#i hope they get it by the time I graduate

[in-my-feels-probably]

Older Art spoiling his 20 something yo girlfriend that goes to Stanford. She looks up to him and listens to him and does whatever he says and basically lives for his praise.

I Feel So High School (Every Time I Look At You)

Request: Older Art spoiling his 20 something yo girlfriend that goes to Stanford. She looks up to him and listens to him and does whatever he says and basically lives for his praise.

and: art being 10ish years older than reader? that’s all i got. go crazy

Hi! Challengers has been on my mind literally since the day it came out, and I think I've read every single fic on here about it, so I figured I’d give it a shot writing one myself. First of all, I combined your requests, hope that’s ok. Second, this is my first time writing for Art, so please bear with me while I try and get the hang of writing his character. I haven’t written a fic in weeks, so my skills are definitely a little rusty. Please be kind! Anyways, I hope you like this. Let me know what you think, and thank you for the request :)

(Warnings: none? idk, maybe very vague mentions of sex, art is divorced, swearing, i guess the age gap taboo. let me know if i missed anything)

—

You should have known trying to explain your situation with Art to someone else would’ve been difficult, but finally telling your roommate everything was just as humiliating as you thought it would be. She always had a knack for nosing her way into your business, and not even you were immune to her federal level detective skills when it came to getting information out of someone. 

“And I’m seeing him today,” you finished your rant as you sucked in a breath, wincing as you waited for the bomb to drop.

But it didn’t. Your roommate just grinned, standing up and walking over to your closet. You watched with a confused look on your face until she turned to you, already elbow deep in your clothes.

“So…you have a sugar daddy?” your roommate asked, trying to stifle a laugh as she rifled through your closet to help you find an outfit. “No judgment, I’m honestly jealous.”

You picked a pillow up off your bed, launching it at her when she smirked as you flushed. “I don’t have a sugar daddy! I have a…well—ok, I don’t know what we are. But he’s not my sugar daddy.”

“No, he’s just an ex pro tennis player with a famous ex wife who was also a pro tennis player that he had a perfect little girl with, complete with a house in the Hamptons. Now, he’s…what, exactly? A coach? A commentator? Part of Stanford’s glorified alumni? No, I’ve got it! I know what he is — hot. In a beekeeping age, recently divorced, kind of way.”

You rolled your eyes, standing up to help her look through your closet. “He’s only in his thirties. You’re making him sound archaic and washed up.”

“Look at you, gushing over him,” she grinned as she finally landed on something for you to wear, quickly handing it to you. “At least he has good taste. You’re hot, too.”

Your roommate turned around while you quickly changed, sitting down at the foot of your bed. She talked over her shoulder as you got dressed, her voice full of curiosity.

“So, how did this all happen anyway?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “Remember alumni week with all the guest lectures and presentations a few months ago?”

“You met Art Donaldson during alumni week? What the fuck! Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have skipped all my classes that week if I thought I was gonna pick up a trophy husband instead of being forced to sit through a mind-numbingly boring presentation from some guy who used to go here that I’ve never heard of.”

“Sucks to suck, babe,” you grinned, finished getting dressed. “I’m good, you can turn around now.”

She quickly turned around, patting the spot on the bed next to her.

“How did this even happen? I’ve never seen you step foot on a tennis court in your life, and I know they wouldn’t have asked him to speak in a graduate lecture.”

You sat down next to her, nodding. “He did a seminar down at the courts for the kinesiology majors or something like that. They were learning about sports related injuries and how to treat them. He told them about how he hurt his shoulder a few years ago during a match, and he talked about all the physical therapy he had to do.”

“You’re telling me you sat through a kinesiology lecture? On a tennis court? When you don’t even study kinesiology?”

“Absolutely not,” you laughed, leaning back against the headboard. “He told me about it that first week while he was here.”

Your roommate giggled, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. “Oh my god! Okay, okay. Spill. Now. I want to know everything.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, but started ranting again anyway. 

—

In truth, you didn’t really know what your relationship with Art was. You’d met when returning alumni who’d gone on to excel in their fields came to campus for guest lectures and demonstrations.

In a total mortifying cliche, you ran into Art in a hallway while you were rushing to a lecture that had already started ten minutes earlier. You would have been on time, but your roommate accidentally locked herself out of your dorm, and the RA wasn’t answering their phone. She had an exam she needed to get to, which—in her own words—“trumps your boring book lecture.” You had no choice but to turn around and save her, making the trek back across campus to let her in. That’s how you ended up running face first into Art, your bag and all your things scattering across the floor. By some miracle, at least the halls were empty.

You quickly kneeled, scrambling to pick up all your things. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going. I’m late for class.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, kneeling to help you.

It was then when you looked up, and you felt your heart jump into your throat. Art Donaldson—famous alumni and world renowned tennis player—was crouched right in front of you, handing you half empty tubes of chapstick, a pair of headphones, and a stray pack of gum. Oh god, you thought to yourself. Why me? Why today? You quickly cleared your throat, standing up.

“God, sorry. Thanks…Mr. Donaldson.”

You cringed as you said it, the title of Mr. feeling off as it rolled off your tongue.

“Mr. Donaldson?” he raised a brow, shaking his head. “No, just call me Art. Uh, you know who I am? Am I actually still recognizable here? I figured no one off of the courts would have any idea who I was.”

You glanced down at his shirt, pointing. “You’re wearing a name tag.”

Art paled, raising a hand to awkwardly scratch at the back of his neck. Good one, he thought to himself. Very humble. He cringed to himself as his cheeks flushed, a small smile on his face.

“Right. I knew that.”

You smiled, pulling your bag back over your shoulder as you let out a little chuckle. “I know who you are. Stanford never lets us forget about their prized students.”

“Ah,” he nodded, grinning. “In my day, it was Reese Witherspoon and Jennifer Connelly. Although, Reese dropped out halfway through her degree, so they don’t talk about her much—”

“And Jennifer left Yale to come study here,” you finished. “That’s one they do still brag about.”

Art smiled, leaning back against the wall as he looked at you. You suddenly became very aware of your situation, tearing your eyes away from him to look down the hall where your class was. Art’s eyes followed, and he straightened up, clearing his throat.

“Am I keeping you?”

“No!” you said all too quickly, biting your tongue for a second before you forced yourself to calm down and continue. “Uh, my class already started. It’s not really important, he doesn’t count attendance anyway. And, to be honest, he’s pretty dull. He managed to make Jane Austen boring.”

“Not Bazin’s class, is it?” Art asked, making you raise a brow.

“Yeah, it is. How’d you know that?”

Art smiled, letting out a little laugh. “That’s why I came this way, I wanted to see if Professor Bazin still taught English here. He was a dinosaur even when I graduated. I’m surprised they still let him teach.”

“If they actually read the end of term course evaluations they make us fill out, they wouldn’t,” you mused, making Art grin wider.

“I guess I should let you go then,” Art shrugged, glancing down the hall. “Wouldn’t want you to miss out on something you could use in your scathing evaluation.”

You glanced back down the hallway at your classroom, but you couldn’t get your feet to move. You weren’t sure why, but you didn’t want to go just yet. 

All you did at Stanford was go to and from class and stay on top of your studies. It was monotonous and boring, and you were always up to your neck in papers and projects. Other than your roommate, you hardly had any people left you talked to or hung out with. They all graduated with their undergrad degrees, and you moved on to your graduate studies. Your education was important to you, but it got lonely. You almost never took risks anymore. But as you glanced back at him, that’s what you did.

You took the risk.

“Or…you could save me from my misery?” you stuttered out, an awkward smile on your face.

Art looked at you with an amused expression, tilting his head as he waited for you to continue. You swallowed, fiddling with the strap of your bag.

“My classes are almost all entirely in this building. I’m sure you’re sick of talking about tennis, but between here and my dorm, I don’t think I see enough sunlight in a day to keep me going. Maybe you could walk with me somewhere that actually sees the sun? Doesn’t have to be the courts or anything, although I can say with full confidence that I’ve never actually seen that part of campus and I’m in my graduate studies. Uh, maybe you’ve got somewhere in mind? Or you could let me buy you a cup of shitty cafeteria coffee? I promise I’ll refrain from asking you about your career. But, as I’m sure you can tell just by looking at me, I don’t really know enough about tennis to ask anyway.”

As you rambled on, horrified by your own rambling but determined to put yourself out there, Art smiled. 

He’d met a lot of girls over the years. Some girls who had a genuine interest in him but didn’t last, and some who saw his fame and fortune as a one way ticket to an easy life. 

None of them mattered. 

He had married Tashi, head over heels from the first moment he saw her. He had a kid with her, a career with her, a seemingly picture perfect life with her. It didn’t even occur to him to look at other girls until his marriage started to strain under the weight of his career, and he’d almost forgotten what it was like to look at a girl for the first time and feel that sickening but addictive feeling of butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. After the divorce, it felt so foreign to him that he didn’t even try. He had resigned himself to being a single father who co-parents and lives the rest of his life comfortably and quietly.

But here you were, rambling on with flushed cheeks and bright eyes trying your hardest to ask him out, and he couldn’t be more captivated.

There was just something about you. You were pretty, obviously. Anyone with eyes would’ve been able to see that. But there was something else, too. You were still young and not entirely pessimistic yet, with your whole career ahead of you. Probably no more than a few heartbreaks under your belt, able to muster up some sort of courage to fight for what you wanted. He used to have that, and he missed it — admired it, even. As you finally cut yourself off and looked up at him with mortification written across your face, Art saved you from further embarrassment with a smile. 

“Um…coffee sounds good,” he said with a shy smile. “Not from the cafeteria, though. If it’s as bad as it was when I went here, I’m not gonna let you waste your meal card money on it. There’s a cart outside of the athletics center, I stopped by it this morning. It’s still good.”

Trying your best to mask the shock you were feeling by his answer, you quickly nodded. “Oh, okay. Sounds good.”

You spent the entire afternoon with him. Coffee turned into lunch, and lunch turned into a long walk. Although you both had things to do, neither of you wanted to say goodbye and go on with your day. You skipped the rest of your classes for the day, letting Art show you around campus. He took you to all the places you had never been, and you kept quiet and let him show you anyway when you passed somewhere you had already been a hundred times. He was polite and asked you about your major and career goals, even managing a graceful smile when it was his turn to tell you about his career and how it unfolded after he graduated. He was careful to leave out the end, but he found himself comfortable enough to tell you about the first few years. You asked what you could, but you really didn’t know enough about the sport to ask much of anything.

“I’m boring you to death, aren’t I?” he asked when there was a lapse in silence after you passed a poster with his face on it for a Wimbledon campaign.

“No, not at all!” you replied, tilting your head up towards the poster. “I’m just wondering how you managed it.”

Art cocked a brow, turning towards you. “Managed what?”

“Not becoming a complete asshole,” you shrugged, making him burst out laughing. “I’m serious! You’re not the first celebrity to come here during alumni week. The difference between you and them is that you didn’t show up and immediately start bragging about how successful you had become. As far as I can tell, you’re the same as when you graduated. That seems pretty rare.”

“There’s not much to brag about,” he shrugged, too humble for his own good.

“A career Grand Slam isn’t worth bragging about?” you asked, turning away from him when he gave you a confused look. “Okay, fine, I may or may not have Googled you back in the restaurant while you were in the bathroom. I was running out of things to ask you, and I figured I should know something about tennis. Anyway, I was impressed.”

Art just chuckled. “I’m flattered.”

After walking a few more minutes, the street lamps turned on. It had gotten late enough in the evening that they were starting to light up around the darker parts of the campus. It was your cue to stop walking and look around, both of you realizing how long it had been since you started talking.

“I guess I should be headed back to my dorm,” you said, a hint of disappointment in your voice. “My roommate is probably freaking out by now. She knows I never really go anywhere after class without her—and yes, I heard how pathetic that sounded as it came out. She’s probably gonna call campus security if I don’t show up soon.”

Art nodded, knowing you were right. And yet, his feet didn’t move. Neither of you made any attempt to leave, still standing under the soft light of the street lamps. Art looked at you with soft eyes, absentmindedly reaching to fiddle with his wedding ring with his thumb before he remembered it wasn’t there anymore. Finally, he cleared his throat. 

“Well…I guess this is the part where I ask you for your number.”

“It was nice meeting you, too—” you started, doing a double take once his words registered. “Wait, what?”

Art let out a nervous laugh, shrugging. “You bought me a coffee, it’s only fair that I do the same. I’m here all week. Maybe you’d want to do this again sometime?”

“Uh, yeah! Yeah, that sounds good,” you replied, trying your best and failing to sound as nonchalant as you could.

Art smiled and pulled out his phone, opening his contacts. He handed it over to you, watching as you typed in your number before handing his phone back to him. You fought the heat pooling in your cheeks, fiddling with the strap of your bag. Art grinned, breaking the silence. 

“Go find your roommate. Tell her to call off the search party.”

You chuckled, nodding. “I’m on it. Well…bye, Art.”

“Bye, Y/N. I’ll text you,” he replied, enjoying watching you shuffle back and forth on your heels. 

He made you nervous. And for some reason, he liked that. He’d spent practically the last decade of his life perpetually nervous. It was nice to know someone else felt the same way. 

He watched you go as you turned around and headed back to your dorm, a distant but still familiar warmth in his chest. He’d only known you for a few hours, but he could already tell he liked you. By the time you made it back to your dorm and managed to come up with an excuse for your roommate who immediately interrogated you the second you stepped through the door, your phone was ringing. You excused yourself to the bathroom with a bashful grin on your face, answering the call.

—

You spent the better part of a week with Art when you both had time between your classes and his seminars. 

It felt surprisingly easy and normal talking to him. Your small talk about your careers and plans turned into more personal topics, and then you were talking about anything and everything. You were fully aware of the age gap between you two, but it didn’t bother you nearly as much as you thought it would. If anything, it was part of the draw to him. He was also kind and friendly, with a surprisingly self deprecating sense of humor that made you laugh. Not to mention the fact that he was drop dead gorgeous. You had to actively make sure he didn’t catch you staring at him when his head was turned. He made you want to actually giggle out loud, which is something you never thought you’d do over a guy.

By the end of the week when it was time for him to leave and go back to New York, you both were dreading saying goodbye. 

It was late in the evening, about an hour before he had to leave to catch his flight. He’d finally taken you to the courts, once again only lit by the street lamps overhead. It was the first time all week he’d stepped onto the court and actually wanted to be there, not surrounded by onlookers who knew every nook and cranny of his life and career. Instead it was you, the sweet pretty girl who made him genuinely laugh when you asked him why the points system would ever use the term love to describe a lacking score. 

He fiddled around for a while, teaching you a few serves and how to hold the racquet to hit the ball. Eventually he was on the other side of the net, watching you giggle and chase after the few balls he’d softly serve your way. He could hear you panting and the sound of your shoes skidding across the court, but your laughter was too sweet to make him stop. 

Finally, you stopped to take a break, sitting down on the bench. “Don’t look at me, I might cough up a lung.”

“Very impressive,” he smiled, passing you his water.

“Thank you,” you grinned, motioning between him in the court. “Go on, let’s see what you’ve got. I’m down for the count, but I’m sure the ball machine will be more than happy to fill in for me.”

Art smiled, watching you grin at him with flushed cheeks and glowy skin. If anyone else was asking, he wouldn’t have done it. He wasn’t interested in showing off his skills, or lack thereof to put it more accurately as of late — he’d stopped training as intensely after the divorce, no new tournaments waiting for him to come and win. But the look on your face when you asked was just one he couldn’t say no to. Plus, your knowledge of the sport wasn’t that vast. You probably wouldn’t notice if he slipped up anyway. And if you did, you’d be too kind to make him feel bad about it.

“If you insist,” he groaned, but he was still smiling to himself as he moved to the other side of the court.

