical part of his mind told him to stay back, that it wasn't his business.

You were tough. You always had been. The "cold, untouchable" reputation didn't come from nowhere, after all. But lately... he could see it. Those small moments when your shoulders slumped, or when your eyes lost focus, staring somewhere far away.

It pissed him off more than anything. Not you, but the way no one else seemed to notice the cracks.

No one else was paying attention.

He had wanted to say something so many times, but every moment he almost did, his damn pride got in the way.

What the hell would he even say? He wasn't good at this kind of thing—comforting people, talking about feelings.

But watching you now, shaking behind the stage, he clenched his fists hard enough for his knuckles to turn white.

You disappeared from the stage, moving towards the backrooms where you'd pick up your official records and diploma, and Bakugo let out a sharp exhale. He took a step forward, then stopped, clenching his jaw again.

She's gonna fall apart if nobody does something, he thought, his heart thudding in his chest. And no matter how much he hated the idea of stepping out of his comfort zone, of saying something soft and risking looking like an idiot... he hated the idea of watching you break even more. 

The mask you wore—the one you thought no one could see through—shattered right in front of him.

Bakugo had watched you hold it together for years, watched you become the best without faltering. But today, as you stood on the stage, trembling from exhaustion, he realized how close you were to breaking.

How much you had been hiding.

He couldn't just stand back and watch anymore. It wasn't like him to ignore a problem, especially one staring him dead in the face. But this—being there for you, really being there—that was new territory. He wasn't sure what the hell he was supposed to say or do, but seeing you about to crumble was enough to push him forward.

For once, it wasn't about pride.

It wasn't about looking tough or saving face.

It was about you—just you—and that was enough.

[lighthouseas]

Wedding hcs (mostly just cake smashing bc it’s funny)

Ash and Serena both kind of mutually agreed they weren’t going to smash cake in each others’ faces...mostly Ash agreeing not to do this to Serena because she didn’t want to get dirty.  Ash also didn’t want to get cake on his face, but that’s too bad because of course Gary was there and all Ash heard was “I’ve been waiting for this day my entire life, Ashy-boy” before he finds his face smashed into cake.  Serena laughs her ass off in the background before Bonnie decides to fully carry out the tradition :)

I don’t even think this needs a headcanon because May would 1000% smash cake into Drew’s face even after he told her numerous times NOT to do so.  He kind of expected it though and was just like “oh well”

And you can bet your ass Harley didn’t waste any time doing the same to May lolol

Dawn and Paul’s wedding was small, and the two silently agreed not to smash cake into each other’s faces.  They weren’t those types of people (ESPECIALLY Paul).  Reggie was having NONE of that, and when Paul wasn’t looking, smashed his face straight into the cake.  Paul was about to throw hands with Reggie lmaooo before he saw Dawn laughing at him, and before he could even think about what he was doing, he did the same to Dawn.  Dawn was kind of silent for a moment as she realized what had just happened. She just looked over at Paul incredulously with a look of “you did not just do that”.  And for the first time in like all the time she had known him, he started genuinely laughing (Dawn thought it was adorable).  Everyone at the wedding was in pure shock lmao they had fun (except when Dawn retells the story to literally everyone and Paul has to sit there awkwardly in the background)

Leaf smashes Gary’s face into the cake and he’s PISSED about it.  He’s sure to get her back later lol Ash probably recorded it and saved it

“Rudy, I swear to Arceus-” -Misty’s last words before she’s blinded by cake.  At that point Coral was nearly a year old and kind of babbled and clapped in the background so it ended up being cute after all

Cilan wasn’t planning on smashing cake into Burgundy’s face, rather, Burgundy took it upon herself to smash cake into Cilan’s face.  Iris thought it was hilarious and took tons of pictures while Cilan just stared at Burgundy before returning the “favor” lol

Oh boy.  Lillie and Hau’s wedding. Lillie, under NO circumstance, wanted to have cake on her face.  Hau knew that. So what did he do? Smash her face into the cake.  Lol.  Lillie was so furious at him she ended up throwing cake at him, resulting in a full-blown cake war.  Mallow was pouting in the background because her cake was getting thrown, she ended up joining in though haha

Mallow 100% had Lana record her shoving Kiawe’s face into the cake and he always tells her to delete the video.  She never does.

