#my friends are trying to get me to DM for them and came up with these class/species choices. this was during con at the end of may lmao

[thatbitchery]

Being open and being open-minded are forms of self-sabotage that, like all other forms of self-sabotage, come wrapped up in the glittery pink gift box of being a "good person." I tell my girls: dump the blue hair, you're hurting your hair, and if your piercings aren't traditional—like you're Indian and your septum/nose ring is you fulfilling a cultural obligation (in which case the rest of your style must reflect your roots)—dump it and find some religion to shield yourself under and adopt a conservative exterior so men don't even try the ArE YoU OpEn MinDeD bullshit, which is just them asking you to be their cum dumpster, pOlYgAmOuS 50/50 ethical pack donkey slave who's also PoLyAmOrOuS and willing to sixsome with him and his homies. You're right, style and clothes are modes of personal expression, and your blue lipstick and facial rings are saying you're open to being society’s jokester. Yes, of course, presentation is personal expression, you're right, I'm with you here—it's just you think YOU decide what they say, but that's not how it works. Society has a template of what says what, and you pick what you want to say from the provided template, not Will Of Mind.

So on being open—I have said it over and over and over again that you need to learn to be a friend to all and a friend to none at the same time and never pick sides unless you're playing the numbers game (security is found in numbers) or you're getting paid to, and I see how this can be confused with being open to all. I see it. But that couldn't be farther from what I'm telling you to do if it tried. Being centrist and being open are not even the same species.

I obviously do not perform free labor if there is no payoff for me, idc, but I remember when I came to this blog and opened my asks and DMs and said, "Well, you can ask me anything" and did the stupid thing of being open because, you know—it’s simply typing, is that even labor? And I felt like I was too harsh before so I wanted to be softer and kinder because I am Mother and it's motherly to not ask your kids if they think they're stupid or if it's just you that sees it. And the WhAt iS yOuR HeiGhT, WhAt dO yOu thiNk aBouT tHe cOloR oF tHe SkY, WhErE dO i MeEt a RiCh MaN (btw, hypergamy gang I am NOT your ally, I don't like y'all) were bad, but I remember this ONE user that asked me a genuine question and I answered because why not. So they asked a follow-up, and I answered because isn't that the whole idea of having anon open? And at some point, it got to mental labor point, and I was like, Hey, I do online coaching, we can do that, but I don't do free labor, and this girl goes, YeAh OkAy BuT (repeats question). I stare at the screen baffled because maybe my dyslexic ass didn't write the right thing? English isn't even a language I am fluent in, so OH? I text a friend the message and say, Hey, what do you think this means? She says—that you want to be paid for your expertise? SO OH, I did, in fact, send the right message, you're just trying to lowball me. So I'm like, why would they just so blatantly push a boundary I literally just set three seconds ago? And I go back, read all of it, and OH MY GOD—it’s my fault. Hate it when that happens. Like, look at that, my actions having consequences, isn't that funny? MY fault for talking to girl like we are some sort of besties.

Formality is feminine protection. Sit with this here as long as you need to—THIS is the thing I'm trying to tell you. Formality is how you draw the line between not picking sides and also not being "open" to everyone. Formality is THE most powerful boundary there is. How Do I Draw Boundaries With People?—By being formal with them. I met this girl on a boat and we had a conversation, and I remember her saying she prefers Arab and Russian guests/bosses because they are formal and operate hierarchically over Americans that act friendly and fun, and it's almost impossible to know when you've crossed a line and get fired for the mistake you didn't know you made, or they start flirting and it makes the workplace hard to be in. Societies with formality ingrained—Japan, S. Korea, Africa, Arabia—are generally more coherent to be in because you know where the lines are and you're not patting your way through the dark. You need to understand it's possible to be friendly without upsetting formality.

My boss is my boss and he's very friendly with everyone, which makes work difficult, but with me, no—because I hold the boundaries between us. If he makes a joke I don't like, I stretch a smile that everyone can see is obligatory, and when he says something I do like, same thing—obligatory smile. We are not friends. This is not comedy central. Give me my monthly assignment and sign my paycheck. Same with my workmates—when they gossip, I don't cut myself out and alienate myself, but I also don't take part in it. Mostly I bring my headphones when I'm working in the office and keep my eyes on my screen so when it's gossip central, I look up and listen, and if someone directly addresses me, I simply look around like a lost thing and tighten a smile and act lost. What are you even on about? Halfway through explanation—Hey, did you see Sara's shoes? What size does she wear? I want to borrow them for dinner this weekend. Dinner where? You’d like to know, wouldn’t you? Uh huh—turns back to work.

How to let people know you're not open space? Be formal. Tight smile that everyone can see is tight, and blank reactions. We are not enemies, no, but we are not friends either. I'm glad I learned to be formal with the way I answer questions. Now see how no one is asking me about the size of my pp? Yes. Or I'll just ignore you.

Relationships are SUPPOSED to take time, so when people feel like they have won you over easily, they don't respect you. I wanted to not be as harsh as I was in 2023 and be more approachable, and well—the pendulum had to swing. So I went full bestie mode and got upset. Now I've found the midpoint and don't groan every time I open my inbox. We are not enemies, but we are not friends either.

Also, takeaway no. 2—get paid for your labor and expertise and experience. Martyrdom isn't for women and we don't doormat in this house. Money or nothing, ok? And charge your worth.

BMAC

[jamiethebeeart]

DannyMay Day 13: DnD AU

Watch what strangers you talk to in the tavern. // Artificer (Human) Tucker, (Half) Air Genesi Danny, and Druid (Elf) Sam

[memento-morri-writes]

whump wednesday - part iii

tw / tags: concussion, blood, bleeding out, loss of consciousness character: Rook (who else?) status: canon (took place several irl months ago as part of Rook’s first “Horrible, Very Bad, No-Good Weekend”.) wordcount: 525

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Another continuation from earlier. The party has now made it back to the Winters' manor. Having lost a lot of blood since being revived (on top of his concussion), Rook is in pretty bad shape. His mentor, Sigmar, is attempting to get him to the Winters' healers.

Rook’s eyes drifted closed, the oblivion of sleep calling to him. A sharp prod at his side dragged them reluctantly back open.  “Rook, you need to stay awake. Just a little bit longer, until a healer can have a look at you.” Sigmar’s voice was serious as he half-dragged, half-carried Rook down the hall of the Winters’ manor.  Rook groaned in response. He was exhausted, and every inch of his body ached. He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and fall headlong into unconsciousness. Sigmar prodded him again. “Tell me what happened to you. How you ended up in this state.”

Rook thought hard for a moment. How had he ended up like this? He remembered Celestia, and healing the party, and then- Oh, right. He started to explain, his words running together as he spoke. “This werewolf guy showed up. Deadringer?” Sigmar’s body tensed but he said nothing. “And he wanted Warren. Warren and Cherry, I think.” He paused, trying to remember what had happened after that. “He… he wanted to hurt them. So I told him he’d have to go through me first. And he said ‘Deal.’ and threw me across the room. I… I think one of his werebeasts killed me.” He felt rather than saw Sigmar shake his head. “I should never have left you. If I’d known she’d bring Deadringer into this… I shouldn’t have let you go off to fight someone like him without me.” Once again, Rook was surprised at the weight of the emotion in his mentor’s voice. He wanted to say It’s not your fault. Or maybe, I would have done it anyway, but his mouth wouldn’t cooperate. So instead he just rested his head on Sigmar’s shoulder. The damp chill that had come over him on the way here was getting stronger and he leaned into Sigmar’s warmth. “‘S cold,” he mumbled. Sigmar picked up the pace a bit, a worried edge creeping into his voice. “Come on, come on. Just a little further.” Rook’s eyes were heavy, and his awareness of the world was fading. He heard a door open, was vaguely aware of a brightly lit, white-painted room, of being laid down on a bed. He could hear people talking urgently, unfamiliar voices joining Sigmar’s. His muddled mind only caught fragments of their words. “Concussion… Severe… Significant blood loss… Not enough… ”  Sigmar’s raised voice cut through the fog. “Help him, damn you!” It sounded very far away, as though coming from another room. Multiple sets of hands touched his skin, and the familiar warmth of healing magic (when had being healed become familiar again?, he wondered dimly) flooded his body. The cold, clammy feeling faded away. The constant pain he had stopped registering some time ago subsided, leaving blissful neutrality in its wake. His head cleared slightly too, blurred reality coming back into focus for a brief moment. Distant voices reached his ears, borne by that momentary clarity. “It’s safe for him to sleep now. He’ll be fine after some rest.” As if his body needed no further reassurance, Rook’s mind relaxed, and within seconds he sank into a deep sleep.

[elliesanqel]

loser ellie being down bad for mean!reader please like maybe shes a popular girl that kinda makes fun of her

obsessed

sypnosis; you were the popular girl—mostly known for making fun of people but there was one girl in particular you always made fun of on the daily. however, with you thinking she hated your guts because of how you treat her, little did you know how secretly obsessed she was with you when she shows another side of herself. warnings; smut, sub!fem reader, dom!ellie, semi-public fingering, slight cum play, not proofread, mdni. a/n; sorry for the wait…i’ve been sick😭 but here i am powering through💪 i looooved this idea so tysm for ur req! (sorry if it sounds rushed, better ones will come soon💔) hope u enjoy! reqs are always open so send as many in i looove seeing them! also if you wanna be on my taglist drop a comment or dm me!

➝ masterlist

you sat at your table with your friends, just a regular wednesday. everyone who wasnt your friend saw you as the mean girl. the popular girl. the one everyone would kill to be like or even sit with. you had to admit, you loved the feeling of being drooled over. you were mean to alot of people, you enjoyed teasing. but when it came to that one girl? ellie williams? oh you enjoyed teasing her more than everyone—your go to was the fact that everyone knew she was a lesbian, mostly because of the fact you knew you could say something as you were straight. or…so you thought.

you laughed with your mates, till at the corner of your eye you see her, her backpack slung over her shoulder as she trails past your table, not even making eye contact and you could sense the fact she knew you’d say something when she turned her head the other way.

“look, guys. its that lesbian weirdo.” you laugh, thinking you were somewhat funny as your friends laughed too. you never let a day go by where you wouldn’t tease her. after all, in your eyes it was just banter. she shot you a look of disgust, which only made you smirk when you realised she wasnt trying to look away.

“what’re you starin’ for? hm? did you wanna kiss me or something?” you joke, your friends laughs echoing behind you. she rolled her eyes and walked off before you could make another joke, shooting you a side glance as she exited the cafeteria. you smiled to yourself, thinking your teasing was successful for today.

that was until after lunch had ended, you had 2 more lessons left before you went home now so you got up and said bye to your friends, walking towards the hallway to your next lesson.

you stopped at your locker for some things, but before you could close it a rough hand gripped around your arm and dragged you to the nearest empty classroom. you couldnt even react it was so fast, all you could do was try and scream but even that was abruptly cut off by a hand covering your mouth.

the classroom was pitch black as the blinds were down, but an open window blew one of the blinds slightly, letting some light in and illuminating who dragged you here. your eyes widened in confusion, but then you were just completely dumbfounded once you recognised the memorable features…of her.

“you—” you began, but your sentence was yet again cut off when she took a step closer, her firm hands wrapping around your naked thighs due to your short skirt, and she placed you on top of one of the desks. she looked at you with those eyes. that same look that you knew all too well.

“you get off on making me look like a fool all the time. don’t you think its my turn now?” she whispers seductively, her breath fanning across your lips as she leaned in, her palms resting on your thighs. this was the complete opposite of what you’d expected from her, and to add on—you’d never really heard her talk before up until now.

you gulped loudly, her words leaving you completely speechless. you silently cursed yourself as you felt your thighs involuntarily spreading a little further, letting her stand inbetween them which is exactly what she did when she saw the opportunity.

she gripped your thighs harder, her lips leaning in and brushing against your ear, her voice low. “hmm. this doesn’t seem like straight behaviour to me. the same girl who makes fun of me for not being it,” she whispers, her hot breath touching your ear.

“spreading those legs for me, huh? yeah, seems very straight, doesn’t it?” she teases. repeatedly mentioning the whole straight thing considering you constantly made fun of her for being lesbian. so many thoughts clouded your mind and you were partly confused, but she was able to read that part. “let me clear that mind of yours, mhm?” she mumbles breathlessly, pressing a warm kiss to your cheek before one of her hands slowly began reaching up your skirt.

“you were right, y’know. i do want to kiss you.”

your breath hitched, her lips inching closer to yours and pressing a soft kiss to them. her tongue slipped over your bottom lip—seeking entrance and you complied, parting your lips for her. her tongue slipped into your warm mouth, sliding against your own in a desperate kiss as both of your breaths were heavy. for some reason, you weren’t pulling away. god, what was she doing to you? you started questioning yourself. wondering wether you made fun of her just to cover up the fact that you could potentially…like her. so many thoughts clouded in your head, but her next movement quickly swiped them all away.

she broke the kiss—her middle and ring finger slipped up your thigh, and past your panties, gently running through your folds. fuck sake. in a classroom. seriously?

you arched forward as you felt her warm fingers rub your folds, your forehead meeting with her shoulder as a needy whine fell past your parted lips. her eyes widened at that, however. she lifted her other hand from your thigh, getting her pointer finger and middle finger and gliding them across your bottom lip, wanting to slip them in. “be quiet. suck.” she commanded, ordering you to suck on her fingers to keep you silent.

your eyes flashed open, but all you could do at this point was comply. you opened your mouth further, taking her digits into your mouth as you began sucking on them. her face fell, her teeth finding her bottom lip as she bit down on it, urging her other hand. she began circling your clit which caused you to bite down on her fingers that were making your mouth feel so full.

she loved the feeling, seeing the girl who made fun of her looking like a fool beneath her. “thats it, thaaats it. suck, sweetheart.” she teased, her voice still that low and seductive tone that you’d gotten used to by now.

she wasted no time in slipping her fingers inside of your clearly aching pussy. she could feel your walls clench around them as she slipping them in fully. you bit down harder on her fingers, your eyes completely rolling back as you arched further.

“ohhh fuck…look at you,” she whispers, moving her lips to your ear again, her voice lowering even further as she spoke. she layed soft kisses to your temple, her soft lips grazing against your skin. her fingers continued to move, pumping in and out of your sobbing hole at a fast pace. so fucking ruthless.

you could feel it now, your stomach tightening and your walls clenching around ellies fingers, she could feel it too. one of your hands reach to her forearm, gripping on for dear life as you could feel yourself on the edge, your teeth biting down harder and your tongue swirling around her fingers in your mouth. she swore she could feel your juices surround her other ones before you’d even came yet, beginning to smirk as she saw you unfolding for her.

“i-i…im gonna—” you almost gag on your words, your mouth completely full with saliva and surrounded by her fingers. your ankles wrap around her waist, trapping her in. “shh, i know, i know.” she whispers reassuringly. she knew you were teetering on the edge and she wanted to get you there, purely to see the sight and for you to feel pleasure. with a couple more pumps, her fingers curling up and stroking against your spongey spot, and her thumb finding your clit, circling it gently, you felt your whole body begin to shake before finally jolting.

your cum flowed out of your aching pussy, onto the desk below you and covering her fingers. you give one final bite on her fingers in your mouth, but you couldnt help but whine as your back arched once more. why was that so good…and why did you want more? she grinned, slipping her fingers out of your mouth with a pop.

then came her fingers from your wet cunt, slipping them out. she smirked at the sight. “i knew your cum would look good on my fingers,” she whispers, looking you dead in the eyes. but then she raised her fingers to her mouth, inserting them in and licking up every last bit like it was liquid fucking gold. she let out a content hum, all the while your eyes widening as you watched her lick your juices up.

her words lingered in your head. well fuck. she’s thought of this happening before.

she reached her hand back down, gathering more of your release back onto her fingers, causing your hips to move against them slightly and your teeth finding your bottom lip. she really didnt care by this point, how desperate she looked for you, she just cared about showing it. this time though, she inched her fingers to your mouth, caressing your lips and letting your own cum drip onto them.

you’d never experienced anything like this before but you knew what she wanted, and you couldnt help but want nothing more than to comply with it. your tongue darted out, licking up your own cum off your lips that she’d put there. she eyed your every movement, smirking as she watched you like she was watching a damn porn video—completely mesmerised.

she pushed your panties back to where they should be, licking her fingers a few more times like she’d just enjoyed and was full from a good meal. she leaned into you, her lips brushing against yours now which caused your heart to jolt.