You watched him play for a few more minutes. He really was something to see. Every movement he made was smooth and graceful, a far cry from the stumbling around and huffing and puffing you had been doing. Every ball hit its target, every serve lining up exactly where he wanted it to. As silly as it sounded, you actually had to prevent yourself from clapping once he finally slowed down and turned the machine off.

“Look at you go,” you smiled from the bench, handing him back his water as he walked back over.

His cheeks flushed pink, and he was silently praying you couldn’t see it from under the low lights. He was too busy getting all flustered to reply to you, and it made you smile. It was silent for a long moment as you stared at each other, before he finally stood up. You followed him, a sinking feeling in your gut as you realized that it was probably time to say goodbye.

It had been a week you had never even dreamed would’ve happened to you, and yet it did. The one risk you decided to take had led to the most fun you’d had in your entire time at Stanford. You didn’t want to see him go.

As you looked up at him with soft eyes and a melancholy look on your face, like you were looking to him for all the answers, Art felt a sharp tug in his chest. He found himself immediately wanting to fix it, wanting to make you smile again — smile because of him. He’d have done anything in that moment to get you to laugh again.

So, against his better judgment, he leaned in and kissed you. 

It was a spur of the moment decision, one he almost immediately regretted. But then he felt you sink into the kiss, your hands coming up to his waist to steady yourself. He cupped your cheeks and pulled you into him, unable to stop the smile spreading across his lips. 

And that was all it took — he was falling, and falling hard. 

—

That was months ago now, and yet, Art still found reasons to visit you. 

When there was lapses in tours, or it was Tashi’s week with Lily, he always somehow found himself ending up coming right back to you. He’d pick you up from your dorm, and you’d spend the entire day with him. On weekends, you ended up in whatever hotel he was staying at, telling your roommate you were going back home for a few days. When you weren’t together, you were constantly texting or calling. He even sent a postcard once when the ATP took him to Europe. It was cheesy, but you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face all day when you got it in the mail. 

You hadn’t exactly put a label on the relationship, but it was clear to the both of you that you meant more to each other than either of you cared to admit out loud. Quite a bit more, actually.

And Art wasn’t stupid — he knew what your relationship looked like. 

Recently divorced, a younger woman by his side. If they knew, the media would paint him as one of two options: an easily manipulated victim of a gold digger, or a washed up athlete who split with his wife that was now taking what he could get, the younger and prettier the better. 

But that wasn’t it at all for Art.

It wasn’t just sex, or a new pretty face. You were something different. A breath of fresh air. Someone who didn’t care about his career or money or fame. You had no interest in what he could offer you, or what you could get out of him. You never made him feel pressured to do anything or talk about anything he didn’t want to. He’d spent so many years craving a sense of normalcy and peace. Time and time again, he’d wanted to go to Tashi and beg for a break in his routine. But, always too afraid to disappoint her and everyone else watching him, he stayed quiet. He never got a break. As odd as it was to say, that’s what you were to him when he met you — a break. A minute to breathe, a moment to relax. He always felt that way around you.

Simply put, he was head over heels for you. He didn’t think he’d feel like that for another woman after Tashi until he met you, and it shocked him how easily the feeling came to him.

And it wasn’t just him that had fallen. 

You practically hung on every word he said, and soaked up every ounce of praise he gave you. You had never been with someone like him before. Someone so experienced and sure of himself, but just as gentle and patient as he was sure. He made you laugh and smile, and he made you feel safe. For whatever reason he had taken interest in you, you didn’t care, you just didn’t want it to stop. You clung to it, enjoying it while it lasted.

And if either of you had anything to say about it, it would last.

—

By the time you finished explaining your relationship with Art to your roommate, she was already pushing you out the door. 

“Go, go, go,” she squealed, tossing you your keys. “Wait!”

She wrapped her hand around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks as she glanced down at the outfit she chose. “Is that a new dress? Did he buy you a dress? Oh my god, please tell me he has a brother.”

“Not sure,” you grinned, smoothing your hand down your front. “Show up to alumni week next time and find out.”

You were already pressing a kiss to her cheek and rushing down the hall before she could get out another word, giggling as you made your way to the stairs.

On the drive over to the hotel, the nerves in your stomach were making you nervously tap your fingers on the steering wheel. You must’ve got caught by every stop light, making the trip even longer. You were practically vibrating once you finally pulled into the parking lot, grabbing your bag and hurrying inside before your nerves got the better of you and made you stand like an idiot in the lobby, trying to muster up the courage to get in the elevator. You coasted on autopilot as you forced your feet to lead you upstairs to his floor, all the way down to his door. You only came back into your body when you raised a hand to knock on the door, pausing to take a deep breath.

Just knock, you thought to yourself. You’re a big girl. Just knock.

You had barely even knocked twice on the door before the door swung open, and you came face to face with Art. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you took a second to take him in. Still as pretty as you remembered, and every bit as alluring. You could feel yourself melting. 

The feeling was mutual. 

Art let out a sigh of relief, like it was the first good breath he had taken in weeks. A genuine smile crept onto his face as he reached for you, practically making grabby hands like a child. 

“Come here, pretty girl.”

You tried and failed to stifle a giggle, immediately burying yourself in his chest. You let out a hmph as you pressed your cheek against him, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist. You could feel his thumb running along the bare skin of your arm, his lips pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He nudged the door closed with his foot, tugging your bag from your shoulder and setting it on the floor without even letting you go. He was warm to the touch, and steady against you. He hummed into your hair, squeezing you tighter.

“There she is,” he murmured, letting out a small laugh. “My girl.”

“Hi, baby,” you giggled, the sound making his heart soar in his chest. 

He slowly walked you backwards to the bed, supporting most of your weight as you laid down. He was quick to follow, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder. His arms hooked lazily around your waist, his weight pressing you into the mattress.

This is what you both had been waiting for. This feeling, this moment. Just this.

“You look very pretty today,” he whispered into your skin, pressing a kiss where his lips rested. “All this for me?”

The humor in his voice made you grin, your fingers running through his hair. “Couldn’t let you be that pretty all by yourself.”

Art smiled, pressing his face further into your neck as he let out a breath. You tightened your grip around him, holding him close. You let your eyes close, resting your cheek against the top of his head. 

A comfortable silence fell over the both of you, as easy as it ever was.

—

A/N - Hi! So sorry this took so long to get out, thank you for your patience. I keep rereading this and editing it over and over, I’m not totally happy with it. But something is better than nothing, and I’m tired of staring at, so here you go! Hope this is ok, let me know what you think :)

[ja3yun]

WIP | JA3YUN updated: 5th June 2024

I'm a Virgin, Not a Murderer | L.HS (mini-series)

virgin!heeseung x sex worker!reader

warnings: set in the 90's, eventual smut (mdni), oral (m.rec), fingering, unprotected sex, cream pie, murder, character death, mentions of sex work, strip clubs, running from the police, blood, guns, spec warnings on individual chapters.

wc: tbd (20k - 50k)

synopsis: heeseung is determined to lose his virginity before the end of college and luckily for him, you offer the perfect service; but what he doesn't anticipate is walking out the hotel room still a virgin and now a murderer.

release date: july 2024 (subject to change)

_____

IVY | L.HS x S.JY (3 part series)

prince!jake x princess!reader x royal guard!heeseung

warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, oral (m&f. rec), arranged marriage, cheating, anti-monarchy, longing and lots of plot, spec warnings on ind. chapters.

wc: tbd (30k - 40k)

synposis: you are set to marry prince jaeyun as a deal between kingdoms and surprisingly he is more than you could have ever hoped for. when you arrive at the castle you now call home, you meet his newly appointed royal guard heeseung who has been by your husband's side since they were children. feelings and loyalties get in the way and you find yourself tangled in the ivy

release date: tbd

_____

Art is Subjective | P.JS (one-shot)

rich boy!jay x art student!reader

warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, oral (f.rec), cum play, slight exhibitionism, classism, more tbd as i write

wc: tbh (7k - 10k)

synopsis: jay is told he has to make extra credit in university in order to graduate and is forced into the art class that you reside. he offers you money to complete his final project but when you don't meet his standards, he quickly shows you exactly how he wanted it.

release date: tbd

please do not ask to be on the taglists on this post! i have a perm taglist which is used for one-shots and series will have their own taglist which i will post for nearer the times of release. thank you <3

[simplybakugou]

Could you do another drink bakugo?

⋆ PAIRING: drunk/prohero!bakugou x fem!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: swearing; alcohol; all characters are adults ⋆ WORD COUNT: 3003

A/N: taking a break from mystic academia cause this has been sitting in my inbox for so long and i wanted to save it until i got some inspiration for another drunk!bakugou and i finally found the inspo hehe. also when i first started writing drunk!bakugou oneshots, i was 17 LMAO and now as a 23 y/o that has actually been drunk i can write this a little more accurately lol. also i was struggling trying to end this cause i didn’t want it to be longer than it already is (imo) lol so im sorry for the awkward ending. ty for requesting and i hope you enjoy!

© simplybakugou — all rights reserved. DO NOT REPOST/REUPLOAD, TRANSLATE, OR EDIT ANY OF MY CONTENT ON HERE OR ANY PLATFORM

It was a stupid idea. Why the hell would Bakugou go into a bar with the most loud and raucous people he knew even though he’d never drank a day in his life?

He couldn’t think of something he wanted to do less in that moment. He was exhausted, coming from a day of patrolling and hero work. Although his friends also came from their jobs, they actually drank alcohol and wanted to unwind after five years of constantly overworking themselves.

“Are you really not gonna get anything, Katsuki?” Sero questioned, giving the table’s drink orders to the bartender.

“I’m not fucking up my body just to look like an idiot like you dumbasses,” Bakugou huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair. 

“Why’d you come then?” Kaminari quipped, interested in hearing Bakugou’s answer.

“Cause your dumbass wouldn’t stop bothering me about coming out tonight!” Bakugou replied angrily.

“Oh yeah!” Kaminari exclaimed, laughing at himself. “I forgot.”

“It’s good to come out with us once in a while,” Kirishima said, nodding his head. “You’ve been working yourself to the bone since we graduated, man. We haven’t seen you in years.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Don’t be fucking ridiculous. I’m not stopping until I’m number one. You shits can drink all you fucking want but I’m not gonna sit around every week just to catch up.”

Kaminari sighed, shaking his head. “This is why you’ve never had a girlfriend.” Sero nodded along with him.

“And what the fuck does that have to do with anything?” Bakugou snarled, slamming his fist against the table out of annoyance.

“You’re a workaholic, dude,” Sero stated matter-of-factly. “When are you gonna have the time to date? If you slowed down a little you could’ve at least gone out with Y/N back when you had a crush on her in U.A.”

“I did not have a crush on that shitty girl.” Bakugou felt himself getting even more angered just hearing your name uttered. 

“You keep telling yourself that,” Kirishima said, patting his friend on the shoulder only to get shook off by Bakugou. 

The drinks Sero ordered arrived and the rest of the guys cheered each other before downing their beverages. Bakugou sipped on his water he was forced to get after Sero berated him to order something.  

The more alcohol his friends consumed, the more rowdy and even more raucous they got and Bakugou questioned even more why he decided to go out with them. It was karaoke night at the bar and Bakugou swore his ears were bleeding as Kaminari consistently kept attempting to serenade him.

Despite how chaotic it was in the bar that night, Bakugou eventually found himself enjoying it. Kaminari and Sero got the most drunk, getting up to dance and stumbling over one another, which made Bakugou and Kirishima burst into laughter. He would never tell them, but he needed this time out and away from the constant need to work towards his one and only goal. 

The night was going great; until the door to the bar opened. Bakugou turned his head to the noise of the bell ringing above the door. It stuck out amongst the voices and loud nature of the room and he felt his face drop at the sight.

There you were, five years older than the last time he had seen you in person. And you weren’t alone as your arm was looped around the arm of another man.

Bakugou couldn’t help but stare at the sight. He drowned out the sounds of Kaminari, Sero, Kirishima, and a few strangers they had recruited at the bar playing drinking games as his focus was only on you. You scanned the area, waving shyly to a few people that recognized you as their favorite rising hero and sat in the corner of the room with your mystery man.

Kirishima glanced at Bakugou, recognizing that he was distracted by something else and looked towards what had caught his eye. He immediately understood the reason for the defeated look on his friend’s face.

“I’m sorry, man,” Kirishima stated simply. 

“Sorry?” Bakugou scoffed. “For what? There’s nothing to be sorry about. We were never together.” The last part Bakugou muttered to himself as he finally tore his eyes away from you and down to his glass of water.

And it was true; you and Bakugou were never together back when you attended U.A. with him and the others. Matter of fact, you didn’t even know Bakugou liked you back then as he made it his mission that you never found out. Not only did he refuse to let himself be subjected to such vulnerable feelings like love and infatuation, you and your peers were constantly bombarded with hero work and dealing with the League of Villains to ever have the time for confessions. At the time, romantic relationships were trivial. 

As things died down by the time class A graduated, Bakugou busied himself with his long-time goal of wanting to become the number one hero. He kept telling himself that it was time to grow up and forget about what he assumed to be a little crush but the more he kept shoving his feelings inside, the more intense they became.

That was why it felt like a punch to the gut to see you laughing with and leaning onto a man that wasn’t him. 

“Hey, dunce face,” Bakugou grunted. Kaminari lifted his head and looked over at Bakugou with hazy eyes. “Get me the strongest drink here.”

“Dude, you really should slow down,” Kirishima urged, concerned as he watched Bakugou down shot after shot. “You’ve never drank before and this’ll probably mess you up fast.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Bakugou said in a rush, out of breath from the abundance of liquids he furiously ingested. He held the next shot glass to his lips, preparing himself to throw it back along with the countless shots he had already done; he felt like he was going to be sick, to no one’s surprise. Bakugou slammed the shot glass down onto the table, still full of alcohol, and he slammed his head onto the table as well. His head was throbbing but he felt like he could float in the air if he really tried. 

Kirishima chuckled at his friend, taking advantage of the situation and taking the shot glass away from Bakugou. 

Kaminari swung his arm around Bakugou’s shoulders. “See, dude, now we’re having fun!” The last word was elongated as he let out a small hiccup.

“Get the fuck off of me, dunce face,” Bakugou mumbled with his head still on the table, causing his words to be muffled. Nevertheless, Kaminari knew exactly what his grouchy friend had said but ignored him.

For the first time that night, Kaminari looked around the room and noticed you sitting alone now in the corner of the bar. He shot up, waving his hand out at you. “Y/N!”

Bakugou’s eyes, which were once closed shut as the alcohol was rushing to his head all at once, shot wide open as he whipped his head up. He felt dizzy from how quick the motion was. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Come on, man, she’s sitting over there all alone,” Kaminari reasoned, turning his attention back to you. You also had finally noticed your old classmates, smiling at the sight. “Hang out with us, Y/N!”

“Alone?” Bakugou questioned softly. He looked over at you and felt a wave of relief wash over him as he carefully watched you make your way to their table, mystery man out of the picture.

“I didn’t know you guys were here tonight,” you said with a smile. You sounded level-headed and Bakugou determined that you were probably the most sober person in the room that night.

“Yeah, we come here a lot after our patrol shifts,” Sero commented.

“All of you?” You questioned, interested as you scanned each of the guys sitting at the table. Finally you locked eyes with Bakugou and he swore your gaze could’ve pierced right through him. He broke eye contact first as he felt his face burning up even more with the effects of the alcohol. 

“We usually have to beg Katsuki to come out. You know how he is,” Kirishima teased, wanting to lighten the mood for his friend. It didn’t work as Bakugou still had a sour expression on his face.

“Wanna get a few drinks with us?” Kaminari offered.

You shook your head. “No, it’s alright. Tonight hasn’t gone the way I wanted so I think I’m going to call it a night. It was nice seeing you guys.”

You waved goodbye to the boys, sending a small smile towards Bakugou as you understood he was in a bad mood but not understanding why. Your back was turned to them as you walked towards the exit and it was a miracle how you didn’t have two vermillion holes in your back the way Bakugou was staring at you leaving.