That’s all I’ve got for now...I just like the cake smashing tradition ok?? T-T

[ballorawan740]

SCP Scenarios: When their kids swear at them (REQUESTED)

Main Masterlist | SCP Scenarios Masterlist | My Works Masterlist | Rules | Request | Socials | My Original Post

Requested by: @Astro_KeySimp

WARNING: Swearing (sorta)

Ok so I kinda made the reader into the child since don't remember if you wanted the reader to be a child or not, so if it wasn't to your liking, then I'm sorry, but I can make a separate version on where the reader isn't the child

It kinda became more of the SCPs and doctors being dads than their reaction to their kids swearing

SCP 073 (Cain)

Cain was walking around with you since you were bored and there wasn't anything to do

Being unaware of what some of the staff were saying, ye went over to grab you some food for later in case you got hungry

Once you both went back, he watched you play with some Legos and was talking as if it was your Lego friends talking to you

Cain looked away for just 10 seconds and heard you shout out "Wow! He said that her baby's such a bi-" which shocked him as he heard it

Cain looked around and made sure that nobody was around the room and was somewhat surprised that you was the one saying this

Being a good dad he is, Cain explained to you carefuly that you shouldn't say that word because it's bad

And being a sweet shy child, you obliged and stopped saying the word

Til this day, Cain had no idea about where and who you've heard the word from and is very much more self-aware

SCP 076-2 (Abel)

Abel is that type of dad who would teach you all the bad words and encourages you to say them

It's the researchers who had to teach you top not to say those words

One time, Dr Glass came in to examine you and had rewarded you as usual since you were so cooperative

You drew a picture of you and Abel talking in a garden with bright coloured flowers

Simon asked if he could see your drawing and saw that the conversation you and your dad had was those of swearing

This surprised Simon since you knew so many at such a young age but wasn't totally shocked since he knew that you were Abel's child

And knowing him, he wouldn't teach you to be nice, so Simon took the job as a mother hen and taught you to not use those words around people

SCP 999 (Tickle Monster)

Ok, so I'll keep this SCP short since I, again, don't know what I should write for this adorable, squicky, neon-orange, bubby blob

Another SCP who doesn't cuss

This adorable squishy boi here was about to have a heart attack when he heard you swear fir the first time

He had to ask you worryingly where you heard that phrase and you just said some guy wearing a white jacket

999 sighed knowing that you'll grow and couldn't do anything to stop it

He did, however, mention that you should try and avoid saying those things to anyone and that they'd most likely have a heart attack since you were his child and you won the genetic lottery for being the cutest and outgoing child in the world

The only other person who knew of this was Dr Glass (sucks to be him ngl, he do be a mother to everyone) and he had to help poor 999 with teaching you better words

SCP 682 (Hard to Destroy Reptile)

YAY! Another SCP who would teach their kid to swear

682 has such a dirty mouth like 076 and would 100% teach you all the words he knows

Similarly to what happened with Abel, you were taken for an interview with Dr Sophia Light since she was assigned to you

She's such a sweet and kind doctor to be around and would teach you anything and everything you would probably need to know all the while keeping an eye on you in case you become overly aggressive like 682

You were just eating some sweets Lights had given you for good behaviour and overheard some researchers swear

Remembering what your dad had taught you, you just repeated those curse words while clapping at your achievement

This had shocked Sophia and that researcher since you were known to be a moderately shy and quiet child who normally wouldn't say those things despite being 682's child

Sophia had to ask if you understood the meaning of those words and shook your head as an indicator for no

She had to carefully find her words and told you to never speak of those words again and took you back to 682's cell

You went and hugged your dad and told him that you learnt from the doctor that those curse words were bad and neither of you should say them

682 had a headache after that

SCP 049 (Plague Doctor)

I have a hard time thinking that 049 would teach his child to cuss and would avoid swearing in front of them at all cost

Like, he barely swears anyways but he wants to stay classy and sassy for his innocent child

Just like the other day, his kiddo, you, was curious about the whole surgery thingy he does on the dead bodies, so you asked him to teach you and so he did (like the good father we nevah had)

So you learnt some new, yet difficult, words (cuz we all have a nonexistent pea-sized brain) and somehow, you managed to fit in a curse word

This did surprise 049 as he had remembered that he didn't teach you those foul words

