#[bleach] mirror woman

[foreverbaby25]

[sorrengael]

⠀ ⠀ viii. ⠀ ⠀ violet sorrengail⠀ ⠀ ╱ ⠀ ⠀ tag drop.

[romanoffsdarling]

Summertime Sadness

Pairing: Dom!Wanda Maximoff x MILF!Reader

Summary: You hadn’t expected the summer after your divorce to be anything more than you simply getting used to being alone and drowning your sorrows in glasses of wine. The sudden homecoming of your daughter brings those plans to a screeching halt, but nothing could have prepared you for the woman that she brought along. Her best friend, the woman you’ve been hearing about in all of her phone calls home, offering you a glimpse into parts of yourself you never even knew were there. 

Word Count: 4,891

Warnings: Legal age gap, oral (R receiving), fingering (R receiving), and hints of possessiveness. 18+, Minors DNI.

Author’s Note: I’ve seen a lot of stories with Wanda being the MILF, rightfully so, but I wanted to spin it a bit and make the Reader the MILF in this instance. Hope you all enjoy! (Also, I’m so sorry for disappearing for so long, college has been absolute hell.)

You never truly comprehend how much time you waste, how much had truly slipped through your fingers, until it’s already too late to do anything about it. Until you look into the mirror and see the once youthful face marred by faint wrinkles, a sign of wisdom your best friend would tease, and hair speckled with the vaguest hint of grey. 

Twenty-five years... You had been married to your husband for twenty-five years; giving him your youth, giving him your heart and soul, and you never once imagined that he would have tossed all of that away for some floozy at his law firm. Never thought that you’d look down at your left hand and not see the delicate gold band situated on your ring finger. Of course, even now, you didn’t regret marrying him-- for it had given you the house you lived in now, the friends that had flocked to your side when the news of his infidelity spread through the neighborhood, and it gave you your darling daughter. Even if she was not yours by blood, you couldn’t imagine anyone housing the same space in your heart like your beautiful Natasha did. 

All you did regret was being stupid enough to trust him so much. For putting your faith, and your dreams, in his clearly incapable hands. It had hurt, and still does hurt, but it wasn’t because you had lost him-- your marriage, in truth, had been dead for years-- but for all the time you had lost in chasing smoke and mirrors; in staying for something that should have been let go of long ago. You hated him for what he did, for getting caught with his pants down in between his secretary’s thighs, but you hated him even more for not being man enough to simply let you go, to give up the fight when it had already been lost after his first thirty seconds with his new whore, and it’s for that reason that you were currently scrubbing every inch of his old office clean. 

You wanted to get rid of any reminder of him-- both in your home and in your mind. 

The smell of bleach and lemon disinfectant surrounds you, but you had long grown used to the cloying scent. Dark oak floors, and the matching desk, gleamed underneath the antique lighting of the room; it had been a long time since they had been given the proper care they needed. It seems that I have more in common with inanimate objects that I thought, you muse, a sense of bittersweet irony strewn within the thought. 

Settling back on your haunches, a sigh escapes your lips, and you roll your shoulders, wanting to relieve the tension that had been slowly building up for the past couple of hours. “I’m not getting any younger,” you mutter, tossing the damp rag to the side. “I just hope everything will get a bit easier.” 

Even to yourself you knew that was asking for a miracle. 

Before you could delve down into that specific line of thought, you faintly hear the sound of the front door being opened and the familiar sound of jangling keys with the slightly deadpan calling of ‘mom’ permeates the usual silence. The sound, although not unwelcome in the slightest, causes a small frown to furrow your brow all the same. 

“Natasha?” You call back, already making your way towards the living room, sure that your confusion rung clearly within your tone. An expression that only grows that much more pronounced when you’re met with the shimmering gaze of your daughter; tousled red hair cut short, falling to just above her shoulders, and her usual penchant of wearing darker colors being tantamount. “What are you doing home, sweetheart? I wasn’t expecting you for another month.” 

Her lips twist in a wry smile. “Are you not happy to see me, mother?” She tilts her head, faux hurt making an appearance. “I thought you’d be glad to see me.”

You gently swat her arm, before pulling her into a tight hug. “Of course, I’m happy to see you, Natasha,” you murmur, your lips briefly brush across her cheek before you disentangle from her completely. “I just know how you value your independence too.”

“I knew that you were alone in the house, mom,” she replies, a shrug calmly following her words. “I didn’t want you to wallow in self-pity while that fucker I call a father gets his rocks off with someone half his age across town.” 

“Language, Natasha,” you gently chide, well aware your daughter was in her early twenties now and didn’t need to be reprimanded for it. “You know that your father still loves you dearly, and I believe he’s excited to see you whenever you get around to going to his new house.” 

Jade eyes roll so hard you’re almost concerned about them getting stuck. “He should have thought about that before he stuck his tongue down someone else’s throat.” Natasha’s lips press into a line, clearly agitated, but she takes a deep breath through her nose and forcibly calms herself down. “But I’m not here to talk about him. I’m here to spend time with you.” 

Sudden movement from behind Natasha causes your reply to catch in your throat when you finally focus on the woman standing behind your daughter. Whose presence you were completely astonished you hadn’t noticed before, especially given how electrifying it felt to have her emerald eyes honed directly on you, but your gentle smile doesn’t fall away; even if you do feel it twitch slightly due to your surprise. Your hand, that was near enough to your daughter’s forearm, clenches around it in a silent reprimand, but you try your best to keep the pleasant tone to your voice. 

“I see that my daughter didn’t think it best to introduce her guest first.” You gently pinch Natasha once before stepping closer to the unknown woman in your home. “I apologize for not noticing you sooner.” 