Bakugou stood up abruptly and he grabbed his coat and wallet. He sloppily pulled out a few bills and slammed them on the table as he made his way out as well.

“Where are you going?” Kirishima questioned.

“Don’t worry about it.”

You cursed at yourself for leaving your jacket in your date’s car as the winter snow began to litter the streets. Your body was shivering terribly. The bar had a few tables and chairs in front of the building and you sat yourself down as you contemplated how on Earth you were going to get home. 

Before you could come up with a game plan, you felt a heavy leather jacket plop down onto your shoulders. You jumped at the sudden contact, watching as a clearly drunk-but-pretending-to-be-sober Bakugou sat himself in the chair across from you. “Bakugou! What’re you doing here?”

Bakugou ignored your question as he bluntly asked, “Where’s that fucker you came in with?”

You were taken aback by his questions. Only a few minutes ago did you realize that Bakugou, Kirishima, Kaminari, and Sero were there in the bar with you that night. If he had seen you with your date, that meant Bakugou had seen you when you walked in. 

You sighed, leaning back in your chair and pulling Bakugou’s jacket closer to you as it kept you warm. “He was being… weird.”

“Weird how.” It was a question but you sensed the animosity in Bakugou’s tone as his expression harshened in a way that made his question a statement.

You waved your hands to calm him down. Why was he so upset? “Nothing bad, don’t worry. He’s just some guy I started dating. We weren’t official or anything but I liked him. He said he didn’t like me being a hero and said I should get a job that’d suit me in a feminine way.” You chuckled humorlessly as you recalled the misogynistic comment.

“What a fucking loser,” Bakugou grumbled, loud enough for you to hear and laugh at. He leaned back in his chair, resting his eyes. “You told him to fuck off, right?”

You nodded, amused as you always were back in U.A. with Bakugou’s colorful vocabulary. “Yup. He got pissed and left me here and I left my stuff in his car like an idiot.” 

Bakugou opened his eyes and reached into his front pocket, cursing at himself as his fingers kept missing the opening seam. He pulled out his car keys and tossed them onto the table. You furrowed your eyes at the sight in confusion.

“Take my car to get home.”

You widened your eyes at his insane proposition, looking at the insignia on his keys as an expensive brand. “Bakugou, your car’s worth like a hundred million yen! There’s no way I can drive that!” 

“Just do it, idiot,” Bakugou groaned, placing his forehead on the cold, snow-covered table. “Can’t let you just sit here in the cold.”

A moment passed as you were contemplating your choices only to realize in that time, Bakugou had fallen asleep. You chuckled softly, never expecting to see health-conscious Bakugou who’s always been adamant about never drinking inebriated. 

You grabbed his keys and put them in the pocket of his leather jacket, slipping the jacket onto your arms. You knew you couldn’t just take his car and leave him here like this so you got up and went over to his side, gently shaking his shoulders to wake him. “Come on, big guy. We’re going home”

Bakugou let out a groan as you got him to his feet, your arm around his shoulders and you wrapped his arm around your waist to support him, resting your hand on his hand. You felt his body stiffen in reaction and you looked up at him curiously. His face was red again and you assumed it was a combination of the alcohol and the frigidness in the air. It most definitely was not either of those things.

“Where’d you park your car?” You asked as you slowly helped him walk.

He nodded in the direction ahead of you and you assumed he was referring to the parking lot that was thankfully right next to the bar. The two of you continued walking towards the lot and you found it unusual how quiet Bakugou was.

Once reaching the lot, you were originally going to search for Bakugou’s car only to not have to put any effort at all since his bright red sports car stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the Subarus and Toyotas.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Why am I not surprised by this at all, Bakugou.”

Bakugou flinched and he slowly pulled away from you, shoving his hands in his pockets as he wobbly made his way to his car. “Stop calling me that.”

“What? You don’t want me to call you Bakugou?” You question, confused. “Oh! I get it. You want me to call you by your hero name, right, Dynamight?”

“That’s not it either, idiot.”

“Oh, then, Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight?”

“You’re so stupid.” Bakugou stopped right in front of his car and turned around, slowly so that he wouldn’t fall over. He had his signature frown on his face only this time it was out of frustration. “Back in U.A. you’d call me Katsuki.”

“Yeah, I guess I did,” you said, nodding your head as you recalled doing so. “But that was five years ago. I haven’t seen you since then and I just wanted to be polite.”

Bakugou kept quiet but his eyes never faltered or wavered as he kept them on you. You felt like he could burn right through you if he tried as you didn’t understand his frustrations. “Is everything okay, Ba– I mean, Katsuki.”

Bakugou’s eyes slightly widened for a moment and he felt like he was transported back to being a teenager. “No. Everything’s not okay ‘cause I still have this stupid crush on you that I’ve had since our first year in U.A.”

He let out a sigh, feeling a weight on his shoulders dissipate and he turned around back towards his car. You stood in place, shocked at the confession that you did not foresee at all. There was no way the Bakugou Katsuki had a crush on you, especially when you were just teenagers.

“Open the door.” Bakugou turned his head to you as he waited by the passenger door.

“Wait, wait, wait.” You waved your hands in front of you, still unable to wrap his words around your head. “This has to be a joke. There’s just no way– Why would you have a crush on me?”

Bakugou shrugged. “Dunno. Just happened.”

Your face felt hot and it wasn’t because of the weather. So much of your relationship with Bakugou made sense with this new realization. The reason for his cold shouldering you on numerous occasions or annoyed stares he’d give you when you got in a relationship in your second year all started to make sense. It was his way of conveying his feelings for you. 

You shook your head, shaking the complex thoughts from your mind and snapping yourself back to reality as the cold air and Bakugou not having a jacket, since you were obviously wearing it, made you unlock his car with the key he gave you. You watched as Bakugou entered his car on the passenger side.

You knew you needed to give yourself a minute before you could enter the car beside him. How did you feel about him? You always thought he was handsome, when he wasn’t scowling at least, and you enjoyed seeing him mature every year in U.A. Even after graduation, you always watched the news fondly as you watched him evolve into an incredible hero, one that you knew was worthy of becoming number one. 

So Bakugou Katsuki liked you. If your poor previous relationships taught you anything, it was to not turn down a good man when he was right in front of you. Or at least sitting in his sports car waiting for you to drive the two of you home since he was unexpectedly inebriated to do so himself. 

Taking in a breath, you knew what you had to do; you wanted to see where this would go between the two of you. You opened the driver’s side door, sitting in your seat and collecting your thoughts briefly before turning to Bakugou to tell him exactly what was on your mind. You wanted to give it a shot.

And you were intent on doing just that until you turned to look at Bakugou only to see he was once again fast asleep, his chest rising and falling. You chuckled at the sight, taking in how adorable he was in that moment. Slipping his jacket off your body, you draped it over his body.

“Guess you’ll have to stay with me tonight.”

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[historicalbeauties]

Amy Appelhans Gubser could see the Farallon Islands from her house on clear days, and would always joke with her husband that she could swim there.

5 years ago, the nurse and grandmother who lives in Pacifica started to work on this crazy idea. Gubser sought out open-water swimming mentors for guidance and even got resources through the Marathon Swimming Federation, yet things never lined up until this year.

On May 11, in 17 hours, 3 minutes, she finally made her vision come true and completed the 29.6-mile swim from the Golden Gate Bridge to the Farallon Islands.

Gubser has been around the ocean since she was 10 years old. She became an ocean lifeguard in high school and college, and also swam at the University of Michigan, yet after graduation didn’t get back into the water for 24 years.

When Gubser finally did return, she was doing more open-water swimming, for instance, swims across Lake Tahoe and Monterey Bay. The woman would always see the Farallon Islands from her house and would dream about one day swimming there.

The outbound route to the Farallon Islands is known for going against the currents, and only 5 people had previously completed the trek in the inbound direction, from the Farallons to the Golden Gate. According to the Marathon Swimmers Foundation, Gubser is the only one to complete that specific route without a wetsuit. Before her, two men successfully completed the swim in 2014, and there were also 3 recorded failures between 2012 and 2015.

The location is also known for white sharks. “The elephant in the room is white sharks, and they were in the back of my mind at all times during the swim. We didn’t take the shark thing lightly – I had a savvy crew that kept watch for them from a boat and kayak. They were ready to jump into the water to help me if I needed, but we had no shark sightings the whole time,” said Gubser. Fortunately, during the journey, she encountered several seals yet no sharks.

Another obstacle was the water temperature. She had trained to swim in cold water, but the water got as cold as 46 degrees Fahrenheit that day and it was something the woman didn’t expect and wasn’t ready for. A wetsuit probably would have helped here, but no matter the warmth and added buoyancy, she wasn’t wearing it.

“Wetsuits are a great piece of equipment, especially for people that are starting out in open water. But I follow the Marathon Swim Federation rules and the open water swim world rules that, for the last 150 years, have been the same. Which is a swimsuit, a cap, some form of goggles, earplugs and a nose clip,” explained Gubser. “When you wear a wetsuit your skin rubs against the material, and the last thing that I really wanted was for my skin to bleed near a shark island.”

The 55-year-old grandmother of two with a third on the way was very happy about her accomplishment when, no matter all the challenges, including intense fog in the Pacific Ocean all along the way, she finally reached the Farallon Islands at around 8:30 p.m. that night.

“For 17 hours, I had no idea where I was, what was going on. I had a thought bubble around me that only allowed us to see 100 meters in any direction. I went into a meditative state. There were some 30-minute time intervals that passed very quickly. Others seemed like they were 300 hours,” she explained.

“My whole family is so relieved, because I have been talking about this thing for five years, and my husband will be the first to tell you he’s just grateful it’s done,” shared Gubser. “I hope this story inspires somebody to not be challenged by a number [like] their age or their weight. I mean, all of my body got me across that. That’s pretty impressive.”

[divinelyparkjimin]

— taste of you [m] | pjm.

◦ summary ↠ getting yourself off to your childhood friend’s sexual escapades was definitely not on your radar, but seems like it should’ve been a long time ago.

◦ pairing ↠ jimin x reader

◦ word count ↠ 5.2k

◦ genre ↠ smut, fluff, angst-ish

◦ content warning(s) ↠ fuckboy!jimin, childhood friends to lovers, roommate au, suggestive/explicit content, dirty talk, thigh riding, penetrative sex, ejaculation, f. and m. orgasm, oral sex, fingering, vouyerism (?), masturbation, alcohol consumption

a/n: i put together another one for you guys! hope you enjoy <3

masterlist

Sitting on the couch in the living room, you held a book in your lap, though you hadn't turned a page in the past twenty minutes. The soft glow of the late morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a warm light on the cozy apartment. The space was a blend of both you and your roommate, Jimin’s, personalities: your collection of plants thriving in the corners, and Jimin's eclectic mix of posters and musical instruments scattered about. A framed photo of the two of you at your high school graduation hung on the wall, a reminder of the years you had shared.

Your eyes kept drifting to the hallway, waiting for the inevitable sound of Jimin's bedroom door opening. The apartment was unusually quiet this morning, the calm before the storm. Sure enough, the door creaked open, and you heard the soft, murmured goodbyes. A minute later, a petite, pretty brunette emerged, looking slightly disheveled but clearly satisfied. She glanced at you with a polite nod, her high heels clicking softly against the hardwood floor as she made her way to the front door. The scent of her perfume lingered in the air, mixing with the aroma of fresh coffee.

Jimin followed shortly after, wearing his usual post-hookup grin. His dark hair was tousled, and his t-shirt was slightly wrinkled. There was a certain smugness in his stride that was both infuriating and oddly endearing. He stopped in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Another one, huh?" you quipped, raising an eyebrow as you set your book aside. "Didn't you have a girl over just last night? What’s going on, Jimin? Suddenly in heat after being a big ‘ol virgin in high school?"

Jimin chuckled, running a hand through his messy hair. "Guess I'm making up for lost time," he said, flashing you a playful wink.

You shook your head, unable to keep the smirk off your face. "Never thought I'd see the day. The shy boy next door turned playboy extraordinaire. What happened to you?"

He shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "People change, you know."

As he sauntered into the kitchen, you followed, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach. The kitchen was bright and airy, with sunlight streaming through the large windows. The small dining table where the two of you often shared meals was cluttered with the remnants of breakfast: an empty cereal bowl, a half-finished cup of coffee, and a plate with crumbs. Jimin moved to the coffee maker, his back muscles rippling under his shirt as he poured himself a cup.

"You sure you're okay with this?" he asked, turning to face you, his expression suddenly serious. "I mean, if it's bothering you, I can tone it down."

You forced a laugh, waving off his concern. "It's fine, Jimin. We're adults. You can do what you want."

But the truth was, it wasn’t fine. The more you tried to brush it off, the harder it became to ignore the growing tension inside you. Each night, as the sounds from his room filled the apartment, you found it increasingly difficult to sleep. The moans, the bed creaking, the unmistakable intimacy—it all sent a shiver down your spine, making your cheeks flush and your heart race. You’d lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to push the images forming in your mind aside. But the curiosity and arousal were impossible to ignore. You started seeing Jimin in a way you never had before, wondering what it would be like to be one of those girls.

Mornings became a minefield of awkward encounters. You’d bump into his overnight guests in the kitchen, exchanging polite smiles and trying to mask your discomfort. Jimin, for his part, seemed oblivious to your internal struggle. He would flash you his usual bright smile, completely unaware of the turmoil he was causing within you.

One morning, as you poured yourself a cup of coffee, you couldn’t help but steal glances at the girl Jimin had brought home the night before. She was stunning, with perfect hair and a confident air that made you feel oddly inadequate. You wondered what Jimin saw in her, and whether he had ever looked at you the same way. The thought sent a pang of jealousy through you, but you quickly shoved it aside, forcing yourself to act normal.

This newfound awareness of Jimin’s sexual escapades was driving you crazy. You found yourself unable to concentrate on anything, your mind constantly drifting back to the sounds and sights that had become a part of your nightly routine. The more you tried to ignore it, the stronger the feelings grew.

As the days passed, your curiosity began to flourish further and further towards lust, which it was already quite a lot of. You started paying more attention to Jimin, noticing the way his muscles flexed when he moved, the way his eyes sparkled when he laughed, the way his voice deepened when he spoke to his conquests. You were seeing him in a completely new light, and it was both exhilarating and terrifying.

That evening, after a particularly loud night of giggles and thumping from Jimin's room, you found yourself in the kitchen, brewing a pot of chamomile tea in a desperate attempt to calm your nerves. The door to Jimin’s room opened, and you heard soft footsteps approaching. You stiffened, your heart rate picking up as Jimin entered the kitchen, shirtless and looking annoyingly perfect despite the late hour.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, leaning casually against the counter.

“Yeah, something like that,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

He grinned, clearly oblivious to the turmoil he was causing. “Didn’t mean to keep you up,” he said, his tone teasing. “Or maybe I did,” he added with a wink.

You rolled your eyes, though a small part of you couldn't help but appreciate the sight of him. “You’re impossible, Jimin.”

He stepped closer, and you could smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with something uniquely him. “You know, if you ever need a distraction…” he started, his voice dropping to a low, seductive tone.

Your breath hitched. “Don’t joke about that,” you said, more harshly than you intended.

He looked taken aback, his playful expression fading. “Hey, I was just kidding. Are you okay?”

You sighed, turning away to pour your tea. “I’m fine, Jimin. Just tired.”

But you weren’t fine. You were far from fine, a potent mix of jealousy and desire taking root within you. It was like your body had a mind of its own, going into heat anytime you’d cross paths with him.

It felt strange to you, considering this was the boy you’d grown up with for such a huge portion of your life. You’d been by his side when he was an ultra nerd, when he wouldn’t dare make a move on a single girl. You’d never imagined you could ever see him as more than that, but here you were.