He had to give you a talk about using such words and you teared up since you thought that people used them to express their affection to others

Unsurprisingly, 049 took his sweet time looking for the guy who 'taught' you this and wanted to use him as a case study for your future lessons

SCP 035 (Possessive Mask)

Another parent with such an amazing influence on children

035 would teach and enable you to use swearing as a form of expression

So you were free to say whatever you want as long as they aren't directed to our mask here, especially if it's in a negative way

Otherwise, you'd be punished (No not like that! He'll just ground you from your favourite TV show/movie)

The researchers were surprised, not about you swearing, but how you use them through expression

Except for this poor guy who was new to the foundation and bumped into you by accident

This rookie found himself listening to you cursing like a sailor (maybe not that much but more or less on the same level as Samuel L Jackson)

Word got out and everybody laughed at the poor rookie and told him more about your background and how you love to swear (apparently swearing will prolong your life, so you'll basically be immortal here)

035 was impressed by the whole ordeal and rewarded you with more shows to watch whenever you're both free

SCP 105 (Iris)

Iris would accidentally swear in front of you and whenever she realises it, she would tell you to not swear at people since it wasn't very nice

So she would use words to replace the swearing like "oh fudging hell not now" and "no sugar honey ice tea"

The foundation felt that it was slightly unnecessary but went with it anyways

They'd even go as far as saying that it's ridiculous, but who are they to judge?

Iris was your mother and she's a single mum too, so she felt the need to be overly beating but would occasionally let you decide on your own since you were only 12

The foundation members did tell her that you will eventually grow and more of these words will be used but she just hesitates

As a teen, you did begin to use foul words more often and Iris would argue about how you're using them, especially towards her, your own mother

Needless to say, you both felt bad and made up

SCP 106 (Old Man)

Now this old man right here doesn't exactly speak, or at least very rarely

And if he does, he'll most likely be talking to you or the foundation staff if he needed some help finding you

He'll most likely be able to understand what the researchers are saying, even if they aren't speaking English

My own personal hc is that 106 understands English, German, Spanish, French, Chinese, Arabic and Indonesian and probably many others

Every now and again, somebody would come in and teach you new words and give other lessons like maths and poetry (our favourite)

You came back home to tell him all the things you've learnt as he watched you in awe as he braided your hair

You've even used some new phrases, including swear words while talking and 106 was pretty impressed

I feel that he's quite neutral with swear words since words are words and are used as a form of verbal communication

So I don't think they'll be much change in his behaviour to whether you're swearing or not

SCP 096 (Shy Guy)

Now with 096, all he does is scream

So basically, somebody else would have to teach you some words

It's not to say that 096 is a dumb animalistic creature with no soul and just kills people who look at his face

He isn't stupid since he manages to find anyone who looked at his face from the other side of the globe

And he seems to understand what the researchers are saying, or at least on a more intermediate to moderate level

You'll learn about swear words from the other researchers, whether they'll be teaching it to you intentionally or you've overheard them

The foundation could really care less, but would at least prefer that you chill a bit if you got carried away

096 would act all cheery when you learn more new things as it's not like the foundation would let him out anyway, so he'll be living the outside world life from you (How relatable, but more with babysitting and dating, cuz I'm too pretty for anyone to date XD)

Like with 106, I don't think 096 would have any special reaction towards swearing, but would probably be screaming internally for a bit since he knows that it isn't a nice word

Dr Jack bright

This mf right here is one of those parents who would be kind but firm

Bright would most definitely give in to your curiosity and teach you whatever you want to learn but would warn you of the dangers

Depending on what it is, he would even go as far as giving you your own personal guard who would stay with you and train you

And unfortunately, this guard has such a foul mouth, so you're constantly exposed to such words

Luckily for the both of you, Jack Bright doesn't really care about swearing as long as you're not being extremely inappropriate if you were to work

He would even joke around with you sometimes and would even start the conversation with swearing

For instance, he'd just surprise you with a "Yeet his mf outta my sheithole"

And yes, you did laugh at his antics

Some would even say that you're an exact clone of him but more stable (for now)

Well, Bright is an amazing dad, but I'd say just below Dr Glass

Or maybe even on par with him

Like Bright is a goofy dad that has all the terrible dad jokes and Glass would be the type of dad to look out for his kid