“guess i’ll see you tomorrow then?” she whispers, her words hitting you like a fucking truck. see you tomorrow? oh no she did not.

your eyes shot open in fury, about to physically yell at her for acting so nonchalant now. but before you could even protest she’d already began walking to the classroom door, opening it and closing it behind her, not even having the courtesy to give you a glance before she left. you sat there, completely dumbfounded and angry that she’d left you in a damn classroom in a state like this.

but something tugged in your stomach, silently cursing yourself that you were actually excited for tomorrow.

taglist: @valeisaslut @elliesfavtoy @ttspenny @willurms @slutt4ellie @stvrluvrrpres @elliescoochieeater @st0nerlesb0 @les4elliewilliams @eveyuyy @starwilliams @ellieswrath @eriiwaii @vahnilla

[puck-luck]

jack hughes comes back from a long roadie and his gf (of only like a few months) is all over him, wearing his jersey on top of some lingerie, and just saying the dirtiest most filthy shit because she missed him so much and needs him immediately, and he is like in a state of shock (the good kind) bc he’s never really seen her like this before and it turns into like the hottest sex they’ve ever had ☝🏻

(this is my last one!! sorry, i am not a dawson mercer girly so i don’t really have any ideas for him, hopefully some other nons can pick up the DM slack for me 🫶🏻)

in memoriam of one of the original asks cappy sent me in a spree last april🥹 see, guys, i get to everything eventually...

warnings: unprotected p in v, **mentions of jack's shoulder injury**, mentions of handjobs, mentions of blowjobs, mentions of thigh riding, mentions of overstimulation, fingering, switch!jack and switch!reader (they do both! in this one, jack is... leaning more dom, but he's not like a DOM!dom), praise, mentions of pain play, squirting, that's all i remember. doing this from memory is hard!

pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader

wc: 3,995

The finishing touch for Jack’s big welcome home party– just you, since Luke and the rest of the team are on the road at the moment– is the vase of flowers in your hand. You can’t decide where exactly to put it.

You put the vase together on Jack’s kitchen counter. You cut the stems into his pull-out trashcan near the dishwasher and filled the vase with lukewarm water from his sink. You sprinkled some of that nutrient packet into the water, the packet that came with the flowers, even though you’re not sure if you used the right amount or if that’s what you were supposed to do anyway. You’re not a florist. You just wanted to do something nice for your boyfriend.

Your heart damn near stopped after he crashed into the boards in that game against Vegas. To see Jack’s opponent– and friend, since you’d met the other Jack at 4 Nations when they were on Team USA together– crouched over him and checking on him, making sure he was okay… it made you feel sick to your stomach. Obviously, he wasn’t okay.

And then he went to get surgery almost immediately. He went to Colorado, got patched up, and went back to Michigan for a couple of weeks to get his initial rehab and recovery out of the way with his old Team USA trainers and his parents closeby. 

You’d felt so useless when it happened. You and Jack only started dating a couple of months ago, right around the new year, and you had no idea how to help him with this injury. You have no idea what he needs now that he’s coming back.

So, you’re trying to make the apartment pretty for him.

You’ve strung up a banner in the living room, above the door of the balcony, which says “Welcome Home, Jack!” in big bubble letters. You painted it yourself last weekend, when he’d texted that he’d be coming home soon, and you’d artfully hidden your mistakes by turning the banner over and starting again. You hope that Jack doesn’t observe the back when he takes it down. You never claimed to be an artist, but it’s still embarrassing to be so bad at spacing out letters when you used a ruler and everything.

There are balloons in the corner and tied to Jack’s seat at the table. You’re wearing a party hat and you bought him a paper crown to wear when he arrives. 

The only question that remains is where to put these damn flowers. 

You want him to see them when he walks in, so you can’t put them on the kitchen counter, or the dining room table, or in his bedroom. You could put them on the table they have next to the door, where the guys put their keys and throw their coats, but Jack would knock them over with said coat or he’d throw his keys into them by accident and lose them forever among the petals. They’ll have to go on the coffee table near the couch, but even that seems imperfect.

When Jack tells you that he just made it to his building, not knowing that you’re upstairs waiting for him, you decide that the coffee table will have to do.

There’s one last thing to do before he walks in the door. Like you said, you and Jack have only been dating for a couple of months. You’d finally worked up the courage to wear his number to the two home games before his injury. At the first, you’d worn a little beaded bracelet with the number ‘86’ squeezed between a bunch of red, white, and black beads. At the second, you’d worn a jean jacket with an ‘8’ and a ‘6’ ironed onto the breast-pocket of the jacket, done by one of your more fabrically talented friends at your request. Jack had quirked a smile at both, but planted a kiss on your cheek after the jean jacket and murmured something about how you’d have to wear his jersey and cheer him on while he’s on the road. 

That was the plan, until he’d gotten injured. You hope that it doesn’t add insult to injury– no pun intended– to wear it now. After all, you’re still Jack’s biggest cheerleader. Now, you’re just… cheering him through his recovery instead. 

You tug off Jack’s big sweatshirt, which you totally hadn’t stolen when you’d been missing him after he’d left for Colorado, and toss it into the corner of his closet. He’s got a few random jerseys in here, which shouldn’t surprise you, even though you thought that the jerseys stayed at the rink. Aren’t they part of the equipment? Or does every player get to have a couple of jerseys to do with what they wish?

You choose his classic red, pulling it over your head. The sleeves reach your fingertips and the length falls past your hips. It’s a big garment. That makes sense, you guess, since they have to wear pads and stuff underneath it. It covers the pretty panties you’d chosen to wear for Jack in case he felt up for sex– when is he not, to be fair– and the matching bra that pushes your tits up and shows them off. You’ve also splurged on a pair of sheer, black stockings that only come up to your mid-thigh. There’s lace trim that accentuates the hem of the stockings and you tug it up to make sure they don’t slide down. You want them to be securely in place when Jack finds you in the apartment. 

You look at yourself in the mirror. The stockings are coquette in a vixen-like, sirenous way. There’s a sliver of your skin visible between the lace of the stockings and the hem of Jack’s jersey. You look dwarved in it and you know that Jack will like that. He’s got a thing for throwing you around and showing off how strong his training makes him. Unfortunately, he’s got that pesky shoulder injury, so he won’t be doing much of that anymore– not for a while. Your hair is messy from brushing it out of your face as you decorated the apartment, then eventually tying it up as best you could. Some strands escaped and the elastic you used is old and loose, but your hair looks effortlessly good. This is a hairstyle that you’ll never be able to recreate because it’s so messy and haphazard. You’re about to whip your phone out to take a picture when you hear the front door swing open and a suitcase roll into the atrium ahead of Jack. 

You hear his confused “What the–” and the two tentative steps he takes into the apartment before you grab the paper crown from atop your bag, exit the bedroom, and reveal yourself.

“Welcome home!” you exclaim, skipping forward towards Jack. 

His eyes light up when he sees you, which takes away from the sting of sympathy that nips at your heart when you see his slinged arm. He opens his other arm and wraps it around your waist once you’re close enough, pulling you into his body and pressing a kiss to your hair. “Baby,” Jack says, grin dancing across his face. “Did you do all this?”

You pull back and place the flimsy crown on his head. It falls crooked almost immediately, so you have to fix it again. You’re surprised Jack’s hair wasn’t already hidden beneath a hat of some kind after such a long day of travel. “Mhm,” you confirm. “Wanted to do something nice so you didn’t come home to an empty apartment.”

Jack leans forward and pecks your lips, his available hand splayed over the small of your back. He presses your torsos together. “You’re so thoughtful. I missed you.”

“I missed you more,” you chirp back. It’s still early in the relationship. You’re allowed to do the “I missed you more, I missed you most” bit without feeling like it’s too middle-school. 

Jack finds it silly, but in a fond way, so he rarely ever completes the superlative. He just cuts his eyes at you, then rolls them in faux-exasperation. “Yeah, yeah,” he says. “Whatever you say.” He loosens his grip around your waist. “Let me get a good look at you. Are you wearing my jersey?”

You step back and pop your hip, posing for Jack. “What do you think?”

“I think you wear it better than I do,” Jack replies. His mouth is crooked as he smirks at you. “The socks are a nice touch. You couldn’t find any tube ones to match mine? The ones that go over my leg pads?”

He’s just teasing, but you frown. That would’ve been fun. You could’ve basically worn his uniform, but a sexier version. “Boo,” you lament with a pout.

Jack tips his head back and laughs. “I’m messing with you, pretty girl. I love it. You know I’m going to have to take it off of you, right? It’s been too long since I’ve gotten my hands on you.”

“Don’t you mean ‘hand,’ singular?” you tease, narrowing your eyes at Jack. “You can’t use both your hands. You have to wear that sling.”

“I can take the sling off for twenty minutes,” Jack replies. When you make a face at him, he raises an eyebrow. He bargains, “I’ll put it back on right after.”

You sidle up close to him, tracing the velcro straps and the long belt that wraps around his neck. “What if I want you to keep it on?” you ask.

Jack smirks at you, eyes glimmering with playfulness. “Then I’d ask if you like seeing me in pain, sweetheart.”

“Seeing you in pain?” you repeat, making your eyes wide and innocent. You ignore the way your heartbeat speeds up as an image of Jack, squirming and whining and overstimulated but bucking his hips into your tight fist, pops into your brain. “I would never enjoy that.”

“Hm.” Jack looks over your face thoughtfully. He wraps his arm around your body again, placing his hand on your asscheek and squeezing before he prompts you. “Jump, baby.”

You wrap your arms around his neck for leverage. “You think you can carry me with one arm?”

“I know I can,” Jack insists, lifting you off the ground with his forearm pressed to the back of your thighs, then holds your behind again once you twine your legs around his waist. “I lift.”

His defensive tone has you laughing and kissing him, distracting him, as he walks down the hallway towards the bedroom. He kisses you back just as passionately, tracing his tongue against yours and nibbling on your lips when you pull back just enough. He pushes the door open with your back, then abruptly tosses you onto the bed.

You shriek and giggle when you fall through the air and land with a bounce, scoffing at Jack with an open mouth. “Oh my God!”

Jack laughs and sticks his tongue out at you, tugging at the straps of his sling until it’s loose enough to slip from his body. He carefully flexes his arm and gets the blood pumping through it again, tugging off his shirt and fumbling with his zipper. 

You lean back on your elbows and spread your legs, knees hooked over the edge of the bed. Jack’s jersey has ridden up, revealing the crotch of your panties but nothing more. 

Jack eyes you with his teeth digging into his bottom lip, shoving his pants and boxers down, leaving him bare before you. 

Your eyes almost immediately grow hooded, fixed on his cock. Jack makes it jump in place, grinning at you when your gaze comes up to his face. You smile back and spread your knees an extra inch, nodding at Jack. 

He takes his cock and fists the base, walking between your legs as he strokes himself slowly. He then drops to his knees and kisses the inside of your thigh, his free palm coming to your stocking-clad shins and tracing up the fabric until he reaches the lace around your thigh. Jack digs his fingers into the lace and begins to drag it down your legs. He kisses each inch of new skin that is revealed, gently removing the stocking before kissing back up your leg and repeating the process on the other side.

Your core has started aching with want, slick probably seeping through your panties. If Jack can tell, he ignores it. 

His movements are slow and measured, reverent. He treats you gently and takes his time with you, like you’re the one who’s injured and in pain. 

You whimper for Jack as his lips pass your knee on the way back up.

His eyes lift and regard you. His lips pause for just a second before he continues his path. His hands slide up your sides, under the jersey, and he pushes it up. His mouth creeps over your stomach and his head hides itself under the dangling fabric of the jersey. Jack is now crouching rather than kneeling, and you scoot back on the bed so he has a more comfortable position. He places a knee on the edge of the bed and inches up your body, still kissing, and finally removes the jersey.

“Can’t wait for you to wear that while I’m actually playing,” Jack tells you quietly before he tosses it away. His fingers tease your entrance, tracing it through your panties. “It’ll inspire me. Remind me of this night.”

“I will,” you promise breathlessly, your hands tracing up Jack’s biceps and digging into his hair, which has only gotten longer since he left. 

“You’d promise anything,” Jack chuckles. He slides his thumb over your clothed clit. “As long as I keep touching you.”

You detest that, but he’s probably right. In order to avoid admitting that, you pull his head forward until his lips mold against yours and his fingers pull your panties to the side. 

Jack’s muscles bend and flex as he pumps his fingers into your heat, starting with two because he just can’t wait to sink his cock into the wet space between your legs. 

You’re immediately reacting to the way his blunt fingertips curl into your walls and press into the gummy flesh, seeking out your sweet spot.

He has to draw back from you, resting his forehead against yours and gnawing on his bottom lip while he watches your face. 

You roll your hips and gasp wantonly when his middle finger prods the spot inside of you. Your eyelashes flutter and you shake, pupils fixing on Jack’s. 

His eyes glow with pride and his smile grows, breathing hard as he bullies his fingers against the spot, his other hand coming up from your waist to your chest and drawing one of your breasts from your bra. He gropes it, thumbs the peak, and pinches your nipple. He dips his head and seals his mouth over it, suckily audibly and flicking his tongue against the skin.

A plea spills from your lips, practically a squeal, and Jack giggles against your skin. He flattens his tongue against your nipple and looks up at you through his eyelashes, scissoring his fingers inside of you until your vision is tinged with black spots. “Take your tits out,” Jack commands softly. “Let me see them.”

You reach a hand behind your body awkwardly and unclasp your bra. 

Jack pulls it off and tosses it behind him. He fucks a third finger into your cunt, stretching you so that you can fit around his width comfortably, and sucks a bruise on your tits, the edge of his mouth overlapping with your areola. 

Your stomach jumps and twists, clenching and crumbling apart when Jack actually licks a stripe up your neck and takes your earlobe between his lips. Your breath stutters and your body writhes, fucking down on Jack’s fingers as you ride out the wave of your first orgasm.

“Good girl,” Jack coos in your ear. “So responsive for me, so ready to take my cock. You didn’t put fresh sheets on the bed, did you? I’d hate for this little wet spot to ruin all your hard work.”

Dazed from your climax, you shake your head.

Jack’s smile reveals his teeth. He kisses your lips, then whispers conspiratorially, “Let’s make it bigger.”

You moan at his tone. Jack’s hands slide down your legs, wrapping them around his waist, and then he flips your bodies so you’re on top. You make a noise of discontent against his mouth, wanting him to fuck you, but Jack shushes you. 

“Give my shoulder a rest, sweetheart,” he says. “I need you to take care of me for a couple of weeks before I’m doing better.”

It’s not possible to argue with that, especially once Jack’s engorged cock slides between your folds and the head bumps your clit. You make a soft ‘oh,’ which Jack drinks up. His tongue pets against yours and you suck on it when it fills your mouth. You feel Jack’s hand sneak between your bodies and circle his base, aligning his tip with your entrance so that you can sink down, still basking in the relaxation of your previous orgasm.

You hum, neck rolling back. You move your hips in a circle, then you change direction, then you start to rock back and forth. 

“That’s it,” Jack praises. His fingers dig into your waist. “My pretty girl.”

“I love how you feel,” you sigh, placing your hands on Jack’s abdomen for leverage. Your mouth is an inch from his, the breath that leaves your lungs mixing with his. Your eyes are closed, forehead resting against his, and Jack’s hands slide to your behind. He pulls you forward, aiding your movement. “Fuck, Jack, it’s nothing like I imagined while you were gone.”

“What did you think of while I was away?” Jack asks, only a hint of desperation in his voice. 