“Jimin, can I ask you something?” You felt your heart skip a beat.

“Anything,” he replied, his expression soft.

“Why do you do it?” you asked, surprising even yourself with the question. “All the girls, I mean.”

He seemed to ponder this for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just…easy, I guess. No strings, no complications.”

You looked at him, trying to keep your voice steady. “But isn’t it lonely? Doesn’t it make you feel empty?”

Jimin shrugged, a nonchalant smile on his face. “Not really. I’m just having fun, you know?”

Your chest tightened, but you kept your tone light. “You’re not as invincible as you think you are, you know. One day, you’re going to meet someone who makes you want to risk everything.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Maybe, but I’m not worried about that right now. I’m just taking things as they come.”

You nodded, though your mind was far from at ease. “I hope you find what you’re looking for, Jimin.”

He gave you a casual smile. “Thanks. And hey, don’t worry about me. I’m doing just fine.”

You forced a smile in return. “Yeah, I know. Just take care of yourself.”

And with that, you returned to your room, plunging onto the soft cotton sheets that covered your bed. The memory of his teasing words lingered in your mind. “You know, if you ever need a distraction…” His voice had dropped to a low, seductive tone, and though you’d laughed it off at the time, the suggestion had planted a seed in your mind.

Alone in the dim light of your room, your thoughts wandered back to Jimin. You couldn’t deny the magnetic pull you felt towards him, the way your body reacted to his touch, his voice, his presence. You found yourself imagining what it would be like to take him up on his offer, to let him distract you in the most intimate way.

Your hand drifted down your body, your breath hitching as you let your fantasies take over. You imagined the feel of his strong, thick thighs under you, the way they would flex and shift as you rode them. The thought made your pulse quicken, and you let out a soft sigh, your fingers tracing lazy circles over your skin.

In your mind, you could see Jimin’s intense gaze, feel his hands on your hips, guiding you. The way his muscles would ripple under your touch, the low growl of his voice as he whispered your name. You imagined the way his thighs would feel beneath you, strong and steady, the friction igniting every nerve in your body.

Your breathing grew heavier, your movements more urgent as you lost yourself in the fantasy. The thought of being with Jimin, of feeling him in such an intimate way, sent waves of pleasure through you. You could almost hear his voice, feel his breath against your skin, the heat of his body enveloping you.

It wasn’t long before your fantasies reached their peak, your body trembling with release. You lay there for a moment, catching your breath, your mind still filled with images of Jimin. The intensity of your desire surprised you, and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to turn your fantasies into reality.

The next weekend, Jimin knocked on your bedroom door, poking his head in with a grin. “Hey, you got any plans tonight?”

You looked up from your book, raising an eyebrow. “Not really. Why?”

“I’m heading to the club with some friends,” he said, stepping inside. “You should come with us.”

You shook your head, laughing softly. “You know I’m not into that scene, Jimin. I’m fine here.”

He walked over to your bed, sitting on the edge. “Come on, you’re always sitting at home. One night out won’t kill you. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

You sighed, setting your book aside. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t know what to do there.”

Jimin smiled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Just let loose for once. Dance, have a few drinks, and enjoy yourself. I’ll be there with you the whole time.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. “I’m really not sure. It’s not my thing.”

“Please,” he said, giving you his best puppy-dog eyes. “Do it for me? I hate seeing you cooped up all the time.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his expression. “Alright, alright. I’ll go. But if it gets too much, I’m leaving.”

“Deal,” Jimin said, standing up and pulling you to your feet. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “I better not.”

As you got ready, you felt a mix of excitement and nerves. Jimin was right—you rarely went out, and maybe it was time to change that. You put on a nice outfit, something that made you feel confident, and met Jimin in the living room.

“Ready?” he asked, smiling warmly at you.

“Ready,” you replied, feeling a flutter of anticipation in your stomach.

With Jimin by your side, you set out for the club, wondering what the night had in store.

The music was loud, the lights were dazzling, and the drinks were flowing. After a few shots, you felt more relaxed, the alcohol dulling your inhibitions. Jimin stayed close to you all night, dancing and laughing in a way that made you feel like you were the only two people in the room.

The club was packed, a sea of bodies moving to the throbbing bass that reverberated through the air. Flashing lights painted the room in hues of blue and red, creating an almost hypnotic atmosphere. You and Jimin had already downed a few shots, the alcohol buzzing warmly through your veins, making everything feel a little more vibrant and a lot less restrained.

You found yourselves on the dance floor, pressed close together by the throng of people. The music pounded around you, a sultry beat that seemed to dictate the movements of your bodies. Jimin's hands found your hips, pulling you against him, and you didn't resist. You’d never felt his touch in a way so intimate before. The feel of his body so close to yours was electrifying, and you let the music take over, swaying in perfect rhythm with him.

Jimin’s breath was hot against your ear as he leaned in to speak, his voice barely audible over the music. “You’re a really good dancer,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin.

You shivered, pressing closer to him. “So are you,” you replied, feeling bolder than usual. The alcohol had stripped away your inhibitions, leaving you more daring and less concerned about the consequences.

As the song changed to something even more sensual, Jimin's hands roamed a bit more, sliding up and down your sides, occasionally grazing the small of your back. Each touch sent a jolt through you, making your heart race. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer, your bodies moving as one.

Your faces were inches apart now, and you could see the intensity in Jimin's eyes. There was something different about the way he looked at you tonight—something that made your pulse quicken and your breath hitch. His eyes flickered to your lips, and for a moment, you thought he might kiss you right there on the dance floor.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he whispered, his voice husky and filled with something you couldn’t quite identify—desire, perhaps, or something even deeper.

“Good,” you whispered back, the word escaping before you could think better of it.

The tension between you was palpable, a current that made every touch, every brush of skin against skin, feel like a spark. You weren’t sure how much longer you could stand it. The alcohol had dulled your fears but sharpened your desires, and all you wanted was to close the small gap between you and feel his lips on yours.

Jimin seemed to feel the same way. His grip on your waist tightened, and he leaned in even closer, his lips almost touching your ear. “You wanna head back?” he suggested, his voice barely more than a breath. “It’s feeling a little stuffy in here.” You nodded, simply wanting to be alone with him. You quickly bid your friends goodbye, before taking off.

Jimin took your hand in his, leading you through the crowd and out of the club, the cool night air hitting you like a shock after the heat of the dance floor. The tension between you was still there, simmering just below the surface.

The ride home in the Uber had been a blur, the tension between you growing with each passing second. You both sat close, his leg pressed against yours, the occasional brush of his hand against your thigh sending sparks through your body. You exchanged lingering glances, the desire in his eyes reflecting your own.

Back at the apartment, the door had barely closed behind you before Jimin was on you again, his hands on your waist as he backed you against the wall. The electricity between you crackled in the air, making every nerve in your body stand on end.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, his voice low and intense as he looked into your eyes.

You shivered, pressing closer to him. “I think I’m starting to get an idea,” you replied, breathless.

He leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and hungry, as if he had been waiting for this moment forever. You kissed him back with equal fervor, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer.

The kiss deepened, growing more intense as the pent-up tension between you finally found release. His hands roamed your body, sending shivers down your spine with every touch. You could feel the heat radiating off him, matching the fire that burned inside you.

Just as things were escalating, Jimin suddenly pulled back, breathing heavily. “I can’t do this,” he said, his voice strained.

You blinked, trying to process his words. “What’s wrong?” you asked, your heart sinking.

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t think I can do this with you.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, your heart sinking at his words as your throat grew tight. “You do this all the time. Why is it any different with me?”

Jimin sighed, looking tormented. “Because it’s not the same. It’s... it’s different.”

You felt a mix of anger and sadness rising. “Different how? Were you not liking it?”

“No, it’s not that,” he said quickly, reaching for your hand. “I just… really care about you. And I don’t want to just have a quick, meaningless hookup with you.”

His confession left you stunned. “What do you mean?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“I thought sleeping around would make it easier to stop thinking about you, but it’s never felt right.” Jimin took a deep breath, his voice tinged with regret. “I can’t treat it like you’re just another girl because you’re not. I’ve always wanted it to be you, but I knew I didn’t really stand a chance.”

You felt a lump in your throat, tears welling in your eyes. “So you’ve been avoiding me because you care about me?”

He nodded, looking both vulnerable and relieved. “Yes. I know it sounds messed up, but I didn’t know how else to deal with it. I didn’t want to ruin what we have.”

You took a step closer, your heart pounding. “Jimin, I want you too. I know I said it didn’t bother me, but it’s honestly been driving me insane. I couldn’t help but feel jealous whenever you’d bring all the girls in, you know?”

His eyes widened with surprise and relief. “You did?”

You nodded, feeling a mixture of hope and longing. “Yes. I wanted you, Jimin. I still do.”

The air between you crackled with unspoken desire as you closed the gap between you, your lips meeting in a kiss that was filled with all the emotions you had kept bottled up. This time, it wasn’t just about lust—it was about love and longing, and the connection you both craved.

As the kiss deepened, you felt Jimin’s hands on your back, pulling you closer. This time, there was no hesitation, no holding back. You both knew what you wanted. Jimin slipped his firm hands beneath your thighs, lifting you up in a swift movement, keeping his lips connected to yours. You locked your legs around his torso, arms placed around his neck.

His lips felt perfect against your own, the pillowy feeling of them pulling you deeper into the moment. You gasped for air every now and then, but were not given much of a break before the two of you were at it again, more passionate than before. Your fingers traced along the back of his neck as you were buried in each other’s faces, occasionally gripping at his hair.

“F-Fuck Y/N, I’ve wanted this so bad,” Jimin croaked, heavy breaths escaping his lips.

“Trust me, I have too.” You chuckled, pecking his nose before going back into his lips. You found yourself sucking on his bottom lip and had each other’s tongues periodically crossing the barriers between the two of you.

Jimin placed his hands at your ass, as if for a better grip on you, before carrying you over to his bedroom. The journey there was a shaky one, as neither of you could seem to separate from basking in the feelings of one another. Upon arrival, he set you on his bed, before pulling off his shirt and crawling atop you.

Your eyes followed him with delight, staring up at him with doe eyes that he couldn’t help but grin at.

“God, you’re so cute.” Jimin’s hand rose up to touch your face, his large thumb swiping along your cheek. He pecked the same spot, sending shivers down your spine. He then leaned back, his eyes taking in your form with a mix of admiration and desire.

Slowly, you tugged at the hem of your own shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside. Jimin's eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, and his hands quickly followed, exploring the newly exposed skin. His touch was both gentle and possessive, making your body arch into him with every caress.

Jimin's lips traveled down your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses that made you shiver. He nipped at your collarbone, eliciting a gasp from you as his hands roamed over your curves. You felt his fingers fumble with the clasp of your bra, and within moments, it was discarded, leaving you bare to his hungry gaze.

“Beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his lips finding their way to your breasts. He took his time, savoring each kiss and lick, driving you wild with need. Your hands roamed over his toned back, feeling his muscles flex beneath your touch as he continued his ministrations.

You couldn’t wait any longer. Your hands traveled down his torso, fingers tracing the lines of his abs before reaching the waistband of his jeans. You fumbled with the button, your eagerness evident as you finally managed to undo it. Jimin chuckled softly, a sound filled with both amusement and anticipation.

“Eager, aren’t we?” he teased, but his voice was thick with desire. He helped you with the rest, quickly shedding his jeans and boxers. The sight of him, fully naked and aroused, sent a jolt of anticipation through you.

He leaned back down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as his hands made quick work of removing the last of your clothing. Now, with nothing between you, the heat of his body against yours was almost overwhelming. You could feel the evidence of his desire pressing against you, making your own arousal spike.

Jimin’s hand slid between your thighs, his fingers teasing your entrance before slipping inside.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he muttered. “I guess you really haven’t gotten any in a while.” A sly smirk appeared on his face as your face turned into a face of shock.

“Hey—!” you began, before you were cut off by his hand covering your mouth.

“Shh,” Jimin whispered, his eyes darkening with desire. “Let me take care of you.”

You moaned into his mouth as he pressed further against your g-spots. Your hips bucked against his hand as he worked you with skilled, deliberate movements. Every touch, every stroke, brought you closer to the edge. His fingers thrusted inside you, curling to hit that perfect spot that made your vision blur even harder.

Your moans grew louder, the sound filling the room as your body tensed, every muscle tightening in anticipation. Jimin’s other hand slid up your body, cupping your breast and rolling your nipple between his fingers, adding another layer of sensation to the mix.

“Jimin, I’m so close,” you panted, your hips moving in time with his thrusts, chasing the climax that was just out of reach. He bit down gently on your earlobe, his breath hot and ragged in your ear.

“Come for me, baby. I want to feel you,” he growled.

The combination of his words, his touch, and the raw intensity in his eyes left you pooled with desperation. Your orgasm hit you with a force that left you breathless, your body convulsing around his fingers as waves of pleasure crashed over you. You cried out his name, your nails digging into his back as you rode out the climax.

Jimin didn’t stop, continuing to pump his fingers inside you, prolonging your pleasure until you were a quivering mess beneath him. When he finally pulled his hand away, he brought his fingers to his lips, licking them clean with a satisfied smirk.

“God, you taste amazing,” he said, his eyes dark with lust as he looked down at you. You were still catching your breath, your body humming with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“Jimin,” you breathed, reaching up to pull him down into a kiss. Your tongues tangled together, the taste of yourself on his lips adding to the intimate connection between you.

He pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against yours. “Ready for more?” he asked, his voice a low, seductive murmur.

You nodded, your heart racing with anticipation. “Always,” you whispered, your body already aching for his touch again.

It was not long before his lips were back in contact with your skin, trailing kisses down your body which left a scorching path from your neck to your navel. Every touch sent shivers through you, your skin tingling with anticipation. When he reached your thighs, he gently spread them apart, positioning himself between them.

“Jimin…” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper. The sight of him, his eyes locked onto yours with such intensity, made your heart race.

“I’ve always wondered what you’d taste like,” he murmured, his tone laced with eagerness. He leaned in closer, his tongue flicking out to taste you. The sensation made you gasp, your hips bucking involuntarily.

“God, you’re perfect,” he groaned, his hands gripping your thighs to hold you in place as he continued his exploration. His tongue moved with expert precision, each stroke sending waves of pleasure through you. He sucked gently on your clit, making your head spin and your breath come in ragged gasps.

“Jimin, please,” you begged, your fingers tangling in his hair as you tried to pull him closer. The need for release was overwhelming, every nerve in your body on fire.

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with lust and satisfaction. “Not yet, baby. I want to make you feel everything.”

As the intensity between you reached its peak, you felt a surge of boldness wash over you. Breaking away from the kiss, you looked up at Jimin with flushed cheeks and a determined gleam in your eyes.

"Jimin," you breathed, your voice barely more than a whisper, "I want to ride your thigh."

His eyes widened in surprise, but a smirk quickly spread across his lips. "Hell yeah," he replied, his voice husky with seduction. “I didn’t know you were into that.”

You straddled his thigh, feeling the heat of his skin against yours as you positioned yourself just right. With a shaky breath, you began to move, your hips rolling against him in slow motions.

The friction was exquisite, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body with each movement. Jimin's hands roamed your curves, guiding you as you found a rhythm that drove you both wild.

You threw your head back, letting out a low moan as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable level. Jimin's thigh provided the perfect amount of pressure, hitting all the right spots and pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Despite the immense feelings of pleasure, it didn’t seem to be enough, so you wanted more.

“I need you, Jimin,” you breathed, barely able to form the words as pleasure clouded your mind.

He didn’t need any more encouragement. Aligning himself with you, he slowly pushed his length inside you, filling you completely. The sensation was both intense and intimate, making you gasp as your bodies finally joined.