Dr Simon Glass

Dr Glass would most definitely avoid using swear words, especially if you were under 15

Even if you were over 15, he'd still avoid swearing unless he wants to make a joke or 2

So most of the time, you'd learn all the swearing from other people and SCPs

Sometimes you would swear by accident and Glass would just look at you, slightly disappointed

I'd say he doesn't exactly care about you swearing per see, but would rather you avoid it

It's cuz Simon is the best dad a dad could ever dad and nobody could prove me wrong here

He's also one of the top best dads compared to the others on the list

He's basically your best friend so he'd let you vent and its the 1 time he'd let you swear to show your emotions

Simon would 100% know your thoughts and behaviour

He's just that good at reading people, especially you - almost to the point where people would say he's an SCP cuz I swear he's just empathic and telepathic

As mentioned before, Glass would be the type of dad to care for your mental health

It's not that the others don't, it's just that Glass is a top their God of Psychology and would come to you before you even know you have depression

He would even crack a joke sometimes

So every so often, he would shout out "LANGUAGE!!!" from across the room before you could even bat an eye and say anything

Dr Alto Clef

Another top tier dad, but swearing addition

Your godfather would literally be Jack Bright

Then it's Kondraki and Glass

He would let you swear on a daily basis and would join you

Sometimes you be looking at your Oppas/Noonas and be like: "Oh fxxk me!" and Clef, who's in the next room, be like: "Yeah, fxxk me too!" (Yes but no sis! No incest pls!)

Other times, you would be in the same room as Clef and Bright and you'd join them in being chaotic

And poor Kondraki  is just there at the back trying to do his work peacefully

One time, Kondraki had to grab a Simon Glass to help stop the chaotic trio

And OML did it end so well

You were easy to manage tbh, with the exception of you swearing

Clef and Bright would most definitely encourage you to swear more

Especially Clef since he does have a twisted sense of humour

Dr Benjamin Kondraki

Kondraki is totally the type of person who would tell their kid to mind their own language

But he secretly doesn't care and his child knows it

His style of parenting is similar to Simon's

And yes, Simon is your #1 godfather/uncle

You'd go to him for emotional support since Kondraki sucks at that

Sometimes you'd swear at him and he'd get mad though

So yeah, running to Glass is a wonderful idea

And we all know that Kondraki doesn't mean what he said

He's just extremely introverted, but he's rather sensible - Usually...

Anyways, he would ask Simon on tips and advice on how to get you to stop swearing so much and he just gave Benjamin a parenting book (Like fr guys, let Glass have some rest, he's tired of babysitting over 100 dozens of pets in the zoo and all the other babies who work in it)

[maeve-writes]

Heroes

Pairing: Stripper!Bucky Barnes x Reader x Stripper!Steve Rogers

Rating: 18+, Minors DNI 

Warnings: Adult situations, alcohol consumption, allusion to mild cheating(??). More to be added later.

Summary: It’s your friend’s birthday and you’re dragged to the Heroes club. You’re not one for that kind of place, but you quickly change your mind after you get to play the damsel in distress for a pair of Brooklyn babes. 

a/n: Unbeta’d, any mistakes are my own and please forgive me. This is the second story I’ve written in a while. Forgive me?

You normally don’t go to these sorts of places but it was your friend’s 30th birthday and it was on her bucket list. Luckily, you weren’t talked into planning any of it, just had to toss in some cash for the fee to get in and the never ending flow of drinks, plus the very special Birthday Girl Dance package.

It took you three years after the second Magic Mike movie came out to watch the first one. The idea of male strippers seemed odd. But, when you really thought about it, so did female strippers. 

Nevertheless, the night ultimately wasn’t about you, it was about your friend and her birthday. You were happy to be there with your friends, enjoying the celebration and drinks, seeing hot guys take off their clothes was a weird added bonus.

Heroes was the club to go if you wanted to see buff dudes bare it all. Tara, the birthday girl, had been raving about it for months. She found videos of it online and shared them in your group chat. That, of course, had your other friends looking for more videos and all of them started to have their favorites.

“Girl, some of them even give private shows,” Sonya, the oldest and who was supposed to be the responsible one of your group, mock-whispered excitedly.

You tried not to roll your eyes as your gang was escorted to the front table near the stage. It was a semicircular booth where small round tables came up from the floor, big enough for drinks, but small and spaced out enough to allow for bodies to move around and in between.