“I was thinking about things we can do that won’t hurt you,” you say. “Until you’re able to use your shoulder again. Then it’ll be like rehab.”

Jack snuffles out a little laugh, the shaky air displacing the hair that is falling from your updo. “Smart. Make me do something I like.”

“I fucked myself with my fingers, bent over my sink,” you tell him abruptly, the memory sparking in your mind when your clit brushes against Jack’s skin. “Imagining you were there, watching me in the mirror.”

“Oh,” Jack says dumbly, his voice thick.

“I thought about how you’d only be able to touch me with one hand and how you wouldn’t be able to decide what to do with me,” you continue. “I thought you’d– oh– hold onto me until I was bruised, just to try and keep me in place.”

“You want me to…” Jack trails off.

His tip brushes your cervix, sending a jolt through you, and you start to fuck yourself on his cock. Jack’s fingertips reflexively dig into your flesh, lifting you with the help of your momentum and slamming you back down on his member.

“Fuck,” Jack adds.

“I imagined you spanking me if I looked away from you,” you admit, your voice breaking off into a desperate ‘yes’ as his hips twitch and fuck up into you.

Jack plants his feet on the mattress and bucks up, matching your bounces in pace and intensity. 

“Thought you’d leave a mark there, too,” you finish. “And come inside me and leave me there, dripping all over the tile.”

Jack makes a choked noise, gasping. “Tell me another,” he requests. “Fuck, baby, we can do whatever you want. What else did you think about?”

“I thought about, shit, I thought about helping you masturbate,” you say. The image of Jack, panting and flushed and squirming as you overstimulate him, pops into your mind again. You whimper and clench down on him, feeling your orgasm build. Your lips come into contact with Jack’s and he kisses you desperately, breaking away only to encourage you to continue. “I thought I’d make you come and then I’d clean you up with my mouth.” You take a deep breath. “And then I’d make you come again on my tongue.”

Jack whimpers brokenly into your mouth. His fingernails dig into the skin of your behind, his hips pistoning into your body even faster. The bedframe is creaking beneath your bodies, shaking with your movements, but Jack just continues. He’s giving you everything he has and it makes your blood thrum through your veins, senses heightened and climax so close.

“I’d– I’d,” you cut yourself off with a silent moan, voice failing you. 

“What?” Jack gasps. His cheeks are pink and his forehead is beading with sweat. “What, baby, fuck, I’m so close, tell me what you’d do.”

“After I make you come in my mouth,” you rush out, trying not to bite your tongue as you speak. “I’d sit on your thighs and grind against them until I come and I’d keep my hand on your cock the whole time, even if you feel like it’s too much, because I know you’ll get hard again, J. Making me come without even touching me would drive you crazy and I’d have to serve you again to satisfy you, can’t leave my boy hanging–” 

You and Jack shudder at the same time. You can feel him losing his rhythm. You open your eyes and are met with the same glassy blue eyes that you’d imagined as you’d coaxed a third round of cum from his tip. Jack’s eyelashes are long and dark and capture your attention before his mouth clumsily collapses against yours, teeth colliding in an ugly, not-sexy way. 

Jack’s moan feels like a glass of cold water trickling down your throat, and the warm spurts of cum filling your insides juxtaposes it in a way that has your mind spinning. 

You’re unraveling atop Jack so intensely that you don’t even realize that your orgasm is washing over his abdomen and hips and joining the wet spot on the bed that Jack had wanted to grow. He succeeds, practically without even trying. All you can feel is the shaking of your thighs and the thumping of your heart in your chest, plus the desperate clutch of Jack’s hands on your skin. 

“Baby, oh my God,” Jack whines. His hips continue to work into you, his nails creating half-moons on your behind. “Keep– oh my God,” he repeats. 

You grind against him, trying to chase the high that is starting to slip from you, but as Jack’s cock softens, the feeling fades away. You let out a soft moan, somewhere between contentment and disappointment that you can’t keep coming forever and ever, and sink into Jack’s touch.

His arms come around your waist and he presses his face into your clavicle. “You’re so fucking sexy,” Jack pretends to complain. “Dirty talking like that, it’s not fair how hot you are.”

“Just being honest,” you quip back. “You asked.”

Jack groans. “I know.” He buries his face between your boobs, muffling his voice. “And we’re going to have to do all of those, I can’t believe there’s a bright side to this fucking injury.”

You smooth his hair back and laugh lightly. “Poor boy, I’m sorry you got hurt. I really wanted to see you in the playoffs this season.”

Jack reveals one stink eye at you, glinting with playfulness like before. “You just wanted the WAG jacket.”

You laugh louder. “I am not that shallow!”

“Are too,” Jack goads into the swell of your breasts.

“Now you’re just being mean,” you whine, pushing at Jack’s good shoulder.

He bites your boob, then peppers your sternum with kisses. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“How?”

He rests his chin between your breasts and grins up at you. “I had some ideas of my own while I was gone.”

[salemlunaa]

VOID STATE EXPLAINED: HOW TO GET THE LIFE YOU DREAM OF ᥫ᭡

A TELL-ALL GUIDE TO THE METHOD EVERYONE IS TALKING ABOUT

so in my asks i have alot of people going “sai, you always go on and on and on and on about the void and different problems people may have, but you never explain what it is and how to get there”And to be honest with you, most of my posts were meant to be that way because i knew of other blogs explaining the void and my blog was just meant to be follow up posts for those who already knew about the void. Although, now i feel more confident and equipped to explain the void in its entirety.

so strap in for this long ass post because this is a gonna be THE guide (if you can’t tell i’m very excited for this post)

i just wanna say that this post is an inspiration and a remix of all those that have inspired me

1. What is the void?

so as you can see yourself and life right now is you in the physical plane (the notorious 3D) you are experiencing the world as *your name* *your lastname*, and your experience is confined by the way that you initially came into the world, being y/n y/ln . The void, originally known as the “I AM” state is when you leave that experience behind, you leave the physical world behind and become nothing and everything at the exact same time. And doing so you can create and destroy absolutely anything in your experience = your reality which is why people call their destination after the void their “dr”=“desired reality”.

2. Why the void?

This method is seen as very effective and efficient once you know how to do it right because it’s a “method” in which your subconscious mind is in full control, which means you can do absolutely anything and that’s not some conspiracy or belief, it is a fact that when entering this subconscious-based meditation state that you can do absolutely anything, which is why i said that you have the power to create and destroy anything in the physical plane, altering your experience. You can change your genetics, your family and friends, your wealth, gender, where you live and much more. You can also redesign things, like a country for you to live in, your age, your s/o’s age, your memories and just your life in general. Just one trip to the void and all that you dream of is yours.

The void doesn’t have to be pitch black you can design it anyway you like, i see alot of people in my dms and asks, saying that the pitch black scares them, but your void can look anyway you want.

personally i’m not scared but i just wanted my void to look cute so i added pink stars to the pitch black

3. How do i get to the void?

There are many ways to get into the void, you can follow a guided many meditation, you can listen to subliminals or waves, you can simply affirm, you can visualise, or you can simply do none of these and go into the void with just the intent, KNOWING that it’s apart of you. You don’t need any method to tap into the void, all you need is yourself and the intent, knowing it’s apart of you and not some magical fairyland. You can enter at anytime of day, because you’re a god and don’t need to be confined to “time”. “Time” is a malleable concept and i’ll be dammed if you guys waste your days because you only believe that you can tap in at night.

4. Problems people have with the void

3 things: wavering, laziness and putting the void on a damn pedestal

a lot of you guys fail to enter the void simply because you try to enter. all the things i have said about the void make it almost impossible to believe, a golden ticket to your dream life with one trip to the void. And because of the fact that we have been conditioned to believe that we have to work for everything we have, this just seems to good to be true. and you see the void as some magical place when it’s YOU, the void is YOU, why do you think you affirm “I Am”? well it’s because the void is literally the state of you being everything but nothing, it is not a place it is a state, hence the void STATE, the “I Am” STATE. it’s a meditative state and that’s it.

When you enter the "I AM" state, why do you affirm phrases like "I am, I am pure consciousness, I am the void, I am unattached to any reality, I am faceless and formless"? It's because these affirmations align you with your divine essence, your true God Self. However, this practice is often short-lived. You enter this state briefly, and when you don't experience any immediate changes or wake up in the same shitty reality, you begin to doubt. You think, "Why hasn't it worked? I must be doing something wrong. I'll try again tonight." This is what wavering looks like. You declare yourself to be in the "I AM" state, but when it doesn’t immediately manifest, you believe it hasn't worked and attempt to re-enter it repeatedly. This endless cycle of trying can confuse your subconscious mind. Instead of truly embodying the state, you're constantly oscillating, creating inconsistency and doubt.

STOP TRYING AND START BEING, OR YOU WILL GET NOWHERE

the void is the easiest thing ever and it is owed to you, because it is you

you can literally enter right now and have every single thing you’ve ever wanted, with just a meditation state, the void isn’t the one with the power it’s you. The void is inside of you and it is lifeless, the only time it gains any power is when YOU step into the equation. As i once said, the void is your bitch not the other way around.

5. Unhealthy relationships

Although the void is one of the best methods i know, i would hate for anyone to accumulate an unhealthy, toxic relationship with the void. The void is as easy as breathing, i know, but it can be alot for some of us to wrap our heads around due to the way we have been conditioned to think (which hurts my heart more than you know). I see people spend months and years trying to get into the void going through an emotionally taxing experience with it. Although i tell people it doesn’t matter how much time you’ve “wasted” and not to let that discourage you because you could really enter now if you put your mind to it (no pun intended) , if you know that it has been eating you up trying for the void going around a constant cycle, please take a break or use other methods.

now with that i say go, go and redesign yourself, deconstruct yourself and create the new you, start from scratch and make your dream self, go to the void and get your dream life.

don’t try, just be 🌊💋

i really hope you loved this as much as i do, now go get your dream life -salem ᥫ᭡

[demigoddessqueens]

Based off DM request from @msvirgoflower because this is a total rom-com cliche 😆

Castlevania boys [Drac, Alucard, Isaac, Hector, and Trevor] to how they would react if their s/o came back home after drinking heavily with friends and while trying to help them to bed when they get home their drunk s/o slaps them and is all like "Whoa back the f#$% up! I am off the market- I gots me a man and he'll kick your ass!

Prompts HERE

VALENTINES LIST

♡ [ trope ] to do cliche things with them, just because

Dracula

A dark chuckle rumbles from his chest as you slur out your words but he’ll indulge in the inebriation just for a moment.

“Oh you do? Well I imagine they would be protective over one such as lovely as yourself”

Trevor

Chances are he’s a bit drunk but nowhere near as buzzed as you

He’ll be slightly pouty and whiny, clinging onto you tightly, saying stuff like “yeah! and it’s me! Unless there’s someone else eyeing you…!”

Alucard

Maybe slightly annoyed but also stifling his laugh as you speak your mind to him

“Oh you do? They just be worried sick if you’re out here by yourself. Come, I’ll safely return you to them.”

Isaac

Calm demeanor but also with an exasperated look 😑 he tries to keep you steady

“And your lover would very much care if you were away from a crowd of rubes. Here, take my arm.”

Hector

It’s one of the rare occasions you get a genuine smile and laugh from him as he’s holding onto your shoulder

“Yes, love, and it’s me, hurry before you catch a cold or attract more attention.”

[ruloaapaul]

STORYTIME BITCHES — HOW I ACCIDENTALLY SLEEP PARALYZED MYSELF INTO THE VOID STATE.

you wanna hear a little story time about how i fucking slid into the void state like it was my DMs at 2 AM? well, grab a snack and buckle the fuck up, because this is about to be the most chaotic, unhinged, and ICONIC void state experience you’ll ever hear. and yes, it all started with fucking sleep paralysis.

***

i was minding my damn business, trying to fall asleep like a normal human being. except—plot twist, bitch—i woke up, but my body DIDN’T. now, I’m no stranger to sleep paralysis. this wasn’t my first rodeo. but usually, i’d get all dramatic, start internally screaming, panicking, and trying to force my body to wake up like i was trapped in a horror movie. not today, satan. this time, i thought, “you know what? fuck it. let’s roll with it.” and baby, that was the best decision I EVER made.

***

so im lying there, completely frozen, staring at the ceiling, unable to even wiggle a toe. normally, this is where people start panicking. but i said, “NOPE. we’re gonna turn this sht into a spiritual awakening.” instead of fighting it, i just relaxed into it. And that’s when things got weird as fuck.

***

all of a sudden, my body started feeling weightless. like, full-on “i just smoked something illegal” type of floating. my arms? gone. my legs? didn’t know her. my entire physical body? irrelevant. it felt like i was sinking and floating at the same time, like my consciousness just detached from my body. and at this point, i had two options:

1. freak out and fuck it all up.

2. stay calm and become the baddest void-state diva alive.

so, obviously, i chose option 2.

***

the next thing i knew, i was in a space of pure blackness. no thoughts, no body, no sense of time—just infinite stillness. it wasn’t scary. it wasn’t boring. it was just… nothingness. and bitch, let me tell you, it was the most peaceful thing i’ve ever felt. this was it. this was the VOID STATE. now, you know me—i wasn’t about to waste this golden opportunity just floating around like some lost soul. i had shit to manifest.

***

once i realized i was in the void, i got straight to work. i didn’t waste time asking questions. i didn’t overthink it. i just stated my desires like the main character that I am.

“i have unlimited confidence.” boom, felt it sink in immediately.

“i manifest money effortlessly.” boom, i could feel abundance already flowing my way.

“my life is a fucking dream.” boom, reality bent to my will.

i wasn’t asking for these things. i wasn’t hoping for them. i just said it, felt it, and it was done. and that, my friends, is the real power of the void state. no resistance. no effort. just instant manifestation.

***

at some point, my body decided it was done being paralyzed, and i snapped right the fuck back into my bed. one second, i was vibing in the void, the next? i was staring at my ceiling like i just got hit by a cosmic bus.

and let me tell you, i felt DIFFERENT. i felt powerful. like i had just hacked the universe and came back with all the cheat codes. my energy was unmatched. and here’s the wildest part—everything i affirmed in the void started showing up in my real life.

my confidence? next level.

opportunities? popping up out of nowhere.

money? rolling in like the universe was throwing me a fucking parade.

and all i did was lay there, accept the void, and state what I wanted.

***

[hoonieyun]

locked up

locked up

pairing: lee heeseung x reader “y/n”

genre: angst, criminal!heeseung (kinda), bad boy x good girl

warnings: violence, jail, cops, drugs and alcohol, profanity, suggestive, adult themes, 18+

summary: when a night out with your girls turns into you having to convince a police officer that you’re not a part of the group of guys that got into a brawl at the club, you soon realize that you’ve caught the eyes of a certain boy in a black leather jacket. 

notes: this was completely self indulgent after i saw these photos of heeseung… also... anyone interested in a part2?? 🫣 anyways enjoy (not proofread haha!!) 

word count: 2943

the music from outside of the bathroom club was bumping, walls slightly shaking at the loud music, neon lights flashing, and a line was building outside of the women’s bathroom. you were 3 people deep in the bathroom, you and your friends ningning and karina. you were sat on the toilet, peeing out all the alcohol you had drank, ningning was in the mirror fixing her makeup, and karina was glued to her phone; probably still arguing with her ex.

the whole reason you were at the club tonight was to help karina get over her ex. she found out that he had a whole other girlfriend that he was hiding when she came across the other girl’s instagram account. several of the photos being of the girl inside of a car that resembled her ex’s car a little too well. after an instagram DM starting with “hey girlie <3” to the other girl, they soon exchanged not only numbers but both of their dating history with their now ex. 

he had been two timing the both of them for the last 6 months. needless to say, he’s now single and you were now at the club with your friends trying to get karina’s mind off of it. 