Jimin set a slow, steady pace, his movements deep. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure through you, building steadily until you felt like you might burst. His lips never strayed far from yours, kissing you with a passion that matched the intensity of his movements. The familiar sound of his headboard banging against the wall filled the room as his thrusts grew rougher. It was a noise you were used to hearing from the other side of the wall, but were now able to experience for yourself.

Your hands clutched at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you rode the waves of pleasure. The rhythm between you was perfect, a dance of desire and emotion that brought you closer with every thrust.

“Jimin, I’m gonna—” you cried out, unable to hold back any longer.

“Do it, Y/N. Come,” he urged, his voice a low growl.

The orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over you with an intensity that left you trembling. Your vision blurred, your mind going blank as pleasure consumed you. Jimin continued to lap at you yet again, drawing out your climax until you were completely spent. Jimin held you close, his own release mingling with yours, the connection between you deeper than it had ever been.

Finally, he pulled away, crawling back up your body to capture your lips in a slow, tender kiss. As the waves of pleasure subsided, you lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, your bodies still entwined. Jimin pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his breath warm against your skin.

“That was amazing, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice filled with contentment. In that moment, everything felt perfect, the years of friendship and unspoken desire finally culminating in something beautiful.

Jimin chuckled softly, breaking the silence. “So, does this mean we can make this a regular thing?”

You laughed, playfully swatting his chest. “Are you saying you can’t get enough of me already?”

“Pretty much,” he grinned. “I don’t I could ever get enough of this.” His eyes sparkled with mischief as they drifted down the length of your body.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you. “Neither do I, Jimin.”

With that, you both settled into a comfortable silence, cuddled close, bare skin against bare skin. As the night grew quieter, the rhythm of your breathing began to sync, and you found yourselves drifting off to sleep in each other’s arms.

a/n: feel free to leave a comment or slip into my inbox to let me know what you think! feedback is always appreciated :>

masterlist

[sssammich]

Let's try again...

💜 surprise kiss / impulsive kiss for Supercorp

💜 surprise kiss / impulsive kiss

thanks! alright let's seeeeee

ask meme

---

lena would never admit it, but one of her favorite past times is watching kara. call her a basic useless queer, but she can't help staring at her best friend across the couch from her. she's standing by the window of lena's office, pacing back and forth with a rolled up stack of papers as she essentially talks to herself.

the pacing has since graduated from kara standing on one side, giving out her lines before pivoting on her heel in a split second as if she's arguing with herself. lena can't help the smirk on her face when kara frowns at herself when she misses a line and has to open her stack of papers, haloed by the sun streaming through the windows.

now, lena knows that this is kara practicing for a speech she's about to give as a first time keynote speaker at an upcoming media conference tomorrow. but for now, she's more than happy to bask at this private performance that only she is privy to.

when kara huffs and practically tears the paper in her hands to shreds, lena is out of her seat on the couch and placing her own to stop her friend from making confetti.

"hey, hey," she starts, gentle. "what's going on?"

kara huffs, her glasses sliding just a smidgen down her nose. "i don't know why i agreed to this at all. i'm good with words, but not like this."

"now you know that's not true. you give hope speeches for a living. well, for a side gig."

that elicits an amused snort, albeit reluctant, from kara. "but this is different! i'm supposed to be talking about my work experience and my journey to becoming a senior reporter. that's less..." kara's words tapering off with a shrug.

"less what?"

"i don't know. less cool, i guess. i think about how i got this job and the other people in my office who are just as deserving of being able to share their work and their stories like me."

lena sighs, her heart warmed at her friend's admission, appreciative of her even more and think that through that alone, she thinks that kara deserves to try and share her story.

"then share their story. lift their voices up too. talk about your journey and theirs. let the people know that you're honored for the privilege of speaking to them but you're not the only one, and that the rest of your colleagues are a testament to that," she offers, suggesting a way to get kara out of any potential spiral that she might find herself in.

somehow, those are the right words to say to kara, who is now intently staring at her, nodding vigorously in understanding. then, before she knows what's happening, soft lips are on hers, their bodies pressed together. her mind, her panicking-and-going-cuckoo-bananas mind, finally catches up with what's going on and her body sinks into kara, her lips moving in synchronicity with kara's.

hands appear on her cheeks, cradling her, as her own hands wind up clutching at Kara's shoulders. if not for the need to breathe, lena thinks she would have stayed in that exact moment in time for the rest of her life, if she could.

with her chest slightly heaving, her eyelids slowly flutter open to find ocean blue eyes staring at her in what she can only assume is an identical dazed expression on her face.

"wow."

wow is right, she thinks. "wh-what was that for?"

kara shakes her head, but there's a smile on her face. her thumbs are caressing lena's cheeks. in response, she brings her hands to cradle kara's nape, her fingers just barely interlocking.

"i'd been wanting to do that for a while, but then you started talking and being so helpful and good and i just..."

"had to, huh?"

kara nods, smiles. "yeah."

she returns the smile with an earsplitting one of her own. "i know the feeling."

this time, it's she who leans forward.

[imagine-knowing-a-name]

i was once like you are now

»»————-　★　————-««

Word Count: 815 Pairing: Natasha Romanoff & Reader Warnings: Angst, injuries A/N: idk, this could be utter trash but I just wanted to write and post something again. Even if it's this short fic written in one go at 1am and then never reread, so read at your own risk lol.

»»————-　★　————-««

For so many years, it had just been you and Natasha. Sure, you both had other groups and other friends and lives of your own, but when it came down to it, it would always be just you and her. It was you and her who met on the first day of SHIELD academy, you and her who partnered for every training exercise and sparred together out of hours, and it was you and her who graduated together, taking your roles as official SHIELD agents, together. 

After leaving the dorms of the academy, the two of you moved in together -- a matter of convenience since you shared the same office. You accompanied each other on missions, becoming a formidable pair with your uncanny ability to work in sync as partners, often seeming to predict what the other would do before they'd even decided themselves. 

Truly, the only thing you didn't do together, was teaching. Natasha had one cohort, you had the other, and, with every class taught, the rivalry became more infamous throughout SHIELD. Scoreboards were set up, tallies were kept, and even graduated recruits maintained their allegiance to their academy teacher: one side or the other, as you and Natasha used your students to engage in friendly (but ruthless) competition with each other.

The history between the two of you was undeniable, and to just say that you 'had history' would be putting it too lightly. After all, that history had transcended your friendship and become engrained in the SHIELD values for the last few years' cohorts. It seemed infallible, unstoppable, everlasting.

You suppose that's why it hit so hard when it all came crashing down. And what a crash it was. 

A partnership so long, severed in the same amount of time it took for your spine to snap. 

Now here you were, in an empty apartment across the world from the newest Avenger. Clint will teach the new academy cohort; his group will rival Natasha's. She will continue with her life: a life of missions, secrecy, and public image, all simultaneously. She was picked for the Avengers, to protect the world, and you know that she'll do her job well, like she always does and always has.

You, meanwhile, will never walk again -- a phrase the medics said with such certainty that it left no room for hope -- you will never fight again, run again, spy again. You will never work for SHIELD again. 

The organisation provided for you, as 'a thank you for your service', but mostly because you were injured whilst working for them. They paid for your flight to New Zealand, for the house you now live in, and for the transport of your belongings from yours and Natasha's house to here.

You had to get away… as far from SHIELD, as far from the Avengers, as far from her as possible. Reasons for them to be here were few and far between, there would be no random drop-ins and check-ups unless the world was ending in the South Pacific Ocean. Finally, you could relax, drop the facade, and feel the emotions you'd refused to feel since it happened. 

You screamed, you cried, and you punched the wall hard enough to give yourself another injury -- one which hurt far less though than any of the others you currently nursed, physically or mentally.

Leaving SHIELD, getting injured... they'd never been in your plan, they weren't your choices, but the move was. Leaving Natasha was your choice. It had been your choice but that doesn't mean you can't miss her, because months later you still do. 

You miss the camaraderie, the inside jokes from shared experiences and shared life; the competition that was always more serious between the students than it ever was for you and Natasha, who at the end of the day anyways returned home together. You miss your life before, but you know you can never return. 

You don't miss the time after the injury; when you were told that full recovery wouldn't be possible and that your career was over. You don't miss when Natasha, who promised to take care of you, was suddenly forced into endless press to 'maintain a positive image' for the newly formed Avengers, lest she lose her job too. And, most of all, you don't miss the dreadful pit in your stomach from when you had asked Nat, your friend, the person you had spent years of your life doing everything with, about her day. She hadn't said anything, but the tears in her eyes had said enough. Because you weren't partner SHIELD agents anymore. She would still do it all, but you were now nothing more than a civilian. She didn't say anything because she couldn't. 

You used to do everything with her, now even the knowledge is classified. Knowing her is above your clearance, so you had to go away.

»»————-　★　————-««

General Taglist: @canvascoloredin @fxckmiup @wizardofstories

[harleehazbinfics]

Learn more about you Cannibal chef! reader m.list | Author profile

Word Count: 512 A/N: Hello, lovies! Been so long since I updated. But hey! I came back to also say I graduated woohoo! Nothing permanent yet, I don't want to get your hopes up with daily updates like I used to since I'll be looking for a job now, omg. But, I'd love to hear requests from you. I honestly don't know what more I should add to Cannibal Chef!Reader. I'm out of creativity lmao. THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR HOLDING OUT THIS LONG! MWAH!

"Good morning, Miss Rosie!~"

"Y/n! Sweetheart! Here to take your order?"

"Yup!"

"Here ya go. Looks like a big order. Did something happen?"

"Unfortunately, yeah. So, Sir Alastor was in a good mood, and we went to eat at a restaurant in the circle, but the food was so inedible that Sir Alastor had to spit it out in public. Something, I've never seen him do honestly. Then after we bumped into the Vees and got into a bit of a scuffle with them. After making it back to the hotel, Sir got splashed with alcohol right in the face," you mutter, awkwardly laughing.

"Well, that's one hard day he had there. You gonna make him something then?" she asks flashing you her sharp teeth.

"Mhm! I was thinking of making hotpot or a casserole. He must be famished after such a tiring day," you smile.

You then hear the bell tower chiming then whipping your head to see the time.

"Well, that's my cue. I'll see you around Miss Rosie!" you called before leaping from building to building.

"Take care, dear!"

You arrive at Alastor's room where you hear the bathroom door close and hear the rushing water after. You nodded to yourself as you walked to the kitchen he conjured just for you and tied your hair back to prep your meal.

After leaving it on the stove with a timer on. You strolled back into the living room and picked up Alastor's drenched clothes into the laundry chute for you to deal later. Of course, not before you took his handkerchief and took a whiff of it. Eyes drawing into hearts that in delight.

Amidst your happiness, the handkerchief got tugged away and thrown into the chute along with the rest of them. Alastor stands behind you, still dripping with water from the bath. Chest bare-naked and red shorts around his waist, and his towel on top of his head as his hair stuck on his forehead.

"Come on now, if you wanted one you could have just asked, sweetheart," he says with a smirk before pinching your pouting face.

He turns away from you and sinks into his favorite chair with a drawled sigh. You compose yourself and slowly walked beside him after.

You pursed your lips and pouted, "You just don't understand the smell fresh from the source, Sir Alastor."

"Oh, believe me. I know the feeling," he chuckles, waving his hand as shadows appear under you and lifted you onto his lap. He embraces you and sniffs from your collar, as you stared at him with shaky heart filled eyes as he stares back with his half-lidded ones.

"I-I never knew you were this cheeky, Sir," you stutter under your breath nervously. Your hands on his chest while he purrs under you snuzzling closer and closer.

"There are many things you don't know yet," he mutters as he grazes your neck with his teeth then his eyes flicker from your neck to your eyes and asks, "Would you like to learn?"

"I'd love to." <3

Cannibal Chef! Reader Taglist 🍴:

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[nxuvillette]

hi celeste bby! how do we feel about professor! welt yang? bc i think he would be such a hot— i mean, good teacher! imagine you enroll in college a few years after graduating so you're a little older than most college students, a little more mature. it sets you apart from your younger classmates and he can't help but notice, yk?

❥- note : hi eliza !! forgive me if this sucks, this is my first time writing welt </3. i hope you enjoy and thank you for sending this :> !

content warnings : nsfw [17+], fem!reader, ageless + blank blogs dni, professor!welt, age gap (reader is 24 and welt is 28), semi public sex, classroom sex, creampie, use of pet names (good girl + darling), rough(ish) sex.

professor welt yang was one of the more chill professors on campus. he wasn’t very stingy about grades, and he was very close with the students who took his course.

especially, you.

welt first noticed you on the first day of class. you seemed a little older than most of the students in the lecture hall, and it turned out you were actually trying to obtain your master’s degree and had to take his course as an elective to move forward. he was used to dealing with typically eighteen or nineteen year olds who didn’t really know what they were doing, so you were kind of a perfect change to his class. you did your assignments, did very well on tests, participated regularly, and always showed up on time. he admired that a lot.

soon enough, you started sticking after class to try and prepare for his exams which were usually pretty tough. he didn’t mind giving you some tutoring. you were one of the few students who actually seemed interested in his class. it was also nice to have your company. you were much more mature than the rest of your peers, and welt really liked that.

then again, he was just your professor and you were his student. he couldn’t do such a thing.

but, you were so attractive. some days you would come to class in a skirt and it would ride up just a little to where he could see the fat of your thighs and a brief glimpse of your ass. welt would have to stop himself sometimes from taking a look at your cleavage whenever you had a tank top on. he didn’t want to cross boundaries by any means. you were somewhat near his age, but still someone who was above you. he could get in trouble!

though, today was the day that all of his self restraint went out the window.

you had stopped by at the end of the day to talk to welt about a question you had about something he taught during his lecture. somehow, the conversation had shifted to a more personal one, and you ended up sprawled out on welt’s desk with his fat cock splitting your pussy to almost its limit.

he knew he shouldn’t have been doing such a lewd act at school of all places, and with his student, but he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. not when you flashed your cunt that was hidden under your skirt with no panties on. he wanted to try and forget what he saw, but you just kept drawing him in. welt knew what you were trying to do. he wasn’t about to let the opportunity slip by either. not when the chance was absolutely perfect.

you were underneath him babbling sentences while he fucked your brains out. the papers he was grading were now discarded and some were even on the floor. the desk creaked from the sudden ruts of his hips into yours. oh, how cute. “m-mr.yang! more, more!” you whined, sounding desperate for his touch.

welt’s thumb toyed with your clit, sending bolts of electricity dancing around your stomach. he had fantasized about this moment more times than he could count. his pretty student taking his dick that was much better than the shitty college boys who didn’t know how to use their own. “you’re such a good girl, fuck..” he groaned with gritted teeth. “you like when i give you extra credit, hm?”

you responded with several nods. this was turning you on so much. you were already so close to cumming, and he could feel it. your pussy squeezed his cock like a vice and he was becoming enthralled with how amazing you felt.

“mm..! i’m close! ah.. please cum inside me, mr.yang! pump my pussy full!” you cried, rolling your nipples between your fingers.

welt practically lost his damn mind when he heard you moan such a slutty thing to him. his fingers dug into your hips, setting up a very quick speed that knocked the air out of your lungs. he was lost within you and the orgasm he had been desperately chasing for the last few minutes. “anything for you, darling..” he grunted, sweat casually trickling down his face from the heat of the room.

the two of you let out completely different noises the moment your orgasms had finally crashed onto you. thick cum spurted inside of your walls, covering them with white, and your pussy gripped welt’s cock so tightly he found himself not wanting to pull out of you.

“make sure you come by again. i have many other lessons i’d like to teach you..” he whispered.

© NXUVILLETTE ┆ all rights reserved, do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

[dg-outlaw]

Batman #148 Thoughts... or Why Jason Todd is Awesome and Batman Doesn't Deserve Him.