Your host was a slender built guy on the younger side, barely old enough to be allowed in. He had a baby face and a boyish smile, but his muscles were well defined as the club forced him to be shirtless save for the small bow tie around his neck with a spider in the middle, and the tiny pair of shorts that cupped his rear which stayed there by what you guessed was his will or magic. Maybe both.

“Here you are, ladies,” he guided, instructing Tara to take her seat near the middle. “The name’s Peter- uh Spider-Man. I’ll be taking care of you tonight.”

That set off a fit of giggles from your friends which caused a full body flush from your waiter. His embarrassment tugged at your heartstrings. “New at this, Mr. Spider,” you asked.

His flush darkened and he rubbed absently at the back at his neck after he passed out the menus. “It’s Spider-Man,” he corrected you, “but is it that obvious?” You tilted your head and scrunched up your nose, parting your pointer and thumb a small ways apart. He laughed in return, his shoulders relaxing a little. You gave him a wink and a smile before the rest of your friends attacked the poor kid with their drink and food orders.

You felt sorry for the guy, but he seemed to have loosened up a bit since your small, playful banter and your friends ate up his boyish charm. 

While you waited for your turn to order, you looked around the club to find its sleek design, not something you thought a strip club would offer. The walls were painted black, accented by silver framed posters of the dancers. Above each were white neon lights that spelt out their Hero name.

The rest of the booths were like your own, made of soft black cushions, black metal bases which were illuminated underneath by white light. The tables that sprang from the ground were polished silver necks with textured tempered glass tops to keep drink slipping and spilling to a minimum.

Of course, all of the booths surrounded the stage, which was mostly closed off by a thick black curtain, save for the large catwalk that split half of the sitting area in two. It was wide enough to fit three large men comfortably across it, shoulder to shoulder, and from some of the videos your group shared, they had done so before.

When Peter- there was no way you were going to refer to him by his Hero name- got to your order last, you could hear other rowdy groups start to file in. A couple of bachelorette parties, a girl’s 21st birthday, and a Happy Divorce Finalization Day were all joining you. Your friends quickly became friends with everyone in the room, so even if the show sucked, at least all of you could get drunk and have fun.

“Excuse me, ladies,” a voice rang out above you. Cheers burst from the crowd and every light in the room popped out and stayed out until the room fell silent. “Now that I have your attention…” A tall, dark man walked out from the split of the curtains. He wore a wireless microphone over his ear, an eyepatch over his eye which rested just above a self assured smile. Dressed in a fitted pair of leather pants and combat boots, he strode to the center crossroads of the stage and catwalk, “My name is Director Fury. I will be introducing you to your Heroes tonight.” He paused for another round of catcalls. “And hopefully we can save you from the Villains, too.” That drew out louder screams from the crowd.

“Now, what do we do to the bad girls like you,” he paused, looking pointedly to the crowd, “we contain,” he pulled a piece of rope from the back of his pants and tossed it into a group nearby, “detain,” he pulled out cuffs and twirled them around a finger before he threw those out as well, “and entertain.” With that, the bass dropped and the curtain flew open, behind Director Fury were the Heroes (and Villains) in all of their sweat slicked glory. 

Once the Director stepped aside, the seven dancers on stage began their opening routine. Dressed in black vests and tear-away leather pants, the men paraded around the stage and catwalk to the thump of the music, pulling off pieces of their clothing as they went. The women around you went wild, snatching at whatever was tossed their way, fighting playfully for it. While it seemed incredibly silly, Tara was having the time of her life and you absently sipped at your Tequila Sunrise while you scrolled on your phone. 

The dance number finished not two minutes later with a screaming cheer and standing ovation from the rest of the already slightly tipsy crowd. Director Fury came out while the dancers disappeared into the back to get ready, he worked the crowd, mentioning the brides-to-be and promised them a very special wedding gift before the night was over. “But I heard there were a couple of birthdays here,” Fury said, looking between your group and the one behind you. “Now, I’m going to get the young gun back there in a moment, but… a little bird told me that you,” he pointed to your friend, “are a very big fan of our first Hero of the night.” 

Tara squealed and stood up, “Fuck yes, I am. God bless Captain America! ...and dat ass!”