“y/n, are you done yet? this is my song!” ningning asks and you tell her and karina that it’s fine if they wanna go back out. you guys bid each other a quick farewell as the girls head back out to the club’s dancefloor. you soon followed after getting yourself situated, fixing your hair and reapplying some lip gloss. you blew the mirror a little kiss before you made your way out, trying to find where your two best friends have gone. 

you narrow your eyes as you scan the dance floor to find your friends, the neon lights of the club not aiding you in any way. you huff out a sigh after not finding them so you look for a new approach as you head up to the second floor of the club. standing on the mezzanine, you scan the dance floor from above to look for your friends and just before you’re able to find them, the music at the club abruptly stops and the DJ is making an announcement on the mic. 

the DJ stops the music and calls out a group of people at a section of the club that seemed to be right under the mezzanine, out of your field of vision. the DJ calls for security to break up a fight that has started and at first you brush it off because there was no way your friends would be in a fight right now but that was until you heard your best friend’s voice, “fuck you! get the fuck off of him!” ningning yells and your eyes widen at her voice. with a sense of urgency you run back down the stairs and try to push your way through to get to your friends. 

knowing ningning when she gets drunk, she not only gets louder than usual, but she also gets the energy of a gigantic bodybuilder ready for a brawl. 

after going through the crowd of people and reaching your friends, you see ningning, a glass in hand ready to throw at one of the guys, karina is holding her back while a group of guys you didn’t know were fighting with one another. 

you quickly run over to ningning, who was still yell profanities and threats to the group of men, you reach for the glass in her hand just before she tosses it at the guys who were fighting with one another. “oh my god what the fuck is happening?” you say as you set the glass on one of the tables and your friends avert their gaze towards you. 

“these idiots ran into me while they were fighting and i spilled my fucking drink!” ningning says, looking down at her dress; an apparent wet stain just on her abdomen where the drink must’ve spilled. “karina why are you crying?” you ask her, wiping her tears with your fingers as you try to get an answer out of her. 

“i don’t know!” she says while sobbing as more tears come out of her eyes. you roll your eyes at her with a sigh as you try to get your friends to leave the club. 

“excuse me! maam! you three need to come with us.” a security guard says and you shoot him a confused look. “what? why? we weren’t a part of that!” you tell him, referring to the group of men who were now broken up and being held back by several security guards. he gives you a look of denial, indicating that he didn’t believe you, but he gestures to ningning who was now back to cussing out the men as they were hauled out by the security guards. 

you roll your eyes at ningning, at a loss for words, and just as you’re about to explain further; one of the guys being kicked out catches your eye. a tall boy in a black leather jacket, dark tusseled hair, and a charming smile attached to a handsome face. he quickly looks you up and down, his smirk widening at the sight of you, “what’s up mama?” he says with a chuckle as the security guard pushes him further out of the club. 

you were stunned by him but are taken out of your thoughts when you hear ningning and karina behind, calling out to you. 

“y/n! help they’re kidnapping me!” karina says, very apparent that she was still drunk. 

“come on miss, you guys need to leave.” the security says, slightly putting his hand on your back. you quickly retreat away from him when you feel his touch, brushing away his hand with a disgusted look, “i’m leaving! don’t touch me!” you yell, shooting him a glare as you follow your two friends being escorted out of the building. 

as you exit the building, the cold night air embraces you, giving you goosebumps. you’re met with red and blue lights as you see several cop cars outside of the club. the group of guys had gotten separated and were now being questioned by different police officers and you also seen ningning talking to an officer, arms being thrown in the air as she explains her side of the story while karina stands to the side, still sobbing. 

you walk over to ningning and karina and a police officer puts out his hand in front of you in an act to stop you, “she’s with us.” ningning says and the cop let’s you join. ningning explains what happened, how they weren’t a part of the group of guys who got in a fight but because she got involved by yelling and throwing a bottle; she had to come down to the precinct with everyone else. 

“you threw a bottle?” you ask her after hearing the new information. she shoots you a sheepish smile and you look over to karina who was silently nodding. eventually the cop says ningning has to get inside the car so you tell her it’ll be all fine and that you’ll follow behind and meet her there. 

you grab karina and hook your arm with hers as you walk towards your car, having already sobered up enough to drive. you helped karina get in the car, buckling her seatbelt, as she babbles on about how she’s so sad ningning is going to jail and you guys weren’t going to be able to see her ever again. 

“i’m going to miss her… we should drink in her honor.” karina says and you just laugh at her statement as you step into the drivers seat. “she’s just going in for questioning, she’s not dead, karina.” you explain and it seems karina doesn’t hear anything but the word dead. 

“NINGNING IS DEAD?” karina says, now sobbing hysterically as she hears your news. you give her a tight lipped smile as you rub her back. “okay, sweeheart.” you say as you turn the key in the ignition. 

the drive to the precinct isn’t long but it feels like eternity as you go over all of the possible outcomes of tonight. would ningning end up being locked up? did you guys even have enough money to bail her out?

you and karina walk into the police station and the bright white lights are blinding and if you weren’t sober before, you definitely were now. you sit karina down on one of the chairs and she starts chatting it up with a random stranger who was handcuffed to the chair. she begins rambling about her ex and the stranger seems to actually be actively listening and gives her advice. 

the lady at the front desk tells you that you have to wait until ningning is “let out”, as if she was actually locked up, until she can tell you what to do next to help her out. 

just as you’re about to sit down next to karina, a boy walks through a door that leads to the back. the same boy that seemed to make you feel giddy back at the club. his charm oozed through as he strolled through the building. his black leather jacket clung loosely to his body but you could tell he had broad shoulders but you were left imagining what could be under the black shirt that hugged his body tightly. 

he was leaning on the receptionist's counter, waiting to fill out some paperwork as the lady at the desk sifted through several folders of paper, eyes set on you and a smirk still on his face. you tried ignoring his gaze but you couldn’t help but glance over at him. when your eyes meet, he shoots a wink at you and heat begins to rise in your cheeks as you blush at his flirtacious gesture. 

you slowly walk over to him, trying to keep your cool, but in all honesty; you were nervous. you hadn’t dated anyone in a long while and if you were being frank, this boy seemed like bad news but you couldn’t help but feel like you were being pulled towards him. like there was a magnetic pull in between the two of you. 

“hey, what’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?” he says and although the line was a bit cringe and outdated, it certainly worked on you. you blush and laugh at his statement and explain why you were there. he laughs at your answer and you soon learn that he was the one who accidentally ran into ningning and was on the opposing end of the bottle that she threw. you apologize on her behalf but explain that he should’ve seen it coming. he nods, “yeah, true. wish it was you instead though. then i may not have been so upset.” he says, clearly flirting with you and you can’t help but blush. at this point you were probably as red as a tomato but you wished that the conversation wouldn’t end. 

“ahem!” the lady behind the counter clears her throat, gaining both of your attention. “fill this out.” she says, monotone and a stoic gaze as she slides over a pile of papers towards him. that was when you realized you still hadn’t gotten his name. 

a few minutes, he was donefilling out the paper and handed it over to the lady. flashing her a smile and it somehow changes her mood. the lady does a complete 180 and is suddenly very nice, smiling, and even blushing at him. his charm was just undeniable and he surely had that effect. was that a red flag? maybe. but you didn’t care. 

he turns back to you and before he can say another word, you hear karina yell out ningning’s name and jump out of her seat. you turn around and look at her and she’s waving at ningning so you peer behind the boy and there was ningning. walking through the same exact doors the handsome stranger had walked through just a few moments ago. “give me a sec.” you say with a smile as you run over to ningning. 

the three of you hug one another and ningning tells you that someone bailed her out. “what, really?” you say, wondering who it could’ve been. “i’m glad you’re alive!” karina says and ningning just looks at her, “long story.” you explain and she just nods; hugging karina even tighter. 

“do you know who bailed you out?” you ask her and she shrugs, “mmm all i know is his name is lee heeseung.” she explains and the three of you ponder if you knew anyone by that name. you excuse yourself from the girls for a second and head back to the handsome stranger who was patiently waiting for you to return so you could continue your conversation. 

“so when do i get to know your name?” he says and you do just that, sharing your name, and he nods. “beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” he says flirtingly and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t give you butterflies in your stomach. “i’m heeseung by the way.” finally telling you his name. 

you nod at his name, repeating it in your head when you realize something, “heeseung? like lee… heeseung?” you ask and he says “yup!” while popping the p. “did you happen to bail out my friend? the one that threw the bottle at you?” you ask and he nods. explaining that it was the least he could do after spilling a drink on her and getting all three of you wrapped up in all of their mess. you shake your head at him, smiling at his kind gesture, thanking him as you drag him towards your two friends. 

“hey! you’re the fucker that ran into me and spilled my drink!” ningning says and you put your hands up in front of you in order to stop her. “ning! wait! he paid for your bail!” you explain and she instantly backs down. he once agains explains why he did it and ningning forgives him but still narrows her eyes at the man. saying that she forgives him but she won’t forget it. “you’re lucky she’s alive!” karina adds and the three of you just look at her in confusion. “long story…” you say once again. 

the four of you walk out of the police station, “bye sir!” karina says, waving goodbye to the man who was handcuffed to the chair, waving back at her. you and heeseung walking behind your two best friends as they make their way to your car, yelling a couple times that the two of them were walking towards the wrong car. before you and heeseung reach your car, he stops you, grabbing your wrist and twirling him around to face him. “i know we started off on the wrong foot, but can i take out sometime?” he asks and although you make it seem like you gave it some thought, in your head it was an instant yes. 

heeseung smiles at your acceptance and you switch phones to exchange numbers. “see you around, pretty girl.” heeseung says, shooting you another wink paired with his charming smile. “have a goodnight heeseung!” you say and you weren’t sure what compelled you but you tiptoe up to him and give him a kiss on the cheek. as you’re pulling away from him you realize what you did so in an effort to cover up your spontaneous action, you thank him once again for bailing your best friend out. 

“you better not break her heart or else i’ll break your nose!” ningning yells from inside of your car and you just laugh at her, apologizing to heeseung about her but he says it’s fine. “she’s just protective, i get it. i’ll be sure to prove myself to both of you.” heeseung explains and you don’t know why but those simple words hit close to you. a sense of comfort knowing that not only was he willing to prove himself worthy of your trust but also the trust of your closest friends. 

you watch heeseung walk back into the station, telling you that he needed to wait for his friends to get out. after joining your friends in the car and making sure they have their seatbelts on. ningning responds with a yes but you hear nothing from karina. the two of you look into the backseat and she has fallen asleep but had her seatbelt keeping her up from slumping over. as you’re about to pull out of the parking lot and head back to your apartment, you receive a text. 

from: future boyfriend

looking forward to our date, pretty girl.

can’t wait to feel those lips again. 

you couldn’t help but smile and laugh at his text. like you were a little girl all over again talking to her crush for the very first time. you shoot him a text before driving off and he wishes for you to drive safe. 

after settling your friends in your guest room, you finish getting unready and find yourself cozying up in bed. you spend several hours of the night texting with heeseung and at some point he calls you on facetime, to which you end up on call until 5 in the morning. falling asleep on the phone with one another. 

needless to say, you dreamt about heeseung, his charming smile, radiant eyes, and enchanting demeanor. thankful that he didn’t end up getting locked up. 

copyright 2024 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved

all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned.

[melodyreads]

Matchmaker

hamzah x reader

summary: The reader's friend has been trying make a move at Hamzah ever since she started seeing his online personality. While the reader tries to be a supportive friend, her feelings seem to be getting in the way of things. What if he feels the same?

this came to me in a dream, hope y'all enjoy

---

"Oh my god I can't do this"

It had been like this for almost an hour now.

You and your friend Holly were in the bathroom of Mandy and Martin's apartment. Music echoed in the background as Y/n leaned against the bathroom door tapping her foot as she started to get impatient.

"Seriously girl, just go talk to him. It's really not that deep, you're making it harder than it needs to be."

Y/n didn't care if she was being blunt it was what her friend needed to hear. She had always prided herself on being a good friend. Always offering to be the DD. Always listening to the boy's problems no matter how often she recommended the friend should just break up with him. So after Holly begged her to try and hook her up with Hamzah, the answer would obviously be yes. Why wouldn't it be? Being straightforward and honest came easy, so why did she feel she was holding something back.

She gripped the door handle once more, "Just follow my lead, it's all gonna work out."

Holly let out a sigh of relief, "Seriously Y/n.. what would I do without you."

Y/n flashed her a reassuring smile before turning with a more serious expression flashed her face. Y/n knew that this was Holly's first time actually meeting Hamzah, but it definitely wasn't hers.

Hamzah had been talking to Y/n over Instagram DM's for months now. From casual replies to story posts to sending each other random memes, it was easy to determine they would get along once they finally met each other at a party.

It was almost intimidating how well they got along, Y/n admired all the effort he put into his channel and how well he managed it all. Turns out, thousands of girls felt the same way.

With Holly's hand in yours, you searched for a familiar face through the crowd until you ran into Mandy.

She turned around looking surprised, "There you are! I've been searching everywhere for you two." Mandy pointed behind her, the boys have been so obsessed with that karaoke machine, I should have never purchased it."

Y/n looked past Mandy to see Hamzah and Martin singing karaoke together as if it were a competition on who could make the most noise. Hamzah wore a pink colored shirt that fit him a little too good with a hat that allowed his dark curls to peak through.

"That's a inappropriate way to describe your friend" she thought silently.

Y/n thanked Mandy before walking up to the boys with microphones. As she approached them she could feel a slight tug on her arm as she turned around to meet Holly's worried expression.

"Don't worry" she mouthed as she continued her way over to the duo. Her heart seemed to beat harder as she reached out to touch the arm of curly-haired boy. Probably due to him being the subject of the night.

As he turned to look at you, Hamzah's face practically lite up at the sight of your face.

"Y/n! Where have you been?" He reached down and hugged you with his one free hand and still held the microphone in the other. "I kept asking Mandy about where you ran off to." Y/n chuckled into the embrace. "I wasn't even gone that long,"

"Felt like ages." He muttered. Y/n tried not to think about how just one arm completely wrapped around her waist and how his fingers dug into her hips just right.

Holly cleared her throat.

"Shoot" She almost forgot why she was here.

Y/n released Hamzah with a jolt as she stepped to the side to introduce her friend, "I wanted you to meet Holly. Holly this is Hamzah, Hamzah this is Holly."

"You said that already" Holly said softly.

"Did I? Well... you get my point." Y/n looked back to Hamzah to see him he was staring back at her almost in disbelief.

Hamzah blinked, as if suddenly snapping out of a daze. His usual easygoing smirk returned, and he turned to Holly with a friendly nod.

"Hey, nice to meet you," he said, extending his hand.

Holly hesitated for a second before shaking it, her grip noticeably stiff. Y/n could feel the tension rolling off her friend, and she silently begged Holly to just relax. This was what she wanted, right?

"You too," Holly replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Y/n talks about you a lot."

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat. Did she really? Before she could gauge Hamzah’s reaction, he chuckled, looking between the two girls.

"All good things, I hope?"

Y/n forced a laugh, ignoring the way her palms suddenly felt clammy. "Mostly," she teased, hoping to lighten the mood. "Except for the part where you butcher every song you sing."

Hamzah gasped dramatically. "Excuse you, I was putting on a performance. It’s about passion, not pitch."

Martin, who had been silently watching the exchange with an amused grin, finally spoke up. "Man, you’re gonna pretend like you weren’t just screaming into the mic?"

Hamzah shrugged. "I was creating a vibe."

Y/n rolled her eyes, but she was grateful for the slight shift in energy. She glanced at Holly, who still looked nervous but was at least smiling now. That was progress.

"Speaking of vibes," Hamzah said, tilting his head. "You’re acting different tonight."

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat. "Different how?"

His eyes searched hers, as if trying to figure something out. "I dunno," he admitted. "Just... different."

Holly laughed, breaking the moment. "Probably because she’s been hyping me up for this conversation all night."

Hamzah raised an eyebrow. "This conversation?"

Y/n winced. So much for being subtle.

"She thinks you and Holly would make a great match," Martin chimed in, completely oblivious to the way Y/n’s stomach twisted at hearing it said out loud.