So... I know a lot of the discussion about this issue has been about what happens to Jason, and IYKYK. What I want to discuss are parts of the rest of the issue and why I think Jason is one of the best characters (and more than how many perceive him). *spoilers ahead*

I know many outsiders and even those in fandom look at Jason Todd or the Red Hood and think of him as the hot, angsty edge lord who isn't afraid to break Batman's one rule. He's cool and badass so you want to be like him or he's the romantic fantasy bad boy with a soft side. These things are fine, but this is often where people stop with Jason or if they dislike him the above descriptions are why.

Some people want him to be an antagonist again because villains are cool and this is where we get things like 'The Boys' because it's edgy, subversive, or some intelligent deconstruction of superheroes. Colorful and honorable superheroes like Superman or Spider-Man are boring, just a fantasy, or for kids who don't understand the real world. Again, fine if that's your take, but I don't believe that one "graduates" from one to the other.

Beyond the Fast and Furious style cool factor of fast cars, guns, and explosions that often get associated with Jason, there's more to him than that and it's why he's still one of my favorites. Hell, this is the same character that writers thought would be a priest in the Flashpoint universe, a universe that had gone to hell in a handbasket but in all that chaos and darkness he became a PRIEST.

(The World of Flashpoint: Issue #2)

Say what you will about organized religion, Christianity, or the Catholic church (because there are definitely issues there), but I think two of Jason's core traits that I admire are his faith and hope. Traits that often get Jason hurt by the people closest to him, but that often see him through the darkest times.

The cheapness of using Jason's "death" aside, these traits are seen again in Batman #148. Not only is Jason willing to put his faith in Bruce again (after everything "not" Bruce did to him in Gotham War), but he's the first down into the cave.

This isn't blind faith, but a willingness to try. A hope that maybe this time he won't be hurt, even if time and time again history has proven otherwise. Note: This can be a slippery and dangerous slope and not one without consequences as many people fall into the trap of going back into or staying in toxic relationships that only bring them pain. (And I never said his greatest strengths can't also be his greatest weaknesses).

We also see some emotional maturity and growth in this issue and I love that for Jason. Has he been going to therapy? Maybe, but my money is that he's probably been reading lots of self-help books or something.

Does Bruce deserve this level of forgiveness and compassion from Jason? No, but Jason gives it to him anyway. I also feel like this is a soft challenge from Jason. "I'm not here to save you from yourself or to ask you to save me. We do this together or not at all."

And if you're thinking, "Oh no, Jason has gone soft. Not my Jason Todd!" He's still a cheeky bastard in battle, even when he's on the ropes.

Now, for Jason's "death", one could say that it was a cheap ploy by the writer or DC to get people talking or to have a random "Jason dies" scene (though he's revived in the same issue so I feel the emotional stakes/hype are less compared to leaving it open-ended until the next issue).

One could also look at it in a cynical light given it's Jason that Bruce brings down into the cave during the flashback reveal with the secret Lazarus Kool-Aid. Did Bruce plan that knowing Jason would volunteer in some sort of reverse psychology manipulation? Was it just a random plot explanation to justify having the "Jason dies" scene? Who knows? Though I think Dick or Tim would've volunteered as well. But my focus is on the conversation.

This is another example of Jason's hope and faith, and his faith in Bruce. Bruce's plan isn't tested, though one could assume that he's done the math so to speak, but it's still Jason literally putting his life in Bruce's hands. It's also fairly clever because if Failsafe is some echo of Batman, then something in his programming probably knows about the emotional pain of Jason's initial death. So not only is "killing" going to make him glitch out, but killing Jason is probably the ultimate Failsafe glitch.

Deep down I think Jason knows how much he means to Bruce, even if Bruce is terrible at showing it sometimes. He's willing to take the risk and die, not for Bruce, but for the greater good of saving the day.

Let's also not forget that in the span of a short amount of (in-universe) time, Jason has saved the entire East Coast (end of Gotham War), Gotham City (end of The Joker: The Man Who Stopped Laughing), and is now ready to die again to stop Failsafe--all while his brain is still probably a little messed up from Gotham War.

Let this young man take a damn vacation!

Was this issue perfect? No. And I agree with others about it not being cool that Steph, Cass, and Duke got sidelined as the clean-up crew, but I do think it showed a lot of Jason's deeper character (flawed or not) and how he's more than just the edgy, sarcastic bad boy. That part of him is just the hard candy shell he's had to create to protect the gooey center that is his hope, faith, and love. After all, Damian has previously (and rightly) called him out as the "emotional one".

P.S. I know my previous post picked on Jason's Red Hood outfit at the end and I still stand by the fact that it wasn't my favorite, but seeing that it's Jorge Jimenez's art, I can forgive it. I love most of Jorge's art and would kill (not literally) to be as talented as him, but that outfit design is still a no for me. Sorry, Jorge. :(

[unlirise]

🖋️ 240603 • mon

in the absence of any sort of preparation or intent, i took the TOEIC today. just to get it over with even though im not graduating this year. i could have taken it next year instead, which would have made sense because the certifications for these exams have a validity period but it's fine. i can always retake it. otherwise, i can just go for IELTS or TOEFL. if not, well... i've been speaking english way more than i speak my native language. i'm more articulate in english, in fact.

apart from that, i got to spend time with my college friends in what could be the last few times i ever hang out with them as they head out on their own adventures as adults.

it's a shame i wouldn't be able to join them because i didn't finish my thesis on time. yet, it's not a huge loss on my part. my thesis is a passion project for me and i've expressed to my friends, my thesis adviser, my research professor, and my family that i want to give my thesis the time, care, and attention it deserves. it's not just a stepping stone to a diploma for me to hop over. it's a life lesson; an important one about how the world works and how i, as an international development student, can see where i fit in this puzzle.

that being said, i'll be cramming my presentation for my orientation tomorrow. hopefully it'll go well. i'll be orienting my research participants on what my thesis is about and how they can help to contribute and what not. hopefully i make a lot of progress and even manage to interview a few of them so that i can begin the data analysis part. in that case, i'd be ready to finish everything off by july and defend by august! it's not getting to me yet but i am excited to see all this slowly coming to a close. i can only hope for things to proceed smoothly and without trouble.

[rebelangelsims]

Yep I'm trying the Bachelorette challenge again

Introducing the prime minister's daughter Kasumi Nakamura

University Graduate with high honours

Youngest of Three siblings (two sisters and an older brother)

Loves to paint and draw in her free time

Wears contacts but rathers glasses

Loves BTS & IU

All contestants must be human (no occults this time) there are only seven spots both genders are welcome (she does lean more towards guys)

As Edith said no promises if this doesn't happen nor nothing really comes out of it but I'm gonna get busy at work from 11 June and onwards for three weeks so let's make the closing date let's say 6th July.

Can you win Kasumi Nakamura's heart?

Transcript:

Edith: Hello everyone as you guys know I'm Edith Rollins the icon on this tumblr; This is the WIP pit aka every idea the creator has comes here and this a interesting situation/idea.

Edith:So the creator has an idea and a future storyline/Plot based on the Resident Evil franchise (whether or not she can pull it off is going to be interesting) and she's been inspired by @blerdytrait's bachelorette challenge.

Edith: Yes the last time the creator tried this she ended up cancelling after losing interest and there is no promises this wont happen again but we're trying by adding me as the host to keep interest

Edith:We are accepting Seven (Lucky 7) contestants, female and male (a even amount would be nice) and please add a backstory

Edith:Now allow me to introduce you to the lovely lady you will be competing for and I hope to see you all again soon

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 43

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: Sex and violence (as always)

This one is a longer one bc I worked on it all week long. Hope y'all enjoy <3

Kidding Around

Killer helped you escape Kid's death grip in the morning so you could participate in the sunrise coffee ritual that you had established with him. It was clear that Killer was an expert after so long with Kid, switching you with a pillow that Kid then squeezed to himself. You stood on the bow with Killer, one of his arms casually around your waist. With him, silences weren't awkward. You watched together as the sun peeked over the horizon with its grapefruit-pink rays. They shifted orange then pale yellow as the dawn evolved. 

"What are your goals, Killer?"

"To make Kid king of the pirates."

"After that."

"I doubt Kid will want to stop pirating. Maybe we'll return to our hometown and turn it around. I could have a restaurant." Killer prompted, "And you?"

"I don't know anymore."

His hand squeezed your hip reassuringly. He had noticed that you stopped talking about your revenge as much and that you rarely checked your specialized log pose. He didn't think you had given up on it, just put it on the back burner. 

When the sun climbed high enough in the sky to clear the horizon, you squinted. There was a black shape. "Land ho!" You looked up to the crow's nest wondering who was up there. They weren't doing their job. You caught a glimpse of big, poofy, orange hair as Quincy darted away from the ladder, wearing just a robe, probably trying to avoid being seen before everyone woke up.

"That's odd. I thought Nu was on watch." 

"I think he had a visitor," you said with a cheeky inflection. That's cute. Quincy was with the other ginger on board, the one with the mohawk and tiny glasses. 

"Damn it. I told everyone to knock it off with that shit. They need to be alert."

"I would like to go on record to state I have never hooked up with anyone there."

"You haven't been up there with Wire then. He has a way of talking people out of their pants."

"WIRE?!"

"It's his secret talent."

"Has he....done that to you?" You bit your lip, eyeing him with curiosity. 

"Decline to comment." He headed towards the galley to start breakfast. "Come on. Everyone will be eager to eat and get off the ship."

This island was essentially neutral. There were pirates and marines alike, though the marines were few. They were probably only there to restock supplies. You smirked as you went by a group of them atop Mini's back, daring them to engage you as they stared wide-eyed at your jacket. They decided that you were simply an imitation. The real Sea Snake was dead, obviously. It would be unwise to put them down in public anyway, so you let them be. 

You had left before anyone could stop you, not that they would, but you didn’t want to be burdened with being dragged around for errands. Kid was quite disappointed when he couldn’t find you. He had gone into his workshop to see if there was anything he needed more of, and had finally noticed the small renovation you had done. He had wanted to take you with him while he did business before that, with the intention of ending up conveniently together just in time for dinner, and he wanted that even more now. Kid didn’t want to ask you on a date per se. He did want to be alone with you in a context other than the bedroom, however. You had been showing him favor lately and with the new information that you were similar to him in more ways than he thought, Kid felt more comfortable with the idea of getting close to you. Of course he didn’t like you like that. He simply thought you had potential to graduate from fuck buddy to fuck close friend.  There were a few things you wanted to purchase. First, though, you had been waiting for a chance to be in a more open area. It was very difficult to train with Mini on the ship, both because she was enormous and because you would break the ship. Plus, Mini could use a bit of exercise. Being cramped on the ship for too long wasn’t good for her. Mini walked until you were both deep in the forested part of the island, in a clearing. For several hours, until you were both out of energy, you practiced new skills and techniques. You flopped on Mini as she laid down, both taking a quick rest. 

Hunger woke you from rest. The sun was much lower than it had been when you had closed your eyes. Your nap went longer than intended. You felt very refreshed afterwards though, so you didn’t mind one bit. The two of you headed back towards the ship, Mini split off from you to return, while you kept going to find a place to eat.

Kid was in a bad mood. How hard was it to find a huge raging monster and a boar? All while he was taking care of some errands, he was keeping an eye out for you, but failed to catch a glimpse. Even when he came across the other officers, none of them had seen you either. The thought had crossed his mind that maybe you dipped on them, or worse, maybe someone had taken you. That thought bothered him more than he thought it would. Actually, the longer the day went on without finding you, the more he dwelled on it. He growled to himself, frustrated that he couldn’t shake you from his mind.

You found yourself in a dimly lit, grungy bar. Every man who initially approached you turned tail as soon as they saw your face, whether it was from your stank eye or from your scars, you didn’t know. You were leaned back with your feet kicked up on the table and a beer in your hand, somewhat tucked in the corner of the bar. You liked privacy and you liked being able to see the entire room, no need to look over your shoulder. 

The door swung open, a big red ogre behind it. He looked pissed and stomped straight to the bar. You were surprised Killer wasn’t with him, or anyone for that matter. You called a waitress over and handed her a note to deliver to him. You were going to send him a beer but the bartender put one down in front of him before he even asked. The waitress handed the slip of paper to Kid and scampered away, which was probably for the best since he whipped around angrily to see who sent the note. His eyes didn’t soften, but they did brighten when he saw that it was you. 

“What crawled up my ass?” Kid crumpled the note and threw it at you. He grabbed a chair and dropped his body into it across from you. “YER the one who crawled up my ass.” He pointed in an accusatory way.  Your eyebrow twitched up. “Me?” You looked him up and down. “If I was in your ass, you wouldn’t look so mad. I promise you that.” 

“Shut up.” Kid rolled his eyes. “I’ve been lookin for ya all day. Thought ya might have got stolen.”

“Bet you would have loved if someone took me off your hands.” You have him a questioning look. “But why? Need me for something?”

Kid reached across the table and tugged your collar. “Nah, yer mine now, girlie. They would have ta take ya from my cold, dead hands.” He grinned so big it almost split his face in two. “And that’s not happenin.” 

That made your heart quicken. You looking into his amber eyes, hiding your soft spot for him. “You still didn’t answer the question.”

”Ah, well,” Kid didn’t have a great excuse. He wasn’t going to tell you the true reason. “Was gonna see if ya wanted to spar with me.” What a dumb fuckin lame-ass excuse. Idiot! 

You shrugged. “Sure.” Weird that something as small as simply wanting to spar upset him earlier. There was definitely more behind it. 

“Really? I mean good.” He swirled the beer around in his mug.  There was a bit of an awkward silence. 

Clearing your throat, you mentioned, “I have some things to do first. Didn’t get to em today.” You tapped your fingertips on the table. “Was gonna ask Heat to come with me cuz I need more clothes and he’s good at picking outfits, but I guess you could come.” You quickly added, “If you want. Because it’s just easier that way.” The dim lighting hid the blush on your face. 

“Ha! I’m way better at picking outfits than Heat.” Kid leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms.

”Real outfits, Kid,” you warned, “Not lingerie.” 

“Yeah yeah. Real clothes. Whatever.” He waved you off, cursing you mentally for putting images of you in lingerie into his head.

You both sat and drank your beers, Kid propping his feet up on the table as well. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him stare at you a few times. What’s that about? Your ears perked up when some very drunk man was asking about how someone disabled could be a pirate, assuming they were talking about you with your missing eye. It was clear who they were talking about when he made a joke about an unarmed pirate captain.

It did tick you off when people talked about your imperfections, but fuck did it have you seeing red when you realized it was directed at Kid. You could tease him and make fun of him. You would NEVER bring his involuntary amputation into it, however. That was crossing a line. You don’t even think he heard it, judging from his lack of reaction and how he looked at you in confusion as you got up from the table. You didn’t feel like behaving tonight. There was an itch for violence that you needed to scratch. Maybe defending Kid was just an excuse to let some steam off. He certainly didn't need you to defend him.

”Wanna say that again?” You stood at the man’s table, palms resting flat against it.  The man grimaced when he saw your face. “What? You defending your cripple boyfriend? Seems about right an ugly cunt like you would be with him.” 

“It seems that you don’t know who either of us are.” You smiled at him and his companions. Anyone who had heard of Eustass Kid would know that he was far from incapable with one arm. “That’s cute. You must have been on the sea for what? Five minutes?”

The man’s companions laughed nervously as he kept up. “Bitch, if you’re not gonna take that prosthetic out and let me skull-fuck that butchered face, I would get lost.”

You reached up and pulled your log pose from your eye socket, rolling it around in your fingers. Faster than he could react, you grabbed his hair, slammed his face on the table, pulled it back up, and shoved your eye into his mouth as far back as you could push it. “Swallow it.” His eyes were wild and he clawed at the arm holding his hair. “I said SWALLOW IT.” 

He gagged and choked, holding his throat, before gasping for air. “WHAT THE FUCK?” His eyes were watery as he stared at you with bewilderment. 

“Actually, I’m gonna need that back.” You grabbed a steak knife from the table and grinned at him.