It was obvious that Director Fury was trying to keep his composure, but the corners of his lips twitched like he wanted to join in on the laughter from the crowd. “Well, he is certainly blessed,” he replied, “and ladies, you will be, too, when you see him at full salute.” He winked and started to walk off stage, “Captain? Duty calls…”

Some sort of abomination of the Star Spangled Banner started to play, remixed with drum and bass. You looked up to see what kind of horror show would come from something treasonous as what bled from the speakers around you, you were met with over six feet of muscle covered in a fitted blue suit, fingerless leather gloves on his hands, and a round metal shield on his back painted red, white, and blue. 

The Captain’s background was what looked like a large war ship with painted ski-masked bad guys spread throughout the levels. His stage allowed him ramps and poles to move up and down, which he used freely. He used a mixture of acrobatics and dance to move across the stage, tossing the shield around, “fighting off the bad guys” and losing his clothes in the process. By the end of the song he was left in just the leather gloves and a very tight pair of shorts, much like the ones Peter wore, except the Captains had the same pattern of his shield printed across the backside. 

Tara’s screams knocked you out of your daze and you realized you hadn’t stared down at your phone at all during the Captain’s dance. You watched all five minutes of it and couldn’t tear your eyes away. Heroes wasn’t about getting drunk women horny, they wanted to put on a show, too. You clapped lightly, though it was drowned out by the cheering around you, but unbeknownst to you, it wasn’t unnoticed. 

Fury was out once again and he brought up the first bachelorette of the night. He put her in a chair on the catwalk and gave her a candy-garterbelt. Then he asked her waiter, a guy named “Ant Man”, to remove it with only his tongue, which he happily obliged. 

Peter cut off your view with another drink, one you didn’t order. “On the house,” he said with a lopsided grin and placed the red, white, and blue layered drink next to your nearly empty Sunrise. Before you could ask him who ordered it, the candy garterbelt was being tugged between the bachelorette and her waiter. It ended in a tongue-y kiss and the ladies went wild. 

“Let’s hope her future husband doesn’t mind,” you muttered and turned your attention to your phone once again. Director Fury, thankfully, broke up the awkward scene on stage and began to introduce the next dancers. It was a pair, brothers, apparently, and they worked on the good versus bad troupe. Thor and Loki were opposites in every sense of the word. Thor was a large blond with a commanding presence. He had a bright smile and sun kissed skin that looked great in his red and gold trimmed briefs. But his brother was slender, graceful - almost cat-like, with dark hair and a mischievous grin all wrapped in flawless alabaster skin. They didn’t look like brothers, but they moved around each other like they had been together all of their lives, and knew each other’s moves. 

You only caught half of their story, as you were already halfway done with, what you found out was called the American Glory drink, and half wondered if that was what Captain America tasted like. Fury was up again and had the young lady celebrating her 21st birthday take two shots and lick the salt from Thor and Loki’s still sweaty chests. 

Peter found his way in front of you again and said that someone needed to talk to you about your card being declined. You frowned and excused yourself from your friends to find out what was going on. There shouldn’t have been a problem, you got paid the day before, there was plenty of money in your account.

You were taken to a hall that connected what seemed like offices, the dressing room, and the route to the backstage. “Sorry,” Peter said sheepishly, “they said this was the only way to get you back here. Gotta go.” He waved and jogged back out to the lobby.

Confused, you were about to shout out after him when you felt a tap on your shoulder. When you turned, you faced that wall of American muscle beaming down at you. “Hey there,” he greeted, a smile almost blinding you from its perfection. “Don’t be too mad at the kid, I asked him to get you back here.”

“What,” was all you could get out. He was thankfully dressed, but his muscles were straining against the white tshirt and the gym shorts did not hide the package he carried. Even with all of that, what mesmerized you most was his eyes, sparkling blue and bright with amusement. 

“This next bit requires audience participation and he had someone in mind,” the Captain replied like he explained everything.

“We had someone in mind,” a voice corrected behind the door you two stood near. You tore your eyes away from the blond and eyed the wood barrier suspiciously. 

“Don’t worry,” Captain America laughed, capturing your attention once again, “it’s nothing too dangerous or embarrassing. You just have to sit there, pretend to be tied up, and me and Buck will dance around you.” He put his hands on his hips and tilted his head in thought, “Well, actually, you really will be tied up, but we promise we’ll let you go once we’re done.”