For a split second, something flickered in Hamzah’s expression—too fast for Y/n to catch. Then, he smiled. "Oh yeah?"

Holly nodded quickly. "I mean, yeah. You seem cool. And I think we’d get along?"

It came out more like a question than a statement, and Y/n resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands. She wanted to help, but something about this whole situation felt... off.

Hamzah glanced at Y/n again before turning back to Holly. "Well, I appreciate the intro," he said smoothly. "But I gotta admit, I didn’t expect this."

Y/n frowned. "Expect what?"

He hesitated, then grinned. "You playing matchmaker."

Her stomach dropped. There was something in the way he said it, something that made her feel like she had completely miscalculated. Before she could respond, Hamzah lifted his mic again.

"Anyway," he said, turning to Martin. "We got a song to finish."

And just like that, the moment was over.

Y/n watched as he walked away, laughing as Martin passed him the next song choice. Holly exhaled beside her.

"That wasn’t terrible," she murmured.

Y/n nodded numbly, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had just shifted. And she wasn’t sure if she liked it.

--

The night continued as if nothing had happened. Holly chatted away, occasionally stealing glances at Hamzah, and Y/n did her best to stay present in the conversation. But her mind was elsewhere.

She kept replaying Hamzah’s words in her head. You playing matchmaker.

Why did it sound like there was something more behind them?

After a while, Holly got up to get another drink, and Martin was too busy butchering the lyrics to some 2000s throwback to notice the way Y/n was zoning out.

That’s when she felt someone slide into the seat beside her.

"Hey," Hamzah said, voice lower than usual.

Y/n turned to him with a surprised look plastered on her face. "...Hey."

He exhaled, drumming his fingers on the table. "So... Holly, huh?"

Y/n forced a smile. "Yeah. She’s great, right?"

Hamzah tilted his head, studying her. "She seems nice."

There was something careful about his tone, something measured. Y/n suddenly felt exposed, like he could see right through her.

"You don’t seem convinced," she pointed out.

He let out a soft chuckle. "It’s not that." He paused, then shook his head. "I just—I need to ask you something."

Y/n’s stomach tightened. "Okay?"

Hamzah leaned in slightly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why are you trying so hard to set me up with someone else?"

Her breath hitched. Feeling as though she had just been accused of murder. "What?"

"You heard me." His eyes searched hers, serious now. "Is it because you actually think we’d be good together? Or because you’re trying to convince yourself of something?"

Y/n’s pulse quickened. "That’s not—"

"Because if it’s the second one," he continued, his gaze unwavering, "then I need you to tell me right now."

Y/n swallowed hard. The air around them felt heavier, charged. "Hamzah, I was just trying to—"

"To ignore this?" he interrupted.

She froze.

Hamzah ran a hand through his hair, as if frustrated with himself. "Look, I wasn’t gonna say anything. I thought maybe I was imagining things. But then you tried to push me toward Holly, and all I could think was—why would you do that? Unless you were trying to avoid something."

Y/n’s heart was pounding now.

Before she could react, he reached out, gently taking her hand in his. It wasn’t dramatic, wasn’t rushed. Just quiet, steady.

"Tell me I’m wrong," he said. "Tell me there’s nothing here, and I’ll drop it."

Y/n opened her mouth, but no words came out. Because she couldn’t say it.

"What would Holly think?"

As if he could read her mind Hamzah sighed and spoke again, "Can you please stop thinking about what everyone else wants and just tell me.. what do you want?"

Y/n felt a pang of guilt matched with a sudden urge to jump on top of the boy in front of her.

Hamzah exhaled, his grip tightening just slightly. "Y/n, I like you."

The words settled between them, heavy and undeniable.

She sucked in a sharp breath. "You—"

"I like you," he repeated, softer this time. "Not Holly. Not anyone else. And I think... I think you feel the same way."

Y/n felt like the entire world had just shifted.

Because, for the first time, she couldn’t run from it.

But she was done running.

Y/n placed her hand on the side of Hamzah's face and pulled him in for a kiss that made her forget about every person that could be watching around her.

He matched her vigor as their lips moved against each other with fever. His free hand grabbed at her waist as if it would disappear if he let it go for too long while his other hand softly ran up and down the arm still cupping his face.

Y/n broke the kiss with a shaky breath as she finally spoke, "I like you too."

The moment the words left her lips, something in Hamzah’s expression shifted. Relief. Something deeper.

"You do?" he asked, as if he needed to hear it again to believe it.

Y/n let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. "Yeah. I do."

A slow, lopsided smile spread across his face. "Then why were you trying to set me up with Holly?"

Y/n groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Because I was just trying to make everyone happy. I thought... I don't know, I thought the two of you might have got along and I figured that was more important than what I wanted."

Hamzah chuckled, tugging her hand away from her face. "You really thought that would work?"

She shrugged, feeling suddenly shy. "It was worth a shot."

He shook his head, amused. "Y/n, I’ve only ever had eyes for you."

She felt her breath hitch at these words.

"From the moment we met," he continued, his voice quieter now, "it’s always been you."

Y/n felt her heart squeeze.

And as he laced his fingers through hers, Y/n realized she had been waiting too.

[keraawrites]

Act right

Summary: Surburan Bakugo always got what he wanted, new watch? Got it. New trainers? Got them, you? Now that he had to work for you, especially as you laughed in his face and told him he wasn't your type. ۶ৎ Bakugo x black fem reader ۶ৎ

Context: Use of the word Nigga, hoodish reader, tattoos, nipple piercing, nickname (baby, mama, ma), unprotected sex, oral (m&f receiving), doggy, kitchen counter,

Babble: ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚Happy birthday to the one and only King explosion murder God ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Word count — 4.8k

The party was packed. Warm bodies pressed together, bass shaking the walls, the air thick with liquor and smoke. It was the type of function where people came to be seen—and if there was one thing Bakugo hated, it was being just another face in the crowd.

But that was before he saw you.

Standing by the couch, one hand wrapped around a hookah hose, the other lazily scrolling through your phone, you didn’t even look like you were trying. Skin glowed under the neon lights, nails long and glossy as they clacked against the screen. Your baby hairs were slicked to perfection, and your outfit? Hugging your body in ways that made more than a few heads turn.

Bakugo didn’t move at first. Just stood there, tongue running over his teeth, watching the way you took a slow drag from the hookah before exhaling, like you had all the time in the world.

“Tch,” he scoffed, knocking back the rest of his drink before making his way over. Heads turned as he passed—because of course they did. He wasn’t just anybody. His family had money. Real money. He was used to girls being all over him before he even had to say a word.

You looked up when he got close, one perfectly arched brow raising like you weren’t the least bit impressed. Bakugo smirked, bracing a hand on the couch beside you.

“What’s your name, ma?”

You exhaled another slow stream of smoke. “Why?”

His grin widened. “So I know what to call you when I’m makin’ you cream on my cock later.”

That’s when you did it. The worst possible thing he could imagine.

You laughed.

Not a cute little giggle. Not a shy little smirk. A real, full-blown, damn near disrespectful laugh.

And then you turned to your friend like, “Girl, he funny as hell.”

Bakugo blinked. Did you just—did you just laugh at him? Like he was a joke?

You turned back to him, still grinning. “First of all, lil’ boy, you not even my type.”

Little boy?

“Mmhmm.” You tapped his chest lightly with one manicured finger, like you were humoring him. “I like my men real. Rough hands. You look like you had a maid till you was damn near grown.”

Bakugo sucked his teeth. “What, you want a bum?”

“I want a man.”

The challenge in your eyes sent a spark of heat through his veins. Oh, you thought he was just some soft little trust fund baby? Thought he didn’t know shit about struggle?

That was cute.

“That why you over here playin’ games?” Bakugo asked, tilting his head.

You sucked your teeth. “Ain’t nobody playin’ wit’ you, boy. I just know yo’ type.”

“Yeah?” His voice dropped. “And what type is that?”

You leaned in, voice honey-sweet. “The type to get whatever he want… except me.”

Then you turned, real smooth, and strutted off—leaving Bakugo standing there, fists clenched, jaw tight and a fucking hard-on.

For someone who claimed he “didn’t chase,” Bakugo sure had been on your ass since the party.

It started with a follow request. You let it sit. Then came the first DM:

Bakugo: Yo.

Simple. Direct. No emojis. No fluff. You left him on read.

A few hours later:

Bakugo: You mad dry.

Bakugo: Bet you be eatin’ up these other dudes' messages tho.

You smirked at your phone, amused, but kept it moving.

By the next morning, he had liked three of your pictures—ones where you knew you looked good, but not the thirst traps. Nah, he went for the casual heat, like the one of you posted up in your car with your lip gloss popping, or the one where you were holding your godchild, just vibing.

Bakugo: You always this hard to get in touch with?

You: You always this pressed?

Bakugo: Tch. Keep playin' like I won’t pull up.

You hit him with the ultimate disrespect: a single, cold “lol.”

And if that wasn’t a downright invitation then he didn’t know what was.

He started showing up at functions you were at—always looking good, always staying just close enough for you to notice. And when you'd walk past?

"Oh, so you don’t see me?"

Loud. Too loud. Making sure everyone heard.

You’d roll your eyes, playing it off. “Boy, ain’t nobody worried about you.”

But honestly? You were noticing.

How he never let another girl get too close. How he wasn’t just flexing money—he was dripping with raw confidence. And that smirk? It was cocky as hell, but his eyes? His eyes were locked on you, like you were the only thing worth looking at.

And the texts kept coming.

Bakugo: I know you see me, ma.

You: Do I?

Bakugo: You funny. Let’s grab food.

You: Can’t.

Bakugo: You can. You just don’t wanna.

You: Correct.

He was so deep in it, and you could see the frustration building up in his texts. It was kinda cute.

You found it even funnier how he kept popping up everywhere. Like that night you saw him leaning against his car outside a party, talking to someone—but the moment he saw you, that conversation ended fast.

“Hey, ma,” he said, stepping into your path like he had the right to.

You crossed your arms, trying to keep it cool. “Oh, so we stoppin’ people in the street now?”

He smirked. “If that’s what it takes.”

You shook your head. “Boy, I told you—”

“I know what you told me,” he cut you off, voice dipping low. “And I don’t give a fuck.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “That so?”

The blonde licked his lips, eyes dragging over your outfit—black cargos, a cropped leather jacket, barley hiding the pink velvet bra that cupped your tits, and a chain hanging from your neck with your name in silver. Damn, he’d give anything to have his name there instead.

“C'mon, ma, at least smoke with me. If after tonight you still think I can’t keep up with you, then I’ll leave you alone.”

You eyed him, letting the silence stretch as you bit your lip. Katsuki was sexy, no doubt, but you’d never really given white guys a chance before.

But… free weed?

You sighed, tapping a nail against your phone. “Your weed any good, or we just gonna use up my stash?”

His smirk was instant. He should’ve thought of this weeks ago.

“Baby, we got the same dealer,” he said, stepping closer, voice dripping with confidence. “Trust me—the weed’s good.”

And with that, you found yourself walking toward his car.

Katsuki’s car smelled like leather and faint cologne, the kind that wasn’t overbearing but definitely expensive. You slid into the passenger seat, legs crossed, watching as he pulled out a fresh pack of Backwoods and a jar of weed that was most definitely not mids.

You raised an eyebrow. “So you wasn’t cappin’ about the weed.”

He scoffed, already breaking down the bud with practiced ease. “What I gotta lie for?”

You just hummed, watching his hands work. His fingers were fast, rolling with the kind of efficiency that told you he did this a lot. He tossed the blunt in his mouth, sparked it, and inhaled like it was second nature.

“Ladies first,” he said, exhaling thick clouds before passing it to you.

You took it, bringing it to your lips, letting the familiar burn hit before blowing out slow. “Least you got some manners,” you teased.

“Only ‘cause I want somethin’ from you,” he shot back, eyes gleaming in the low light.

You chuckled, shaking your head as you took another pull. “Honesty is crazy.”

Bakugo leaned back in his seat, legs spread in that way men did when they were too comfortable. “I am honest. Ain’t my fault these other dudes be lyin’ to get what they want.”

“And what exactly do you want?”

He smirked, reaching over to take the blunt from your fingers, the brush of his skin against yours sending a little shiver down your spine. “You know what I want, ma.”

You sucked your teeth but didn’t push it. Instead, you leaned back, letting the high settle in, watching as he turned the volume up on his speakers.

You almost did a double take at the song playing.

“Ain’t no way—”

He smirked. “What?”

“You listen to this?”

He shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I?”

The beat of an old-school R&B track poured through the speakers, something smooth, something you knew. You side-eyed him as the song played, waiting for him to mess up, to skip it, to prove he was just fronting.

But nah. He knew it.

Knew the lyrics, knew the beat drops, even bobbed his head on cue.

You squinted at him. “You really just a lil’ white rich boy or is this a setup?”

He snorted, taking another drag before passing the blunt. “Just ‘cause I grew up with money don’t mean I got no taste.”

You had to admit—that was fair. And the more you sat there, the more you realised he wasn’t just some cocky rich kid trying to flex his way into your life.

The blunt burned slow between your fingers, the smoke curling into the dim air of his car. The vibe had shifted—not completely, but enough. It wasn’t just him flirting anymore, wasn’t just you brushing him off for fun.

“Alright,” Katsuki started, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke before nodding at you. “Ain't gonna lie, you know I Instagram stalked you but what can you tell me that's not on your insta?

You raised a brow, lazily tapping ash into the car’s cup holder. “There's nothing to tell.

He scoffed. “Don’t play dumb. You one of the hardest people to read I ever met.”

That made you smirk. “Good.”

The blonde rolled his eyes, but there was no frustration behind it. “You always this difficult?”

“You always this persistent?” you shot back.

He smirked. “Correct.”

You let the silence settle for a second, the smoke lingering between you before you finally answered. “I dunno. Ain’t much to tell, really. I just be doin’ me.”

“Everybody just be doin’ them,” he said, tilting his head. “What you be doin’ specifically?”

You hesitated for a second. Most dudes didn’t actually care about your answer. They just asked to fill space, to make it look like they gave a fuck. But something about the way Katsuki was looking at you—sharp, focused—told you he wasn’t asking just to hear himself talk.

“…I do nails,” you admitted finally, blowing smoke out slow. “Started in high school, and now I be doin’ sets for a couple IG girls and models.”

Bakugo nodded, looking genuinely impressed. “Shit, that’s tough. You be drawin’ designs and shit too?”

You smirked a little, the praise hitting a spot you hadn’t expected. “Yeah. Custom shit. I don’t like doin’ basic sets.”

He hummed, taking the blunt from you. “That why your nails always look fire?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Stalker."

“If the shoe fits.” He took a hit, exhaling as he leaned back. “I ain’t chasin’ after you for nothin’.”

You shook your head but didn’t say anything, the heat from the weed sitting comfortably in your chest.

“…What about you?” you asked after a moment. “How come you this chill?”

Bakugo side-eyed you, amused. “You sayin’ I ain’t supposed to be?”

You shrugged. “Just thought you’d be more… I dunno. Aggressive? You be actin’ like you got no patience but here you are, still tryna talk to me after I been curvin’ you for weeks.”

He clicked his tongue. “Don’t get it twisted. I’m still impatient as fuck. I just know when somethin’s worth waitin’ for.”

You weren’t expecting that.

You felt it again—that shift. The way the air got a little heavier, the words settling deeper than they probably should have.

You cleared your throat, trying to brush past it. “So? What was it like growing up? Always been this cocky?”

Bakugo snorted. “Hell nah. My mom woulda smacked the shit outta me.”

That made you laugh, full and real. “Really?”

He grinned. “Really. You think I got this mouth from nowhere? Mitsuki Bakugo ain’t play about keepin’ me in check. Always told me to watch how I talk to people—and to shut the fuck up if I wasn’t sayin’ shit worth hearin’.”

You smirked, tilting your head. “She ain’t humble you enough, clearly.”