”No please…” The man was sweating, scared shitless.

“Apologize to him.” You pointed at Kid, who was still relaxed in his seat, enjoying the show. 

“I-I’m sorry, S-sir.”

”Eustass Kid,” you corrected.

The man’s eyes widened with realization, that he fucked up big time. He started to plead for his life almost immediately.

You thrusted the knife into his stomach and tore it open. “Unfortunately, I do still need that.” His hands tried to grab yours away but kept slipping from the blood. His screams were really fucking up the atmosphere of the bar. You pushed into the open wound with your hand, searching for your eye. “Skull-fuck, huh? You’re lucky I don’t have a dick or I’d fuck you right in this warm, wet hole of yours.” Your hand found what it was looking for and retrieved the small orb. Dunking it in his companion’s beer, you cleaned it off and stuck in right back where it belonged. 

His two companions, trembling and trying not to catch your eye, dragged him off, leaving a trail of blood behind. He might live. You thought about cutting his arm off since he had such nice things to say about Kid’s amputated limb, but what you did was much more satisfying and cruel. 

You felt a metallic arm pulling you into Kid’s lap. “Yer so fuckin hot when ya get like this,” Kid growled in your ear lowly.

You grabbed his beer, having finished your own, and chugged the rest of it. “This bar sucks. Let’s go somewhere else.” You trailed a finger down his exposed chest. “I feel like fucking some shit up.”

Kid’s signature laugh rang out through the bar. “Then let’s fuck some shit up.” He grabbed your chin. “How could I say no to a bonnie lass like yerself?” 

You made a fake retching noise. “Quit with that flattery bullshit.” Kid didn’t have to do any of that. If he wanted to fuck, you were down. “I’ll fuck you later.”

Kid frowned as you took his hand and dragged him out of his seat. He meant what he said. Of course, he wanted to fuck, too. Beside the point, you let Killer say nice things about you, but you didn’t take Kid seriously and that bothered him. 

You and Kid started a fight with anyone that looked at you sideways. Kid held someone still for you to beat up and you did the same for him, laughing maniacally as you did so. Alternating between knocking someone’s lights out, getting sloshed at different bars, and making out in dark corners, the two of you ended up walking to the very edge of the island. There wasn’t much else but beach here. You had no idea what time it was and no idea how you were still standing. Kid supported your weight as you walked through the sand in an incredibly unsteady gait. There was a piece of driftwood that was just big enough for you two to sit on. You leaned heavily against Kid and he put the excess fabric of his coat around your shoulders. 

For how drunk you were, Kid was impressed with how you deftly undid his belts and snuck your hand into his pants. It was known by now that arousal came as a package deal with your aggression. His thick shaft hardened quickly under your hand, happy to oblige whatever needs you had. Kid let his head fall back, enjoying the feeling of your small hand struggling to jerk him off. He let out an impatient huff when your hand started to slow, before stopping altogether. His amber eyes flicked to where your hand was limp around his cock and your head rested in his lap. “What the fuck?” That bitch fell asleep. Kid groaned. It was feeling so good too. He swallowed thickly. You clearly wanted to give him a handy, so there wasn’t anything wrong with helping you finish the job, right? He stuck his own hand down his pants and enveloped yours with his grip, tightening your hold on his cock. The feeling of doing something just a little bit wrong and in public to boot, sent a thrill right to his balls. He finished himself quickly with your hand, his pulsing cock emptying into it with a grunt. Kid snickered to himself with the thought of you waking up with your hand dried shut.

Kid had already pissed you off, not because your hand had been glued shut with his cum, which was admittedly funny, but because he had to put his two cents into every single thing you looked at. You wanted a second weapon to dual wield. You loved your gunblade and it was versatile though it still had limits. Every weapon you picked up, Kid chided you for picking something so low quality. You were deeply regretting inviting him along. You picked up a curved sword to inspect the blade.

”Shit metal. Shit craftsmanship.” Kid’s arms were folded and he looked just as annoyed as you did.

You finally stood toe to toe with him, pressing your finger to his sternum. “If you think everything in this town is shit, why don’t you make me something useful. Impress me, magnet boy.” 

“Magnet man.” Kid unfolded his arms. “Fine. I will. And it’ll be so good it’ll blow yer tits off.” He went to flick your nipple but you slapped his hand away.

After perusing possibly every weapon this town had to offer, you moved on to your next task: clothes shopping. Kid had actually picked out some tasteful outfits. He did manage to sneak a few, more risqué items in, though they were cute so you did entertain the idea of buying them. You also found a little outfit that Kid agreed Heat would be enamored with. You found a few more things, including some more bold choices, since you wouldn’t fit in without at least one pair of stupid ugly pants. You threw everything into a pile and returned with your normal clothes on. When you went to pay, the man behind the counter said that your boyfriend had already paid.

It shouldn’t piss you off but it did. “I told you to stop doing that shit.” You jabbed Kid’s side and grabbed the bag from his hands. 

“Doing what?” 

You couldn’t even say it without getting embarrassed. “You know.” You held the bag up. “The compliments and … nice gestures.” You huffed. “It’s weird. We’re not…anything.” Kid was just your fuck buddy, nothing more. No feelings were involved, or that’s what you told yourself. 

Kid knew that was true, though he thought he might want to be something to you. “Didn’t say we were. I can’t do something nice?”

”You’re Eustass Kid. You’re not nice.” 

“Whatever. Ungrateful hag.”  “Thank you. Much better.” You smiled at him.  Kid grumbled and complained for the rest of your shopping trip, eventually dragging you to a street vendor to eat since he was getting progressively more hangry. This time you paid, insisting on it to make yourself even with him. You both got some kind of saucy meat on a stick and found a tree to sit under. Kid wolfed his down in about a minute while you took a few more to finish yours. 

“What?” You said sharply, noticing Kid snickering at you.

”Yer a messy eater, ain’t ya?”

You froze as he used his thumb to wipe sauce from your cheek, popping it in his mouth. You huffed, mostly to avoid blushing. 

Kid seemed like he had something on his mind. “About the other night…”

”I won’t mention it. Don’t worry.” You knew he had a reputation to keep up.  “I was going to thank ya.”

”Oh. It’s not a big deal.” You sighed. “Listen I know what I just said, but it is refreshing to see that you’re not always a giant dickhead.”

He made a noise of acknowledgment. “We both loved her. Victoria. It was a child’s crush, but it was real enough to both of us at the time.” He had heard Killer explain some of it to you that night. 

”I never had anything like that.” 

“Would ya like to?” 

It was only human to crave affection, and you would be lying if you said you hadn't thought about it before. It would be easier not to have attachments holding you back. It may also make your life less depressing. There were pros and cons to each side. You never got far with the notion since there was no one you had been interested in on that level, or any level. 

Kid mistook your extended silence for offense. “In general. Ya know. Not … with me.” Unless she wants me like that. He let his voice trail off.

“That would complicate things.” You pulled your knees up and rested your head on them. 

“But it might be worth it.”

"Was it worth it to you?" 

Kid knew you were referring to their past with Victoria. "Aye." No matter how much it tore him up some days, he wouldn't trade it. As Killer said, you had to go through certain things to be who you were today, and Kid liked who he was and what he had in his life currently.

After dropping your bags at the ship, you walked with Kid towards the clearing that you and Mini found. A few minutes passed, filled only with the sound of chirping birds and leaves shifting against each other in the breeze. Your hands swung close enough to each other that you could feel the wind from Kid's hand. “I saw that ya missed me enough to connect our spaces again.” Kid teased. He couldn’t take the stretch of silence, not after the slightly down conversation from earlier, and he hadn’t yet gotten to mention that he noticed the change.

”Hypothetically, what if I were to say that I enjoy your company… occasionally.”

“I would say that of course ya do. Everyone enjoys me.” Kid had a smirk on his face, yet underneath, there was a big goofy grin threatening to break through ad your admission. 

“Mhm.”  “Hypothetically I enjoy starin at yer ass when yer workin,” Kid offered. 

”That’s not a hypothetical.”

The clearing was empty. It seemed as though no one else had found your spot. It felt odd to square up to Kid for a fight where you weren’t trying to kill each other for real. The agreed on rules were no use of devil fruit, but weapons were fair game. You could end the fight with one touch of your hand with your devil fruit, which is why you didn’t want to use it.

Standing across from Kid, you could appreciate his stature, broad shoulders, strong physique. He wasn’t cut like Killer was. There was a bit more meat to him, filling out his stomach in very pleasing way. You had to stop yourself from dwelling on it, or this was not going to be a fight at all. 

Kid came at you first. Normally you used your speed to dodge and land an attack in an opening. This time you blocked him. He did the same thing to your punch. It filled you with a sense of pride that you could match him in strength like this. The hits from his metal arm hurt worse. It wasn’t a conscious choice, but both of you had started by holding back, not completely willing to hurt the other. The competitiveness between you, however, quickly caused you to start putting your full weight behind everything. You could hear Kid growl as you narrowly avoided his fist, which instead splintered a tree trunk. You used the opportunity to land a kick in his side. He wheezed for a second before coming after you again. A big sweeping motion with his metal arm took you by surprise, knocking you to the ground. Using the momentum from rolling, you hopped back up in time to miss another attack from Kid. 

The taste of blood was in your mouth. It seemed he had split your lip. You licked the red liquid decorating your mouth, steeling yourself to get more serious. Pulling out your gunblade, you shot several times in seemingly random directions. It was habit not to shoot at Kid since his devil fruit could deflect bullets. Large branches from the surrounding trees fell around him in a way that made it difficult to dodge them all and forced him to remain in one space.

You followed right behind the branches, taking a running leap at Kid’s back. Before you could press your blade to his throat, he shed his feathered coat that you were holding on to, causing you to fall in an ungraceful way. You had to quickly roll to dodge Kid’s next attack. He had taken out his own gun and sent a bullet into the ground you had just occupied. 

Kicking out forcefully in Kid’s direction, you connected with his leg, destabilizing him enough that you could launch yourself from the ground to tackle him. He was quick to prevent you from getting him into a grappling hold. Kid grabbed your wrist and slammed it on the ground, forcing you to release your grip on your gunblade. In a flash he had both your wrists caught and your legs pinned under his own. Kid held his head back, knowing that your counter would be to headbutt him. 

The afternoon angle of the sun bounced orange rays from your fiery eyes, the light glistened off the thin sheen of sweat on your Y/S/C skin, and it lit your hair up like a flame, the way it was wildly strewn behind you only enchanted the effect. Kid was entranced by the heave of your chest as you caught your breath and the playfully aggressive gaze fixed on his own face. Red caught his attention, blood spilling slowly from the cut in your lip. Suddenly, he was transfixed by the crimson bead, lowering his mouth to meet yours, sucking the iron-tinged from your lower lip. A silvery thread of saliva connected you as he pulled away. He searched your face for any sign to stop and found only molten desire. 

There was a tangle of limbs, hands weaving through hair, sloppy wet kisses, and indecent sounds. Kid's weight pressed against you and his grip keeping you in place had placed impure thoughts in your mind even before he tasted the blood on your lips. That served only to add fuel to the fire burning deep within your core. Deep down you were mad about this weakness, the intense sexual chemistry you had with Kid. In this moment, you were in thrall to it, insatiably grabbing any part of him you could reach. 

A nervous clearing of the throat alerted you both to the presence of Pomp and Reck. Kid grabbed the gun he had knocked from your grasp and you pulled his from his bandolier, both sending a warning shot in their direction. 

"FUCK OFF!" You roared in unison, sending them racing off toward town.

"Can't. Get. Any. Fuckin. Privacy." He said between shoving his tongue down your throat. 

You could feel Kid's cock grinding into your thigh as he hastily ripped your pants down to your knees. You spread your thighs apart as far as the restricting fabric allowed to give Kid's hand access. His flesh fingers wasted no time finding their home in your dripping core, one after the other were inserted impatiently. The stretch as his fingers scissored your opening wider had you groaning into his mouth. Kid eagerly devoured the intoxicating noises slipping from your lips, each one causing his tip to drool. 

"Kid, I ngh-need it. Now." You panted out. 

"Yer not ready yet." 

"I don't care." You grabbed his dick through his pants. "Give it to me before I take it myself." 

Kid slipped a third finger inside, earning another sweet set of sounds from you. "Look at ya, rotten brat. Givin orders to me." He thrusted his fingers a few more times before removing them completely. 

You whined at the empty feeling. "Please." Your thighs rubbed together for friction. 

"Ya want this fat cock?" Kid freed said beast from the confines of his pants, stroking it slowly to give you a show.

You nodded vigorously, freeing your legs from your pants.

Kid pulled your soggy panties to the side, lining himself up with your slit and pushing his dripping mushroom head between your glistening folds. You wrapped your legs over his hips and pulled him inside yourself until you were completely full. Truthfully, Kid would have loved to drag this out and tease you a little more, but your wanton craving for him was really turning him on and there was no doubt someone else from the crew would come interrupt again soon. Kid's metal hand was big enough to wrap under you, holding your body in the palm while the thumb rested over your pussy. The cold metal against your clit was electrifying and you hissed through your teeth when Kid applied pressure. 

"Ya like that?" Kid moved his hand, effectively using you as a human fleshlight. "Yer gonna love this."

A cry of pleasure was ripped from your throat as Kid continued this movement, grinding his cock into your cervix, and added a low vibration with his devil fruit directly above your clit. With barely a warning, an orgasm crashed over you, making you shriek even louder. Kid narrowly held his own release back feeling the gush and pulsation of your climax. He continued to move you up and down his shaft, increasing the vibration in his thumb. The first orgasm was barely over before the second one overcame you. 

"Oh f-uck yes." You moaned. "Use m-me!" 

Kid's pace was erratic. The way your cunt gripped him with its gushy walls was enough to milk his balls dry. "That's right," Kid growled. "Yer my personal cock sleeve. Ya can't get enough of my cum can ya?"

"F-fill me up, C-Captain." You hand pressed down on the thumb of his metal hand, feebly attempting to grind your clit against the vibrations. 

Kid snickered, helping you out by increasing the pressure. Purple energy crackled around your collar as he tightened it around your neck. Your moans were raspier now, though just as needy. "That cunny of yers is suckin me in. She wants my cum so badly, aye?" 

You nodded your head, saliva pooling at the corners of your mouth, unable to swallow. Black tinged the corners of your vision. Your mouth formed a silent cry as Kid tightened your collar further, using you to get off. You twitched and trembled, a final orgasm taking you over. The tingling warmth enveloping you in a bath of endorphins. You were fully caught in your own pleasure, so much so that you missed Kid doubling over you, releasing a cry of his own as he emptied himself into you. He used your body to pump every last drop from himself. 

You gasped as he released his power, sucking fresh air into your lungs to quell your burning muscles. Kid removed himself from you and laid you down flat, pushing your legs back to admire his seed dripping from your hole. He wiped the drips with his fingers and pushed it back inside you, pulling your panties back over your cunt and giving it a pat. 

"Keep it all in, bunny, or I'll have to fill ya up again."

"Yeah? Not much of a threat is it?" You found your pants and dusted yourself off.

As soon as you had your pants on, Kid slung you over his shoulder and cracked your ass with his hand. "No talkin back."

About halfway back to town, Kid let you walk on your own two feet. "Can ya walk or are yer legs still jelly?" He kept his hands hovered above your shoulders in case you fell over.

You grabbed his coat for support. "I'm good." You thought he had picked you up to be an asshole. Was he trying to be helpful? You didn't complain this time. Your legs had been jelly. 

Kid took note of your hand moving from his coat to hold onto his arm. He let it stay. You only removed it when Heat stared at it too long, not even aware that you had still been holding onto Kid. There was an immediately coolness where his warmth had been, and the urge to keep holding him close surfaced. Kid had been thinking the same thing. He liked feeling your weight on him, feeling you rely on him. He wanted you to rely on him more and trust him with yourself.  