“Or not, if you don’t want us to,” came the voice again, which made the Captain laugh.

You blinked up at him and frowned, “What’s the catch?”

“There’s no catch,” he shook his head. “We might dance on you a little, if you don’t mind, the crowd likes it. But if not, we can work around that.” The thought of Captain America in those tiny shorts grinding on you was a very nice thought.

“‘Sfine,” you shrugged.

He beamed and reached out to squeeze you on the shoulder, his touch lingering and his thumb running along your collarbone. “I’ll let the stage team know.” Reluctantly, he dropped his hand and knocked on the door next to you both, “Five minutes.” When he heard a ‘yeah, got it’, the Captain motioned you to follow him. 

The stage crew took over and the Captain disappeared to get ready. You were told about the chair you’d be sitting in, the rope that would be tied around your chest and if you would be okay with it. There was some hesitation on your part, but ultimately you agreed. They brought you on stage, a winter wonderland of sorts and placed you on a log-like chair. The rope wasn’t tight, but it was obvious you were the damsel in distress. 

“One of you was taken,” Director Fury said from the other side of the curtain in front of you, “by The Winter Soldat. Will she survive? Will she be saved?” All of the lights turn off once again and an industrial heavy beat thrummed through the speakers, rattling your bones. Red stage lights shone down on you when the curtain pulled open and your friends lost their minds.

To your right you saw a figure stalk out of the dark, red light bouncing off a silver metal arm. A mask covered the lower half of his face, but his eyes were trained on you like you were prey. His black muscle shirt clung tightly to his chest, one sleeve missing to show off his arm, and his black tactical pants stretched against his thick thighs. You could feel the shaking of the stage from the stomps of his booted feet.

Eyes wide, you stared at him until he stopped short of your chair on cue with the music. His nostrils flared lightly before he moved again, the music flowing with him. He slung one leg over the side over your chair, straddling you. The metal arm clamped the wooden back rest of the chair and he narrowed his gaze. Lights flash around you, strobing from red to white and back again until they settle on the house lights. 

Soldat began to roll his body with the tempo, blue eyes locked with yours. You could hear the screams behind him as he dancing, but neither of you were paying attention. 

His hips circled until he’s seated on your lap, you’re practically nose to nose. He brought his flesh hand to the side of your face and you could feel it trembling against your skin. With him that close you could hear him mutter in some other language that isn’t English, you’re guessing Russian, but you’re not sure. Either way, you felt crushed by his weight and you liked it. You didn't want him to go. 

But the music changed and the lights started to flash again, red, white, and now blue mixed in. Captain America joined the two of you on stage and Soldat slipped from your lap. Just as Thor and Loki had before, these two moved around each other like they were made from the same mold. 

During the fight, pieces of clothing were tossed aside and at one point you were freed from your bonds. Soldat pulled you up from your chair and up against his chest, your backside pressed so tightly against him you could almost feel his heartbeat. He moved you with him as he continued to fight the Captain.

Until seconds before the song ended and the music swelled, the Captain landed one good blow to Soldat and sandwiched you between them. The Winter Soldier recalibrated and recognized his old friend and you. He pulled the Captain into a big bear hug and then picked you up bridal style, taking you off stage with cheers from the crowd.

Once you’re all off stage, he sat you down with a hearty laugh. “You did a fantastic job, sweetheart,” the Soldier praised, running his metal hand through his chin length brown hair. “Couldn’t have asked for a better dance partner.” Flushed from embarrassment and arousal, you continued to stare at him until you were joined by the Captain. “I told you she’d be great, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, Buck, you know how to pick ‘em,” the blond agreed with a smile.

“Thanks,” you replied breathlessly, finally coming out of your stupor. “That was… fun. I’m just going to go back to my seat now, I guess.”

“Wait,” the one named “Buck” jumped to stop you, “we were wondering if you wanted a private show?” You heard about those from Tara. You knew that they were exclusive and very expensive… and sometimes had happy endings. They seemed to sense your hesitation because they both added in unison as they eyed you up like you were a four course meal, “For free.”

“I never turn down free anything,” you shrugged. The pair turned to look at each other and their smiles turned to wicked grins. You aren’t sure what you got yourself into, but you’re pretty sure you were going to enjoy it.

a/n: Part Two coming soon... with smut!