“Nah, the old bag humbled me plenty.” Katsuki leaned back, passing the blunt again. “Don't know if you know but she's a designer, used to work at home sometimes. And anytime she was in her studio, she had old-school R&B playin’ nonstop.”

Your brows lifted slightly. “For real?”

“Swear. I couldn’t go five minutes without hearin’ some Brandy or Mary J. Blige in the background.” He shook his head like he could still hear it now. “I used to hate that shit. Thought it was corny. But now? Shit’s nostalgic as hell.”

You exhaled smoke through your nose, watching him through the haze. Something about picturing him—loud, brash, rough-around-the-edges Bakugo—growing up with old R&B in the background made something in you soften a little.

Maybe you’d had him wrong. Maybe he wasn’t just cocky. Maybe he was real in a way that most people weren’t.

You tapped your fingers against your thigh, you felt the wave of heat around your body, you couldn't differentiate between the weed and your emotions but you were chalking it up to the weed.

The car was quiet, the hum of his radio filling the silence but it wasn't awkward. Bakugo continued to fill his car with smoke, his head tilted back, eyes closed as he felt the high.

"So when do you plan on taking me out then?"

Bakugo’s lips curved slow, like he’d just won a game he knew he was always gonna win.

"Oh yeah?"

You kissed your teeth "Boy, I will get out of this car."

His smirk deepened, but he didn’t push it. Instead, he just kept looking at you, his gaze dipping slightly—to your lips, then back up to your eyes.

For a second, you thought he was gonna kiss you.

And for a second, you would’ve let him.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he just leaned back, eyes heavy-lidded, and exhaled slow, "Whenever your ready ma."

It hadn't been long before he noticed the change, it was subtle so subtle you barely noticed it but he sure did. How you didn't leave him on read for too long, how you picked up your phone on the second ring.

You were always smiling when his name popped up on your phone. He never saw it, no, but he knew, he could hear the smile in your voice whenever you tried you brush him off.

Spending time with him just became normal. You didn’t even think about it anymore. You just found yourself in his car more often than not, in his passenger seat with your feet kicked up on his dash, his playlist bleeding through the speakers while he drove.

He took you out, too—not just on regular “lemme take you to get food” type outings, but real dates. He wasn’t cheap with it, either. Nice spots. Nothing corny, nothing he knew you wouldn’t be into.

And God were you into it. He loved watching your face light up when he took you to different food spots, and planned different activities, it made waiting for you ever the sweeter.

You were definitely his.

Didn’t mean you were all soft about it, though. Not in public, at least.

When y’all were out around other people, you kept your cool. Like you weren’t fully, 100% down bad for this man.

But everybody knew.

Because the first time some random girl tried to get too close to him at a function, you shut that shit down with a single look.

The bitch had barely gotten two words out before you were stepping up, sliding your arm across his chest in a way that wasn’t too obvious but sent a very clear message.

“Oh, hey baby,” you hummed, nails dragging over the fabric of his hoodie. “You good?”

Bakugo had barely been paying attention to the girl in the first place, but the way you were on him now? Oh, he was eating that shit up.

His arm immediately dropped around your waist, fingers gripping your hip with zero hesitation. “Yeah, I’m straight.”

And just like that? She knew what it was.

You weren’t one to be dramatic. You weren’t insecure, either. But you also weren’t one to share.

Bakugo was yours. You had taken your time letting him have you, but now that he had you? Oh, best believe he wasn’t going anywhere.

And by the way he kept pulling you closer, smirking against your ear as he whispered, “Damn, you jealous, ma?” you knew he was feeling the same way.

The kitchen smelled good as hell. You had the stove going, the blonde had been bitchin' and whinin' about wanting a home-cooked meal even though you told him to ask his mama. But here you were, music played low from your speaker as you stood in a cropped tank and booty shorts while working over the stove.

“You just gon’ stare or you tryna help?” you teased, peeking over your shoulder.

His lips curled, sharp and smug. “I would help, but you look too good doin’ it.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t bother fighting the grin pulling at your lips.

Bakugo stretched, arms flexing as he walked toward you. "Change this, I'm a little tired of hearing rap."

His chuckle came quickly, "You? A little tired of listening to rap music?"

"I'm gonna pop you in your mouth."

You felt his lips graze the back of your neck as he squeezed your hip. "You know I'm joking ma."

You kissed your teeth before gesturing him toward your phone. You didn’t think twice about it. He picked up your phone, unlocked it, and you kept cooking. But after a moment, the music still wasn’t playing.

You turned your head, eyebrow raised. “Damn, why’s it so quiet? You—”

But he wasn't picking a song.

He was staring at your screen.

Your open messages.

Your unread DMs.

His jaw flexed, nostrils flaring.

“Yo.” His voice was tight. “Why the fuck you got all these dudes in your phone?”

Your brows furrowed, turning fully now. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He held up your phone like it was evidence, like the messages flashing across the screen were something brand new.

You scoffed. “Oh, so you go through my phone now?”

“I ain’t go through shit. This popped up right in my face. You got, what, five, six dudes all up in your messages? You entertaining that?”

Your jaw locked. “Why you pressed?”

“Why am I—?” Bakugo laughed—humourless, sharp. “Don’t play dumb. I ain’t been out here with no other bitches. I ain’t even looked at another girl since you let me get next to you. Meanwhile, you got a lineup waiting for you?”

“First of all, lower your damn voice,” you snapped, stepping closer, “and second? Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”

Katsuki clenched his jaw, his chest rising, his hands curling into fists. “I’m talkin’ to you, ma. To the girl I been all the way locked in with, thinkin’ she been on the same shit, but—”

“But what?” You glared up at him, heat crawling up your spine. “You the one trippin’ over some old-ass messages from before you were even in the picture. So tell me, Katsuki, what exactly do you think is happening here?”

His breathing was heavy. His fingers flexed, like he was fighting the urge to grab you. “I think you got me fucked up.”

That’s when you really got up in his face. “And you got me fucked up if you think you can tell me what to do with my phone like I don’t got my own mind.”

"Yeah, but if it were me? If I had some fucking hoes all up in my phone this would be a different story wouldn't it? If the roles were switched you would have already threatened to kill me and them other bithces so don't tell me I got you fucked up."

“You’re damn right it’d be a different story,” you hissed, chest nearly pressed to his now. “Because if I ever saw you entertainin’ bitches like that, I'd pop you in your big ass head."

“But you know what the difference is?” you went on, jaw tight, voice dropping low. “I didn’t answer them. Didn’t even open half those messages. ‘Cause I been here. With you. Cooking for your ungrateful ass, letting you run through my snacks, sleep in my bed--"

He stared at you, chest rising and falling, lips parted like he had something to say and didn’t know how to say it. And then he just—

Laughed.

Low and sharp, head tilting as he ran a hand down his face, then back over his hair like he was tryna shake something loose.

“You drive me fuckin’ crazy, you know that?”

You crossed your arms. “Good.”

“I’m serious.”

“I said good, Katsuki.”

He moved fast after that.

One second he was across the kitchen, and before you could even blink, he had you backed into the counter, his hands flat on either side of you, boxing you in before he kissed you. His hands were rough, sliding down to grip your thighs, hoisting you up on the counter like you weighed nothing.

Your back hit the cabinets with a thud as Bakugo pulled you to the edge of the counter, lips never leaving your neck. His hands gripped your thighs like he owned 'em—like he had a right to claim every part of you.

“Tell me to stop,” he muttered against your skin, voice low, almost breathless. “Say the word and I will.”

You grabbed a fistful of his hoodie and yanked. “Katsuki, if you stop right now, I will fight you.”

He grinned—crooked and cocky, like he’d just won. “That’s my girl.”

Then he was on you again. Lips hot and greedy, teeth grazing your jaw, tongue sliding against yours like he couldn’t get enough. His hands slid under your tank top, rough palms dragging up your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your tits like he was mapping you out with touch alone.

You moaned into his mouth, legs locking around his waist, pulling him closer.

He peeled off your tank and tossed it somewhere behind him, lips dropping to your chest like he’d been starved for the taste. His mouth wrapped around your nipple while his other hand teased the other one—squeezing, rolling, pinching just enough to make your breath catch.

“Fuck, Katsuki—” You arched into him, hand flying to the back of his head, your other gripping the counter like it could keep you grounded.

You squeeled as he bit onto your piercing, tugging at it slightly before his tongue flattened out against it.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he mumbled against your skin, “so soft, so warm. Got me trippin’ over you, baby.”

You continued to moan as he sucked on your nipples, his fingers pushing past the waist of your shorts before he was met with the slick heat of your folds.

He moaned out against you, your head tilted back slightly as his thumb worked against your clit "Fuck, been wanting to taste this pussy, you gonna let me eat ma?"

You tugged on his hair, moaning softly as he pinched your clit. You nodded eagerly, he chuckled against your neck as he peppered small kisses along your body.

He dropped to his knees, dragging your shorts down in one slow motion, eyes glued to your dripping cunt. “Fuck, baby…”

He hooked your leg over his shoulder and dove in, tongue dragging through your folds before flicking against your clit, slow and teasing.

“Mmm,” he groaned, sucking the bud into his mouth. “Could eat this pussy for days.”

You bit your lip, head falling back as his mouth worked you open—languid licks, rough tongue, fingers sliding into you one by one until your thighs started trembling. He was filthy with it, moaning into your pussy like he needed it to breathe.

“God, Katsuki—” your voice cracked, legs shaking, hand flying to the back of his head, grinding your hips against his face.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he growled between licks. “Ride my fuckin’ face.”

You did. Rode it shamelessly, until your orgasm tore through you like a wave, hips jerking, thighs clamping around his head as you gasped his name like a prayer.

Bakugo didn’t move until your whole body went slack. The blonde grinned as he came from between your thighs. You pulled him forward, lips meeting each other in haste. You moaned, tasting yourself on his tongue as it slid into your mouth.

After a while, you pushed against his chest, his brows furrowing in confusion as he watched you. You bit your lip softly as you dropped to your knees, his eyes darkened as he followed your form.

Fuck, you looked so pretty like this.

You yanked his sweats down, watching his cock spring free—thick, veiny, flushed pink at the tip, already leaking.

He groaned as you wrapped your hand around him, stroking slow while you pressed kisses along the underside, tongue teasing the tip. He hissed, hand flying to the back of your head.

“Fuck, ma…”

You swallowed him halfway, lips stretching around him, eyes locked on his the whole time. Then you pulled back—just to spit on it, mess it up even more, before taking him deep. Your throat tightened around him and his hips bucked forward on instinct.

“Shit—yo, slow down,” he panted, staring down at you like he didn’t know whether to stop you or let you ruin him. “You tryna make me nut already?”

You moaned around him, tongue dragging along the underside of his shaft as you bobbed your head faster. One hand on his thigh, the other gently massaging his balls, fuck -- you were too damn good at this.

“God damn, girl,” he groaned, voice hoarse. “Look at you. Slobbin’ all over this dick like it’s your fuckin’ job.”

Tears were pricking at the corners of your eyes, spit dripping down your chin, but you didn’t stop. You loved the way he lost composure—head tilted back, abs flexing, thighs twitching.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, grabbing your face, ignoring the whine that left your lips as he pulled you off him with a wet pop. “Get up. Bend over the fuckin’ counter.”

You moaned as your cheek hit the counter, your breath caught your throat as his fingers ran along the base of your spine, down to your ass, squeezing rough. “Leg up,” he ordered, smacking your thigh. “Get that shit up for me.”

You obeyed, hiking one leg up on the counter, spreading yourself wider for him.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he growled, lining himself up behind you. You moaned, wiggling your ass softly as you felt him tap your clit with his tip.

You cried out, fingers gripping the counter like your life depended on it as he sank into you, one brutal thrust.

He didn’t give you time to adjust—he couldn’t. He was too far gone. All that jealousy, all that possessiveness, all that hunger came out in his strokes.

Your moans come out in pants as he continues to drive into you, you live for the groans that were coming from above you as you continued to squeeze around him.

"Fuck, this pussy too good,” he groaned, slamming into you from behind, the slap of skin on skin echoing through the kitchen. “Squeezing me so. Fucking. Right.”

You moaned, back arching, your arm reaching behind you as you tried to push against his abs. The blonde let put a dark chuckle, your arm now bent behind you as he leaned over, and sliding up your stomach to squeeze your tit, mouth at your ear.

"Nah, don't run from this dick. Your gonna take every God damn inch of me because your fucking mine!"

You moaned again, eyes fluttering. “'M sorry Suki-- all yours. All yours!”

He pulled your head back, kissed you hard, then dropped his hand between your legs to rub your clit while he fucked you from behind.

Your body started shaking again, that orgasm creeping up fast. He felt it, too—how tight you got, how your moans changed pitch.

“Cum for me,” he growled. “Let that shit go. I wanna feel it.”

Yours eyes faded to the back of your head, your vision turning black as you gushed around him, your pussy clenching around him so tight it made him hiss and slam in even harder.

“Fuck, fuck—fuck,” he cursed, voice raw, as you continued to squirt around him. Your fluids running down your legs as he sent one more thrust, his hips stuttering as he finally came inside you, holding you still as he emptied himself, his fingers digging into your waist like he was scared you’d slip away.

Your head hit the counter softly, wincing slightly as he pulled out of you. You moaned softly as he kissed you up your spine.

"You done with your caveman shit?" He chuckled into your ear, lips still against your skin.

"Not at all ma."

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

[jirsungs]

first halloween... gone wrong? | dms drabble #4

word count: 1.6k words

pairing: drummer!jisung x girlfriend!reader

synopsis: halloween was never your favorite. you would choose christmas over it in a heartbeat, but with your dorky drummer boyfriend who absolutely loves it never leaving your side, you might just tolerate the spooky holiday. (set in the drum me, stupid universe but can be read as a standalone!)

warnings: a knife is mentioned, the dms!couple is flirty and GROSS, but most of this is just fluff.

a/n: HIIII 😭 jirsungs nation, rise! it's been 2 weeks since any story related post has been uploaded, and i just want to deeply apologize for not being here ): i missed writing and putting my delusions down in a google doc. but i hope you guys enjoy this short drum me stupid drabble and missed these cutie patooties as much as i did ☹️ as always, feedback is ALWAYS loved and appreciated! happy reading <3

You were never fond of Halloween. Sure, you loved being able to go all out in costumes and go to Halloween parties with your friends, but you knew immediately that once those plans were over, you were left in your own accompaniment once again.

Some people would be joyful with spending the rest of their nights after parties and such alone, but you? You were used to the party scene and loved it when it never ended. Lucky for you, your dorky boyfriend of a few months, Park Jisung, always kept the party going.

“Hey, have you guys seen Ji?” You asked Ningning and her boyfriend, Jeno, after finally spotting them dancing together on the dance floor. Your voice was louder than usual due to Michael Jackson's Thriller bumping from the party speakers.

“No, we thought he was with you." Ning looks over to Jeno. “I thought he came with you and the guys.”

You both wait for Jeno's reply, but he just shrugs. “He was supposed to, but he was the last one to get ready. If anyone knows where he is, that's Chenle.”

You click your tongue. “I figured. I'm going to keep looking for him. Thanks, guys!”

Ning’s shout of “Good luck!” was the last thing you heard before you committed to walking through the crowd of musty bodies. You were surprised at how many people went all out on their Halloween costumes this year. Your surprise wasn't a bad thing though; if anything, you loved it.

You almost second-guessed your choice of costume. With you and Ning being the only girls in the group, you felt that it was right if the both of you matched. The angel costumes were cute; you were wearing a black tight dress while she wore white, but taking a look at the decided costumes this year, you began to feel basic.

Once you're out of the crowd, you spot Haechan, Mark, and Yeonjun in the corner. You take notice of Yeonjun trying his best to impress some girl while the two boys next to him silently judge, taking occasional sips out of their red solo cups. 

Haechan, in his Pennywise makeup and attire, sees you walking towards them, tilting his head at your costume. “What are you supposed to be? A demonic angel?”