[taomubiji]

Happy 10 Years of DMBJ!

Ten years ago today (June 3, 2024), I finished the DMBJ novel Cavern of the Blood Zombies for the first time. So, happy ten year anniversary!

I remember I spent the next six years constantly checking for updates to see if the translations would ever continue. At the time, the fandom was so incredibly small and there was almost no one posting about it.

But in 2020, the fandom grew so big after Reunion and Ultimate Note aired and Merebear started translating the books.

It was the same year I started editing the Wiki. The photo above is from right before I started really changing stuff.

However, it was also the same year I started law school, so I wasn't able to do much. Though now that I have graduated, I've been able to work on it a lot more! Over 500 of the pages below have been aded in the last 6 months. Obviously, it's just a drop of water in a vast sea of more information needed, but I'm getting there.

Anyways, I am always so grateful for all of you posting and talking about dmbj! You guys have made the last four years so incredible.

I hope to have the honor of being in this fandom for many years to come.

[ybklix]

favorite crime

♡ bang chan

⮑ intro

⋆cw: none ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

⋆notes: narrated from fem character’s pov. fic based on 2004.

masterlist here

a/n: help, i’m not really sure how that store used to be like since I’m writing it to romanticize the early 2000’s ok

chapters one & two

ONE

word count: 816

Excluding the part about living in an insignificant town and still attending school… it’s not relevant. None of that matters or will matter once I manage to get out of here… and finally become someone else among the millions of people in the city, amidst the hustle and bustle, broken hopes, dreams hanging by a thread, and completely void happiness, just there, I’ll be there. Living, I guess. Breathing in the smoke from some neighbor’s cigarette and questioning if this is my path, since clearly the one I’m on now is not pleasing at all.

I managed to stop my thoughts for a few seconds; my mother was shouting from the bathroom, repeatedly asking me to check on a delivery the courier had just made. It was my last weekend before a new school year, and surprisingly, the weather had remained warm, so I was only wearing comfortable clothes. August had gone by, soon it would be September, and my favorite season would finally begin.

I opened the door to find an ostentatious box with the IKEA logo engraved on it. I had no idea if my mother had ordered some new furniture, so just as I was about to grab it and drag it, I realized the big mistake. The label didn’t bear any familiar name, and in fact, the address indicated the next-door neighbor’s number. Minho Lee, 143. I grimaced, unsure if I should be the one to report the mistake, or just not bother and move the box in front of his door, hoping he’d open it.

Considering, it was strange for this kind of confusion as deliveries like this always went to the reception where they would then call the owner just to make sure if it’s okay to bring it up or leave it right there downstairs.

Minho Lee… I knew they moved into the next-door apartment almost over a month ago, but honestly, I never cared to know who lived around me. I dragged the heavy box a few meters to his door and simply knocked on his door out of impulse, without hope of any response or desire to stay there to give any explanation. But the response was quicker than I thought because, as soon as I knocked, almost instantly, the neighbor appeared, dressed comfortably all in black, in shorts and a sleeveless shirt.

He had a look of confusion on his face. I remained for 3 seconds not knowing what to do until I managed to say:

“This appeared at our door, but I think it’s yours.”

The Asian-looking guy looked even more confused for about two more seconds until he managed to read that my gaze was directed towards the ground, and it wasn’t until he noticed that, his demeanor could relax. He read the name on the label and immediately thanked me.

“Yes, it’s here, thank you.”

I gave a smile with nothing else to say and headed for the doorknob of my door as I watched him out of the corner of my eye bending down to pick up his belongings. And finally, I quickly entered, realizing the ridiculous pajamas I was wearing. I closed my eyes tightly, embarrassed, as if that action could erase how uncomfortable it was for me to realize that I had a considerably attractive neighbor. His aura, his appearance… I wished to study him a little more, but really there was nothing more to say, nothing more than, here’s your box. I bit my lip wondering if I should have spoken and started a conversation with him by saying the typical nonsense like “this mistake had never happened before… the courier must be new, just like you, since when did you move…” But precisely my outfit, relaxed and messy, and my appearance… if only I had a little more luck next time, I wouldn’t think of wasting it like this.

Minho Lee looked young, like a recent college graduate, or maybe someone in their final year. As I climbed the stairs to my room, I thought about how ridiculous it was to start creating more ideas about him. Checking the clock, I smiled realizing it was my working hour and that I could leave this apartment without excuse.

After minutes, I left; grabbing my apartment keys and without saying a word to my mother, as if we didn’t have the great freedom to know or communicate our next whereabouts. Or just any kind of communication. Living with her was strange.

The building’s elevator stopped working two weeks ago and still seems to be under repair, so I hurry down the stairs until I reach the main hall, where surprisingly, I manage to recognize whose broad back was in front of me, also leaving the building, but heading in a different direction.

Part of me felt the need to follow him just out of sheer curiosity, and the fact of feeling excitement studying a new individual was… indescribable. Who is Minho Lee.

TWO

word count: 2k

My whole world sadly revolved around an idiot who never knew how to love me, care for me, and protect me the way I would have wanted. The way a sensible father would care for his only daughter. Or at least that’s what everyone reminds me every year in every damn school; always asking about my father, wondering what his next book would be about… but I can’t even speak out loud about him, sometimes I wish he were a stranger, but I have the greatest fear that… what little I know about him encompasses important concepts of who or how he really is.

I was the only daughter of a well-known artist, the acclaimed writer Henry Waldrop, whose books were such a great success that each of them —almost all of them— were adapted in Hollywood, on the big screens, with actors of the caliber of Nicole Kidman or Brad Pitt, working with promising directors like Mendes and Fincher, winners of important awards, with Henry himself writing his own scripts on a couple of occasions, nothing took him out of Los Angeles. Waldrop has been hailed as the greatest American speaking in the world of literature since Fitzgerald and Hemingway by the Times, countless interviews in the New Yorker, and among other accolades.

He has been called everything; but I will never be able to call him dad again, not since I was 7 years old.

My relationship with him is cold, distant, and almost nonexistent; I always register my name as Calliope Moore, my mother’s last name, hoping not to be recognized in this small town, however, I can’t change it at school, for the moment I can’t change it legally either; so for now, I remain hidden like this. Meanwhile, in a part-time job after school and on weekends.

I was a child who could be considered naive and sweet, at least until I was 6 years old. Then I realized many things, that my father loved fame and excess in meaningless material things more than his family, that his writing is immature and difficult to read, never matured, I never understood why I had to do it before him, unfairly, or worse, do it for him. Despite that, I became my worst enemy, I became an admirer, not of him, but of the artistic world in which he lived; my only memories with him were his huge literary collection, his love for art and cinema; he had me captive every year of my life, I spent hours sitting in his library reading instead of having a conversation with him; I chose something from his extensive collection of movies to watch on DVD. All this on his forced weekends when he legally had to see me. And worst of all, I found refuge in letters… vaguely considering myself a writer; like he is.

I know there’s the silly idea that he really cares about me just because he’s my father, that everything can be fixed if only I would talk to him… but I wish it were that simple, the reason I preferred to be locked in his office was because I saw too many things I should never have seen, situations that a loving and careful father would ensure none of his children know about, I cried seeing women enter his apartment, thinking it wasn’t the kind of love he should give to mother, I didn’t understand why my friends at school could introduce them and I just heard ‘oh, he’s something like a celebrity, he’s just busy. Maybe someday you’ll be like him.’

I sigh and look from afar at the store manager smiling at me, it’s funny to consider he has a little crush on me and I can easily manipulate him. In a matter of seconds, the loud sound of the phone interrupts my daily thoughts about complaining about life.

“Blockbus-”

“Callie, it’s Sarah, can you urgently cover for me for two hours? I have something very important at university.”

I rolled my eyes at being interrupted and at hearing my coworker’s needy voice on the other end of the line, I didn’t need details, but I was surprised by the quick passage of time, so I checked it, she arrived an hour later than agreed and I had no idea.

“All right.”

“Thank you, I owe you one, Cal.”

I slid over the counter, resting my chin on the palm of my hand, bored. Tim, the manager, who is about 8 years older than me, took care of putting on music; I really didn’t have a specific plan for this Saturday, but two more hours of time were just time.

To kill the time, I moved around here and there, sorted movies, checked boxes of new tapes, read each synopsis, sorted each genre, and finally went to tidy up a bit under the main counter; customers came in sporadically and this was the next customer I heard since an hour ago. Tim greeted them with a good evening. I assumed they had to go between the aisles of shelves to pick out their movie or movies to rent, so I didn’t pay attention to them as I continued cleaning up a bit.

Indeed, it took about 10 minutes, when I heard the plastic fall onto the cold wood of the checkout counter and a male voice say, referring to Tim, “Are you checking out over here?”

“No, um, Callie-”

Tim spoke and before he finished his sentence, I hurried to stand up, finding the guy from this morning next to me, Minho Lee. He was still dressed in black, now with jeans, he was wearing bracelets on his left hand now. For a second, I couldn’t say anything, other than meet his gaze, but I immediately regained my composure and gave him a warm smile, but I feared that this time, for him, this client, it was a genuine one.

His gaze was tender for a second as he seemed slightly surprised by the sudden way I unexpectedly ‘sprung’ from the floor; then he softened it and kept eye contact with me.

“I’m here to return these,” he spoke, dragging a stack of 3 movies “and I’ll take these” he pointed to the stack on the right.

My gaze lowered to his hands on the tapes and on the DVDs themselves. I took the products to be returned and inspected each one of them: How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, Kill Bill, A Tale of Two Sisters. I gave him a smile, clearly judging, at least it was the fun part of the job; seeing what kind of person you were based on your taste in movies. And for Minho… there was no relation, a romantic comedy, Kill Bill, just Kill Bill and… a foreign psychological horror movie, judging by its cover, it seemed to be from Asia. If I weren’t trying to convince myself that someone considerably attractive like him is single, I would say the romantic comedy is something he would watch with some romantic date without a doubt.

“Name?” I raised my eyebrows, feigning disinterest as if I hadn’t seen him a couple of hours ago.

Judging by his look, it was clear that in some way he also recognized me.

“Under the name of Minho Lee, with an H between the N and O” he replied.

This Charming Man by The Smiths started playing and I noticed a slight movement of his fingers on the table to the rhythm of the melody; all while I typed his name into the computer. I was impressed by his profile, apparently, he’s a frequent customer judging by the long list of movies. He even has a membership, wow, I had never seen him here.

“Would you like the standard two-week rental?”

He nodded. I registered the new movies to rent, not without looking at them in detail: a foreign horror movie, Korean-looking, The Wig, Dracula 2, god, I heard the movie was terrible and Scream 2. I guess he wanted to watch only one genre for the moment, no more romantic comedies.

“That will be 33 dollars… 23 with the membership discount.”

“Thank you… Calliope” he read the tag with my name on my blue vest.

The story of my name is a bit funny, my father, a man without emotional responsibility whose heart was always incapable of falling in love, had his philosophy around the Greek mythology of the 9 muses, which is ironic considering the number of lovers he had, and, from what I heard, how much he promised each of the women he got involved with, that they were his muse and inspiration. My name comes from the muse of music, as he met my mother in college and that was her career at the time. My mother’s dream was always to direct orchestras, play the cello at important events in New York… but then I was born.

It would be a nice and moving story if any of my parents appreciated each other, but my mother made sure to make it clear how much she detested him and remind me what she could have done if I had never been born.

During that time, my father was working as an apprentice to a professor and substitute professor at the university. A literary cliché that inspired one of his books, by the way. Each page of the encounters with my mother severely altered, as she exclaimed, that never happened… if only things had been like that… Anyway, the book turned into a movie and considered a classic romance of the nineties. It was funny when someone came to rent it, since for now, I work at the town’s Blockbuster.

Anyway, my father had this immature belief that since I was the one growing in my mother’s womb, I would be the greatest force and source of inspiration for her, a muse. Sometimes I suppose my mother ended up hating me. She had to raise me and support Henry in his dream as a writer. I grew up and live in the same place as him; a wealthy area in northern New York state; where my teachers, absorbed by his work, expected innate talent from me.

But the pressure isn’t always on me. I have an older brother, a half-brother, named Apollo —a bit strange considering that literature says he was married to Calliope or something like that—; who likes to be recognized as Henry Waldrop’s legitimate son, with his gallery in Manhattan; however, he’s nothing more than another pretentious wannabe from the Upper East Side.

After Minho left, I pretended to close his membership and register the returned movies, but I was just snooping around, his birthday, October 25th, he’s 10 years older than me, he really doesn’t seem like it; it must be his Asian genetics I guess. His address, registered in the same building as mine, his email, his phone, and… the record of his rentals.

Not even 10 minutes passed when the sound of the door caught my attention again, Sarah had arrived, I didn’t notice the time so I checked it, she arrived an hour later than agreed and had no idea.

Sarah came in with a smile, dropping her bag on the counter making noise as she arrived.

“I’m here.”

I quickly closed the computer information and let out a jokingly annoyed sigh at her presence.

“Well, there are only two hours left until closing.”

“Three, we close later on Saturdays.”

I rolled my eyes playfully and took off my blue vest, walking to the other side of the counter, ready to grab my things and leave.

“Is this…?” Sarah mentioned, catching my attention.

I turned to look at her and she was holding the returned movies from a few moments ago. I forgot to organize them.

“Oh, let me-”

“Oh no” she interrupted me “Kill Bill and A Tale of Two Sisters, Korean horror? Did the handsome guy already stopped by?”

I frowned.

“He just left” said Tim.

Sarah made a disappointed face.

“I guess he comes often” I said.

“Of course, every Saturday at seven during my shift.”

I stared at her, perplexed.

“He’s definitely coming to see you, Sarah” Tim added, amused.

Sarah just smiled. I let out a reluctant laugh.

“I’m leaving” I announced.

“Wait, Callie, aren’t you going to organize them…” I heard Sarah exclaim just before leaving through the door, but I decided to ignore her.

She can do it alone. Maybe Minho can come back to help her.

[pleaseeeimjustagirl]

♡Dear Diary♡

Heyyy girliesss I hope this past week was amazing for you and you accomplished alot of things<3333

♡Education♡

I start the summer semester this week and I am excited to get those credits so I can graduate right on time. The class definitely seems boring it is accounting but I decided to take what o feel is best for me. It is only three weeks so I’ll be able to push through thankfully<333

♡Mental♡

I took time this past week to push myself to get into a summer routine. I was kind of confused after the semester ended about how to get my life reorganized and fill my time with fun things and I figured it out. I have organized my week and schedule for the summer and I have 2 weeks’ worth of meet-ups and outings planned I’m super exciteddd<333

♡Physical♡

This week I noticed myself falling into bad habits that I used to do regarding food and diet and I had to call myself out and push myself to not fall back into restrictive eating and wanting to drop weight fast. I want to enjoy losing weight being able to eat what I want and doing enjoyable forms of exercise. I had to redirect my focus and I’m proud of myself for that. I restarted the pilates x weights challenge I was doing. I realized this week that I might not be into weightlifting as much as I thought I was and I didn’t want to force myself to continue to do it. But I realized I enjoyed weighted pilates I’m happy that I’m learning myself and bettering my relationship with food and movement. I will be dropping a blog post on how to improve your relationship with food and movement<3333

♡Hobbies♡

I started weighted pilates again this week and I am so happy I feel so great and happy. Exercise helps make us feel more confident and improves mental health not just physical health. I plan on going to a perfume-making class this week and I am so excitedddd. This summer I told myself I wanted to spend alone time with myself once a week on a solo date in the city. Forcing myself to go out alone is important so I can learn more about myself and the things I like. So im exciteddd and can’t wait to let you girlies know how these solo dates go<3333

Have an amazing week my lovessss and continue to affirm yourself, push yourself, and enjoy yourself you are right where you need to be in life right now and you should enjoy every bit of It love youuu girliesss<33333