Mark snickers at his friend's comment, which you pout at. “No. I'm just an angel who happens to wear black. And says you, Pennywise, isn't your costume like... super basic?”

Haechan gasps, his hand on his chest for the dramatic effect. Mark rolls his eyes and answers your question instead.

“Every year, the Rockway guys do a group costume. This year, we somehow decided on iconic horror movie killers.” 

“Ahhh… So, that explains your Leatherface mask.”

With a nod of his head, Mark replies with a “Yup.”

You glance back at the party, and the sudden remembrance of why you came up to them in the first place hits you. “Oh! By the way, have you guys seen Jisung? I literally can't find him anywhere.”

Your body physically sulks at their answers, telling you they haven't seen him in a while. With your hope slowly decreasing and the urge to ditch the party increasing, you decide to call him one last time. If he doesn’t answer, you’ll cut the party short and head home, unfortunately finding the comfort of your bed more enjoyable than being here. You loved the company of your friends, but it bummed you out that you haven’t seen your boyfriend all night after him telling you that he’ll be here.

After bidding your goodbyes to the group and giving Jeno the responsibility to get Ning home safely, you make your way to your car. It's late October with the breeze finally coming through, resulting in you rubbing your arms in hopes for warmth. As you walk, your ears pick up on the sounds of your heels clicking against the sidewalk cement until they pick up another pair of footsteps near you. At first, you don’t sweat it, already aware of the scattered groups outside of the frat. 

But as you walk more down towards your car, the shuffling footsteps don’t leave you. Okay, you’ve had enough of this. Your slight irritation was slowly increasing due to this sudden interruption of your plans to waste the rest of your night away by changing out of this angel get-up and watching comfort films.

The only person you craved to see you in this costume was nowhere to be found, anyway. Finally turning around, you face the person but stay near your car for safety reasons.

“Who are you, and why do you keep following me?” You ask.

You didn’t mean to have your words come out sharply, but when you found out your culprit to be someone in a Ghostface costume, it only made you roll your eyes.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but if you’re just here to mess with me, is it okay if you can choose someone else? I really don’t have the energy for this.”

A beat passes and still no response from the person. It was almost as if their feet were stuck in the cement; you were starting to feel chills at the creepy mask staring back at you. But then, your brain starts to put the pieces together.

The replay of what Mark told you earlier back at the party plays in your head. “Every year, the Rockway guys do a group costume. This year, we somehow decided on iconic horror movie killers.” Would it be a coincidence that Jisung, who you haven’t seen all night, just happens to be right in front of you?

Your face softens at the thought of the mysterious Ghostface being your boyfriend. “Ji, baby, if that’s you, I’m going to smack you. Where have you been all night? I called you three times.” 

Still no answer, but now they were slowly walking towards you, revealing what they were holding behind them to be a knife. From where you’re standing, you couldn’t tell if it’s real or a fake replica, but that doesn’t stop your grip on the driver seat handle tightening, ready to pull on it and get the hell out of here. 

But you try one last time. “Okay, quit it. This isn't funny.”

By this point, the wondering thoughts of whether this was Jisung or not cloud your mind. You’re now close to each other, and the Ghostface still hasn’t said anything. 

You know what? Fuck it! You’re not dying today! 

You tug the car door open, ready to rush inside, but the masked John Doe shuts the door before you can. Their gloved hand doesn’t budge on the door, making their body lean against it and impossible for you to get inside.

The fact that they haven’t shoved the knife into your body by now has you suspicious and less frightened, but more agitated. Finally, they remove the mask from their face, revealing— 

“Hi, pretty angel.” 

Your stupid, cheekily smiling boyfriend. 

He has no time to lean in and give you an apologetic kiss on the lips before you smack him on the chest and punch his arm. “You motherfucker!”

“Ow! What the hell was that for?” 

Your eyes squint at him asking you that, resulting in another punch to his arm. “Don’t ‘what the hell was that for’ me! You scared the shit out of me!”

You’re about to smack his chest again, but Jisung’s reflex hits faster than yours. Not giving you another opportunity to hit him, he’s quick to take hold of both of your wrists, which you immediately try to get out of. You hate (love) how strong he’s been getting. With his constant drumming and going to the gym with the guys on the side, it became more and more difficult for you to get out of his grip. 

With your hands unable to move, he takes the chance and plants quick kisses all over your face. Your face flusters quickly with you trying to move away from his lips. He knows he got you when your tugging to get out of his hands stops and you start giggling.

“Ji, stop it!” Your giggles only increase when his kisses do, leading him to drop your hands and place his on your waist instead. 

“I missed you. I’m sorry I didn’t answer; I wanted to keep up the bit of scaring you.” He says after giving you a big cheek kiss and pulling you closer to his chest.

You can’t stop the giddy smile forming on your face. “It’s okay. Just never scare me like that again or I will—” you point your pointy finger on his chest, almost in warning, creating some space between you two, “cut your balls off.” 

But he pays no mind to your threat, smiling down at you like a loser in love. “Yes, ma’am. Never again.”

You encircle your arms around his waist, looking up at him doe-eyed. “Now, can we please go home and watch comfort movies?” 

“Can I first admire how fuckin’ gorgeous you look in this and then go home?”

Oh. You forgot you had this costume on.

Your cheeks heat up at his words. “Language, Park. You could’ve admired this all you wanted earlier if you didn’t leave me alone the whole night.”

He pouts, “Will I at least see this costume some other time, baby?”

"Hmm.” You pretend to think. “I guess, you just have to wait and see.”

“Why wait when I can see it on you tomorrow?” There's a glint in his eyes, and you know it can only mean trouble.

“Easy, drummer boy.”

Little did he know that his almost insulting prank on you sparked an idea in your head. But it’s best to save that for next year, right? 

You guess, with Park Jisung by your side, you wouldn’t mind waiting another year to see what other Halloween pranks he has in store for you.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Captain's Orders 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, controlling behaviour, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The Captain takes it upon himself to change your life.

Characters: Steve Rogers

Note: Ugh, here we go.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Steve, Captain, First Avenger, whatever you should call him, follows you down the stairs. You're overly aware of his presence. You're confused by it.

You got in one argument on the internet and now he's here? What the heck is wasting his time online for? Doesn't he have a life? He did tell you to get one after all.

"I got it," he dips around you as you get to the bottom. He pulls back the fire door and you eye him warily as you step through. Once more, he's on your heels. He gets the front door too.

You cross your arms as you come out into the sunlight. He shades his eyes with his hands and sighs, "nice day, isn't it?"

You roll your tongue around before you answer, "yep."

"I saw a shop around here--"

"It's expensive," you say.

"I said I'd treat you--"

"Why?" You turn on him and stop in the middle of the sidewalk. You cringe and seal your lips. You steady yourself. "Sorry, I'm not trying to be rude. I got your message loud and clear. You didn't need to come and make sure. Is that why you came?"

"I will explain. Smoothies first." He insists.

You huff, "I know who you are but this is still kinda scary. How did you even find me?"

"You know who I am," he shrugs. Your chest swims with nerves. You nod and turn down the pavement.

"What'd you eat today? You should try some Vitamin C in the smoothie. Get a protein booster." He offers.

You're slightly irked by his advice, mostly the assumptions behind it. You wet your lips and bite back on your retort. You are not a combative person. You never have been. He was right on that front. You settle for a lot of nonsense.

You notice the stray glances in your direction. Not yours, his. People stare at him like fawns, wide-eyed and frozen in place.

"So, what did you have for breakfast?"

"Steve-- Captain-- What would you prefer?"

"We'll get to that too," he says smugly. His answer unsettles you further. He's so certain and you are entirely lost. Not to mention, embarrassed.

"It doesn't really matter what I ate," you say.

He points you ahead of him, down the walkway to the shop door. He once more opens it and sees you through. You enter and look around. The amount of booty-lifting leggings and bulging biceps has you shrinking down.

You stare up at the menu and try to piece together how to order. You get a base and a boost and then there's all these bobas and vitamins? This is too complicated.

"You have any recommendations?" You ask. Maybe that will appease him.

"Sure, I'll get you my usual. You wanna find a table?"

"Can do," you mumble and walk away.

You sit in the corner and cradle your chin in your hand. You tap your lip and blow a soft raspberry. There's a woman staring at you from her group of friends. Her assumptions would be kinder than Steve's. He's here to lecture you in person, not take you on a date.

He sits across from you and sets down a cup filled to the brim with sickly green. You shouldn't complain. You're not exactly eating gourmet. You thank him and reach for it. He stretches his hand over the top.

"You shouldn't put your elbows on the table. It's rude." He reproaches.

Your frown then sit up, dragging your arm off the table. You can't make yourself apologise. He so easily picks out your every flaw.

"You gonna try it?" He watches you.

You hesitate but bring the straw to your mouth. You sip and your cheeks pinch. It's bitter yet tangy. How?

"Mm, good," you lie."

"You get used to it," he says.

"Can I please know why I came home to you in my apartment?"

He grins and looks down. He pokes his tongue into his cheek.

"You don't get out much," he lifts his eyes.

"Yeah, you were right about that," you squirm and put the cup down. You clasp your hands in your lap.

"How old are you?"

You chew your cheek before you answer, "twenty-three."

"Mhmm, and you don't have any schooling? Not formal?" He wonders.

You put your eyes down, "no. Can't afford it."

"Huh, from what I gather, lots of students work their way through these days."

Your heart sinks.

"Couldn't get accepted either," you mumble. "That's my own doing. So no need to say it out loud."

Your shoulders slump and your eyes glaze. This is humiliating. It's like having lunch with your mom. Not that she ever did much better. Still, she picks you apart like a chicken leg.

"You should sit up. Bad posture won't feel good as you get closer to thirty," he girds.

You suck in a deep breath and sit straight. You scowl at him, "I got your point, alright? I already feel terrible. Is that what you want to hear?"

"No," he tilts his head. "I want you to try. I want you to do better."

"What does it matter to you? You don't know me."

"It matters to me because I can make you better," he says. "You said you don't get opportunities. That everyone else has everything handed to them, so my hand is open. I'm giving you what you're looking for."

"Huh?" You shake your head gently and furrow your brow.

"No rent, no work, none of that."

You blink and cross your arms. What is he talking about?

"Here's the deal. You get a free ride and all you have to do is follow my rules. I promise you, everything will be better. No manager, no loud sister, no bills."

You narrow your eyes, "and what do I have to do?"

"I said as much, live by my rules."

"Oh," you purse your lips.

You have this rotting feeling in your gut. He's not saying something. There's no reason for him to do this. Over one little spat on a forum.

"Is this how you save people, Cap?"

"I prefer Captain," he spreads his shoulders wide.

"Right. Captain. What if I can't live by your rules? You think I'm lazy--"

"Unmotivated. Complacent. Apathetic. Not lazy," he corrects you.

"Sure, but why... me?"

His eyes twinkle thoughtfully. They are very blue. You were so focused on yourself, you didn't notice... him. He's forged like a statue. His eyes are bright, his features made even more handsome by his beard and his grown out hair. And you are in your work uniform. A mess.

"Chance, I guess." He shrugs. "I mean, think about it, what else do you got going for you?"

You stare at the table then turn your sights through the window. You issue a soft sigh. You put your elbow on the table and he tisks. You quickly pull it back and wiggle your foot anxiously.

He's not wrong. You have absolutely nothing. You don't see yourself getting too much further than minimum wage and a shit apartment. You are being handed this, are you going to turn away what you always envied? An easy out.

"What does it... mean? What happens if I agree? What are the rules?" Your questions bubble out.

He combs his thick fingers through his hair, "the rules you'll learn. First, you're coming back to New York, so I can supervise you. Then, we start. You get into a regimen; exercise, clean eating, routine."

You flutter your lashes. This is absurd. You scoff.

"You're joking. You're mocking me. You're--" you cover your face, "I get it now. I almost fell for it."

"No," he reaches across and pulls your hands down. You flinch at the warmth of his touch, the roughness of his skin. "I'm not. Look."

He retracts his hold on you and you fold your hands over your chest. He reaches into his jacket pocket and slides out two cards. He lays down the thick paper.

"I have two return tickets. For me and you. Tomorrow at noon."

"Tomorrow-- huh?" Your eyes round.

"I'm serious. You better get serious too. You'll be twenty-four soon. Then twenty-five. It's not too far before thirty comes knocking," he taps the tickets.

You're not like him. You're not going to stay young. You're not amped up on super goo. You're only human.

"Or you can do what you always do. Nothing, then blame everyone else."

It's like a slap in the face. Shame and anger. Hurt. Doubt. He's right, it's time to grow up. This isn't an opportunity you get very often. In fact, you don't think many others have been given the same chance. For once, you won the lottery.

"I'll try it." You say.

"No try. You commit," he retorts.

"Alright, I'll... do it."

"You'll do it, Captain," he corrects you.

Your insides wriggle at that. You ignore it.

"I'll do it, Captain."

⭐

Static scratches in your ears and skull as you enter the apartment. Alone. Stunned. As if a mine exploded in your face. In a way, it sort of did. Your online griping finally caught up to you. That and your real-life failure.

Shea is in the living room. She gets up on her knees and smirks at you. "Aw, where is he?"

"Who?" You blink, not processing her question.

"Captain America, duh," she scoffs. "Come on, you really sent him away?"

"He's... busy." You go to your bedroom door and the couch lurches with her weight.

"Hey, you can't just not tell me why he showed up. You didn't say anything about knowing Steve fucking Rogers."

"I didn't?" You open your door and she follows you into your room. You face her and block her from going further. "Shea, please, I need to be alone."

"Why? You're always alone. It's why I'm so surprised you have hunky blond heroes showing up for you. Taking you out for a smoothie," she taunts.

She was listening. He was right to go somewhere else.

"It wasn't... like that. Look. I'm..." you back away and sit on the foot of your bed. You're dizzy. You really said yes. You're entirely sure to what. He kept it all a bit too vague. "I'm moving out."

"What? Why? But--"

"Yeah, er, yeah," you stutter as you build a lie in your mind, "he was here about a job. Long shot. I forgot I even applied."

"Wait? You're going to work with the Avengers? Doing what?"

You look at her, "paperwork."

"Paperwork?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Wait. How am I supposed to find a new roommate? When are you leaving?"

You rub your cheeks and stretch them as you drag your fingers down, "tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?!" She shrieks.

"Yeah, it's... they move fast."

"All the way to New York?" She blusters.

"Please, Shea, I need time to think."

"Yeah, me too!"

"I'll figure out rent for you. I don't know," you hold your head in your hands.

"Well, you don't seem very excited," she snorts.

"Shea!" You sit up with a snarl. "Stop. Alright! I need you to get out so I can pack."

"Don't yell at me--"

"I'm not..." you lower your voice, "yelling. I'm... trying to figure this out so please. Later."

She rolls her eyes and stomps out. "Donna!" She hollers and you get up to close the door behind her.

You stomp back to your bed and take out your phone. You almost can't remember work or all the BS there. You swipe through the search results and tap on the first that isn't sponsored: National Museum, Virtual Exhibit. You're brought to a page with a familiar face. Steve, with no beard and shorter, lighter hair. The infamous war hero.

You flip through, reading about his history, chewing your thumb. You stop at the part about the serum; 'This enhancement gifted Rogers with superstrength, heightened sight and hearing, improved resilience, and quick healing, among other capabilities.'

You rock nervously. That's a bit intimidating. You're not that stupid. You know he's a strong guy, almost invincible by the news stories, but you just never paid that much attention. Never thought of it. He protects people, right? But what damage could he do if he wanted to hurt someone?

Your phone vibrates. You flinch at the sight of his name. He made you take his number before you left the shop.

'I'll pick you up at 10. Wiil need to check-in for flight early.'

You send back a thumbs up. He's quick to reply.

'Is that a yes?'

You huff.

'Yes, Captain', you key in.

[mrsarnold]

kk angst where reader keeps getting told kk is cheating on her by a bunch of people and she starts to believe it and she confronts kk about it and kk is obviously denying it and they somehow make up and it ends in fluff or smut or both idk

that my heart stops beating when your leaving . ۫ ꣑ৎ .

syn : in the req

pair : kk arnold x fem!reader

warn : mentions of cheating, fluff to smut, one ususage of Y/n

note : yea

All you could hear were murmurs in your ears as you woke up and notifications coming from your phone. The only voices you could recognize were your roommates, Gabby and Maggie. You slowly woke up, feeling groggy as your roommates jumped at your sudden awakening.

“Finally,” Gabby said, exasperation clear in her voice. “We’ve been trying to wake you up for like, forever.”

Maggie, perched on the edge of your bed with a worried expression, gave you a small frown. “You need to check your phone. It’s… about KK.”

The mention of her name made your heart skip a beat. Still groggy, you sat up and reached for your phone, which wouldn’t stop buzzing with notifications. The screen lit up with an overwhelming amount of missed calls, texts, and Instagram DMs.

“What the hell is going on?” you mumbled, unlocking it. Gabby and Maggie exchanged an uneasy glance as you scrolled through your notifications.

Your stomach sank as you opened your texts and saw messages from friends asking if you were okay or saying they were sorry. Confused, you tapped on a link one of them had sent. It took you to a trending post on Twitter, a grainy photo of KK sitting way too close to another girl at what looked like a party. The caption read, “KK Arnold out here cheating on her girl? Guess being loyal’s not her thing.”

“What… what is this?” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly.

Gabby reached out to touch your arm gently. “We don’t think it’s true. It could be photoshopped or taken out of context.”

“But everyone’s talking about it,” Maggie added reluctantly, showing you her own feed filled with people speculating and commenting on the photo.

Your throat tightened, your thoughts spiraling as you stared at the picture. KK hadn’t mentioned going to a party last night—or being with anyone, for that matter. The doubt and hurt clawed at your chest, but deep down, a small voice reminded you that this wasn’t like her.

“I need to talk to her,” you muttered, standing up.

Gabby frowned. “You sure you want to call her right now? Maybe wait until you’re calmer?”

You shook your head, already dialing her number. The phone rang once, twice, and then she picked up.

“Hey, mama",KK’s familiar voice greeted you, though it sounded groggy—like she’d just woken up, too. “What’s up? You okay?”

Your grip tightened on the phone. “KK, what the hell is going on? There’s a picture of you all over the internet with some girl, and everyone’s saying you cheated on me.”

There was a pause on her end, and for a split second, your chest constricted with fear. Then KK’s voice came through, steady but firm.

“Wait, what? What picture? I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I swear I didn’t cheat on you. Where are you seeing this?”

You hesitated, the emotion in her voice throwing you off. “It’s all over Twitter. It looks like you’re at a party, sitting really close to some girl.”

KK sighed heavily. “That’s probably from last week at Tre’s party. I was talking to this girl about basketball—she wanted tips for her little sister. I swear, mama, that’s all it was. I didn’t even think twice about it.”

Your heart ached, torn between believing her and the doubts planted by the rumors. “KK, this is everywhere. People are saying things about you, about us…”

“Ma, look at me.” Her voice softened, and you could hear the desperation in her tone. “Well, I mean, if I were there, I’d tell you to look at me. But you know me. I wouldn’t do that to you—ever. You’re my everything.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you sat back on the bed, your voice shaking. “I want to believe you, but this is so overwhelming.”

“I get it,” KK said, her voice steady but full of emotion. “It’s crazy and unfair, but I’ll come over right now. We’ll talk, okay? I’ll explain everything, face-to-face. Just… please don’t believe this crap. I love you, Y/N. Only you.”

You took a shaky breath, nodding even though she couldn’t see you. “Okay. Come over.”

“Come over in ten,” KK said before hanging up.

Gabby and Maggie watched you silently as you set the phone down, tears slipping down your cheeks. Maggie handed you a tissue, offering a small smile. “She sounded sincere.”

“She did,” you murmured, clutching the tissue tightly. Deep down, you wanted to believe her, to trust her. You just hoped that when she got here, she’d make it all make sense.

And that your heart could handle it.

"mm- mhmmph", You moaned out as KK's tongue continued it's assault on your clit. You didn't understand how you got here. One minute y'all were apologizing to eachother then it turned into toecurling, mouth drowling sex.

"you taste so good baby", She said humming against your cunt making vibrations float through your body.

Childish Gambino softly played in the background, aligning with your moans. KK added 2 fingers to give you more pleasure making you buck your hips up. When she felt your hips buck up she lifted her free hand up to hold your hips down making you whine.

"mm KK i'm s'close", You practically whined out trying you get your hips out of her grasp. She giggled against your cunt when you tried to wiggle out of her grasp.

"Mhm cum f'me baby", she slurred out, pussy drunked out of her mind. Those words alone made you moan out before cumming on your fingers and face. KK removed herself from you after you rode out your high and got up, grabbing a towel.

she started to clean you up before putting the towel to the side.

"you accept my apology now?"

[drawing-write]

SVSSS Fanfic idea

I came up with idea like, two years ago inside of a friend’s Discord DMs, so- All of the following is literally just me quoting younger me:

———

I HaVE THIS IDEA FOR A CRACK- TREATED-SERIOUSLY, SORTA ANGSTY MISUNDERSTANDING-FILLED FIC

So, imagine this, right?

OG!Shen Qingqiu finds a baby, the baby is Shen Yuan who reincarnated with the system. OG!SQ is straight up like,

"wtf, who left a baby here"

And there's a little note that says, “This child's name is Shen Yuan, please care for him." and Shen Qingqiu is a bit confused about them sharing last names, but waves it off as a coincidence. Though the baby looks a little bit like him, he's never had a child before. He takes the baby down to the brothel to give to the prostitutes there because he's sure that they'd treat the baby better than him.

But once he gets there and tries to hand the baby off after saying the baby's name, the girl's misunderstand that the baby is biologically OG!SQ's child and ask OG!SQ why he would want to abandon the child. He says the child has already been abandoned and he can't care for them because he wouldn't do good raising the baby.

The girls think the woman who birthed the child abandoned both OG!SQ and SY, so the girls feel sympathetic, but still persaude OG!SQ to keep SY. He can't refuse under their insistence and ends up letting the girls feed SY before going back up to his peak.

SQQ keeps trying to awkwardly raise the baby SY without letting his fellow Peak Lords or Disciples know.

Through a series of events, Shang Qinghua finds out and happily volunteers to be the uncle after a short freak out and being death threatened by SQQ.

So SQH, is kinda like, “oh shit. SQQ adopted a child. What's gonna happen to the plot??” and the system is like,

'no clue lol' causing SQH to overthink more.

SQH is gonna be the only one in the story who knows completly that SY is an adopted child of SQQ because he's 100% sure of his character's personalities and knows that SQQ wouldn't be going around bedding people- So that child definitely isn't biologically his.

Everyone else though is gonna misunderstand SY's origins in angsty ways.

Like YGY, QQQ and MQF are all convinced SQQ was harassed and forced to have the child. LQG is convinced that SQQ had an epic love story and fell for a woman that stabbed him in the back and abandoned him with their child. Ect.

It's all mainly SQQ's fault for saying things and not elaborating, causing everyone to jump to conclusions-

(Check the reblogs for part 2. Aka, my old writing on a scene in this hypothetical fanfic.)

[kabr0ztrousers]

Let me start off by saying that everything I've read from you so far has been amazing! Ok so I used to be terrified of clowns but now I adore them. Fem reader who is scared of clowns and super timid gets dragged to a fair by a friend. One of the clowns notices and tries to cheer her up maybe tripping over himself and just being goofy. He takes her to a tent and fucks her with his other clown friends showing her there's no reasons to fear clowns. Super fluffy please!

Kabr0z Writes Episode 37: Coulrophilia

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: Clowns; intox; group sex; enthusiastic consent;

A/N: Clowns aren't a thing I naturally find sexy, so we'll see how this one goes. Thanks for the request either way!

There's 4 or 5 stories to get through before the ask box empties out, so please if you have a request or an idea, send an ask or a DM and it'll get added to the pile!

######################################

If there's one thing that's always made your skin crawl, it's clowns. Not that there weren't things that didn't scare you otherwise, you've never quite had a head for heights and spiders can just generally do one, but clowns always made you uneasy. That said, here you were at the circus. Primary habitat of your natural enemy. Your friends had convinced you to tag along, placating you that it'd be fun and you wouldn't even see a clown unless you went into the big top.

They lied, of course. The place was crawling with clowns, seemingly everywhere you looked there were at least two or three. That along with your friends having disappeared almost as soon as you passed the ticket booth, you weren't having the best of times.

Something honked behind you. You tried to ignore it, but it honked again. One of those pale-faced freaks trying to get your attention. You turned to tell them to kindly sod off or point you to the exit.

The clown wasn't there, then another honk came from behind you. You turned again, still no clown. Another honk-honk. You quarter-turned, then shot back in time to see a young man with a greasepaint grin pratfall on front of you. You stifled a chuckle as the man feigned trying to get up a couple of times, each time comically failing in more audacious ways until with an impressive backflip, he landed on his feet, swaying dramatically.

"Well hel-lo there ma'am" His over-pronounced southern drawl was a bit much, but fit the vibe "Are ya havin' a good time?"

You smiled at him, "I'm not much for circuses, and I've lost my friends"

The clown mock-cried when you told him your predicament, pulling hanky after hanky out of his sleeves and dabbing at his eyes "Well, can't have that, can we? Would a balloon pal make it better?" Before you could respond he was already halfway through making a poodle from a long balloon, what could you do but accept it?

"What ya' gonna name him?"

"Squeak!" The name popped into your head. You noticed you're smiling now, the clown noticed it too

"That's a good name" he gave an exaggerated nod "Tell you what, I'll put out some feelers to find your pals, 'til then, would ya like to meet mine?"

You smiled and nodded. The clown produced a hobby horse from the baggy silks of his outfit and 'mounted' it "Well, just follow me, the Clown Ranger!" He galloped off, but not so fast you couldn't stay on his tails as he guided you through the throngs of people, pausing every so often to pull an attendant's ear or dazzle someone with a quick card trick.

Deeper and deeper into the circus you went, the music of the calliope organ getting louder as you drew towards the tents in the middle. The clown lifted a tent flap and motioned inside"After you, Mon Ami"

You stepped in, and blanched. If you thought outside was bad, this was clown central. Literally. A man on stilts was holding a clipboard, calling out commands to the garishly painted mob below, who was needed where, what tent needed a moment to set something up, whose act had gone awry and clowns had to pick up the slack. Your clown cowboy was behind you, fastening the flap back up and motioned to the stilted one.

The chief clown bent down to listen, perfectly balanced even though the stilts were as long as you were tall. He was dressed in black and white with a perfectly even white face besides a pair of exaggerated red lips and gleaming red nose. The lead clown nodded and leant down to you, he spoke with a faint French accent "So, you have lost your fellows, yes? Please tell me what they look like, we will let them know where you are"

You gave a description to the clown, who reared up and called it to the arrayed fools, buffoons and jesters before coming back to you "You are welcome to wait in here, Ranger Rick will keep you company. Enjoy!"

Your newfound clown friend took your hand and swept you to a quiet part of the tent "This is the green room," the accent was gone now, "a bit quieter for you. Wanna see some magic?"

You nodded and the clown grabbed a deck of cards, dazzling you with his sleight of hand, occasionally seeming to screw up a trick to make you laugh before pulling your card or a coin from somewhere seemingly impossible

A couple more clowns stepped into the room and joined in the fun, before long you were in tears of laughter as they riffed off one another.

The night dragged on, and your friends weren't found, the clowns reckoned they'd probably left the circus already. You couldn't help but feel bummed out at that, seeing as they dragged you there to begin with. It was only you, your cowboy and two others in the room, the cacophony from outside dying down.

You and the clowns were sat on some benches, passing around a hip flask, enjoying your own private after-party. The men in front of you were still cracking jokes, though the more they drank the bawdier they got. After recovering from a particularly vile gag about a priest, a nun, and a donkey, you felt butterflies in your stomach. Whatever was in the flask was strong. You'd always had a weakness for a man who could make you laugh, and you were always a bit too easy when you'd had a few drinks.

You budged up to the Clown Ranger, putting your arm behind him and giving an experimental pat on his ass. It was a lot firmer than those oversized trousers gave him credit for. You saw him blush a little despite his makeup as he looked bashfully away from you.

The other clowns noticed "Oi, oi! The cowboy's pulled!" The one on your left called out, thumbs in his suspenders, bowler hat perched on his head. The other just gave a deep belly laugh "He gets all the ladies, never any for us Bozos!"

You cocked an eyebrow at the one in the hat, then the other "You know, I've never had a four-way before..." You spoke as sweetly as you could, the liquor wasn't making it easy to mask your desire for the men around you.

The clowns looked at one another, speechless for the first time in the night. You blushed hard and hunched your shoulders, certain you'd killed the mood. You stood up to leave before you made a bigger fool of yourself.

You stopped when you saw the looks in their eyes. They were all trying to figure out if you were serious, or if you were just joking. You paused to make sure, and certain enough you could feel the desire in the looks they gave you.

Sod it.

You kissed the cowboy. Dragging him to his feet by his comedic lapels. He kissed back, one hand on your back, unfastening your bra through your shirt, the other gripping your ass.

The other two were standing too now, stroking your body as they gently undressed you. Button by button they unfastened your blouse, letting it fall to the sawdust floor before sliding off your bra, leaving you topless as you enjoyed the attention of the three men worshipping your body. You unbuttoned the cowboy's waistband and his pants fell, revealing white boxers patterned with love hearts, which you opened to pull out his cock. It was already rock hard in your hand, thick and uncircumcised. You started with the balls, licking and sucking them before licking all the way to the tip of his cock, savoring the scent of it as you went. The other two followed suit and exposed themselves to you. A cock in each hand and one in your mouth, you sucked and jerked them. All three men were panting over you as you went, feeling your wetness dripping from you and soaking into your underwear. You're glad you wore a skirt, your jeans would be ruined by now.

You pulled off your soaked panties and stood back up, still facing your cowboy as you pushed him back down onto the bench behind him before mounting him. His cock was throbbing against you as you rubbed it against your clit, coating it with your wetness before lining it up and sitting down on it.

He whimpered as it went in, the look of bliss on his face clashing with the painted rictus grin. The one in the hat held his cock beside you. You turned your head to suck it as you rode your cowboy, presenting your asshole to the final clown behind you.

You're not sure where he got a bottle of lube from, but you're glad he had it. The clown in your rear was the biggest of the three, gently pushing it in, stretching you out as you felt the two cocks frotting against one another inside you.

Hands were on every inch of you, your tits, your waist, the sides of your head, your own were busy on your clit and teasing the balls of the one in your mouth.

Your orgasm came easily, quickly followed by another and another, groans muffled by the cock you were sucking on as you buried the cock below you in your pussy. The cowboy must've felt it, you could feel him start to pulse and paint your cunt with his cum. You took the cock out of your mouth to pull his head to yours and kiss him as he dumped his load, pushing your tongue into his mouth. Next was the one in your ass, pushing himself deep into you before releasing into your guts, gripping your tits and squeezing as the last few humps exhausted him.

Finally the one in the hat brought himself off over your face. You opened your mouth to catch as much as you could, but you couldn't help loving the feeling of his cum spattering across your face in hot ropes.

You stayed for a moment, panting and sweating. Feeling the men going soft in you as their juices gently leaked out of you.

Then the one in the hat gave you a handkerchief. Then another. Then another.

"Sorry, they're all tied together"

##############################

Pleasant clown gangbang. More plot that I expected, less than I could've done.

Once again, if you have a request, an idea, a fetish, whatever, drop an ask. As long as it's within the very minimal boundaries in my pinned, it'll probably get written, completely free of charge! It's literally a free commission!

One last note: I did a surprising amount of research on clown makeup for this, it's a fascinating world as it turns out, but cut most of it to avoid writing a treatise on clowning. Ah, well, maybe one day