The woman smirks, the light emerald of her eyes shifting to tantalizing jade as she observes you. “It’s quite alright,” she replies, her voice a husky whisper that’s enveloped in an accent you couldn’t pinpoint the origin of. “I’m not surprised that Nat was too focused on her mother to remember me.” 

Subtext is etched into every inch of that statement, but you didn’t have time to even try to sift through it before your daughter’s teasing voice cuts through. 

“It’s not my fault my mother is more interesting than you, Wanda.” She slides past you to stand beside the now smiling woman. “You just need to learn to get on her level.”

Wanda’s gaze shifts from your daughter to you once more-- the barest hint of her earlier smirk returning. “I don’t know, Nat,” she teases, amusement, mixed with something else you couldn’t put a name to, laced within her words. “I think I quite like my view from where I’m at.”

Your daughter, once again, rolls her eyes skyward but her easygoing smile doesn’t leave her lips. “Mom.” She turns back to you and gestures towards Wanda. “This is Wanda Maximoff, I’ve talked about her a bit when I’ve called home.” 

The name finally clicks into place within your head. Memories of your daughter’s exasperated voice, filled with hints of fondness, come forth from the recesses of your mind. All of the stories, all of the thinly veiled jokes, that your daughter had shared with you, and the clear warmth that she felt for the other woman, brings a fond smile to your lips. An expression that causes various emotions to flicker across Wanda’s face for the briefest of moments before it smooths over. 

“So, you’re the one my daughter kept talking about?” You couldn’t keep the genuine amusement out of your tone if you tried. “Her best friend?”

Wanda arches a brow. “I’m your best friend, Nat?” She playfully places her hands to her heart. “I’m honored that you think so highly of me.” 

You can tell your daughter just barely refrains from rolling her eyes. Not even bothering to deign Wanda’s teasing words with a response, Natasha turns back to you. “Can we go put our things away, mom?” She rolls her shoulders, and, for the first time, you notice how tired she looked. Of course, it was over a four-hour drive from your house in Westview to her college in Ithaca. 

“Of course, sweetheart,” you soothed. “I’m just going to finish up some work down here and then I’ll get started on dinner, okay?”

Natasha smiles. “You’re the best, mom.” 

Your heart flutters at her words, a simple compliment to most, but one that you’ve desperately needed in the last few months. Knowing that you may start crying at any moment if you tried to speak, you wave your daughter towards the stairs and step back towards the hallway to continue your work in the office. But, before you could a throat clearing behind you causes you to turn back around-- only to be met by beautiful emerald eyes that seemed to encompass you in a bubble you didn’t know if you wanted to escape from. 

“Is everything alright, Wanda?” Your gaze quickly flicks over her body: from the black skinny jeans with holes, to the simple red leather jacket, and the casually tousled way her dark auburn hair fell over her shoulders. “Did you need something?” 

Pale pink lips quirk for a moment, before a genuine look of something passes over Wanda’s face once more. “I don’t need anything.” She shakes her head, a low chuckle escapes her, but you weren’t quite sure what was so funny. “I just wanted to thank you for letting me stay here with Natasha. Especially since it was clear you didn’t know I was coming in the first place.” 

“It’s not a problem, Wanda,” you reply, a smile of your own playing across your lips. “I’m glad that I won’t be alone in this house for however long you both decide to stay. It definitely beats what I was going to do.”

“What were you going to do?” 

You shrug. “Just wallow around and get drunk off of some wine.”

Wanda considers you for a moment, emerald eyes cast in shadow. “I’m not so sure about the wallowing, but I’d love to have a glass of wine with you sometime.” 

“Oh.” You’re surprised by the simplicity in which Wanda makes the offer. None of Natasha’s previous friends, or best friends, had ever bothered, or seemed that keen, to spend time with you. Not that you’d ever fault them for doing so. Who would want to spend time with the parents of their best friend? “I’m sure you’ll have much more interesting things to do, Wanda.” 

A smile, much softer than the one’s she had shown you before, plays at the corners of her lips. “I’m not so sure about that, but the offer still stands regardless.” She looks over her shoulder when the call of her name from Natasha’s room spears through the house, an almost disgruntled look etching itself across her face because of it. “I think it’ll be fun to get to know the woman that raised Nat. Her stories of you haven’t done you justice in the slightest.” 

You’re not able to reply before Natasha’s annoyed voice from the upper-level calls Wanda towards the stairs, clearly impatient with how long her friend was taking. Conversation over then, you think, taking a small step back, towards the direction of the kitchen. The action elicits the smallest of frowns from Wanda, an expression that is there and gone before you could even blink, and you offer her one last wave before heading further into your house, vaguely aware that you didn’t hear the telltale signs of footsteps on your stairs until you rounded the corner. 

The following week passes quickly, and you easily grow used to having Natasha back home-- Wanda slipping in seamlessly throughout it all. It was nice to have some company in the large house, even if Natasha did tend to disappear to reconnect with friends she had left behind once she went off to New York and left Westview behind, but knowing that your daughter was there, and would continue to be, if you needed her soothed you in a way that you hadn’t even known you needed. 

Wanda, despite Natasha’s persistent pestering, seemed to enjoy spending her time lounging around the house, citing that she didn’t know anyone in Westview and didn’t plan on getting chummy with the locals, offering her help whenever she saw you doing something, with an ever present look in her eyes that you still couldn’t place. Although you didn’t exactly mind spending time with the younger woman, her perception of the world was enlightening, along with your shared interests in various topics that had never seem to intrigue anyone else except you-- until now, of course. 

You could feel yourself getting close to her, closer than you’ve allowed yourself to be in a long time. Not since college, you muse, taking a small sip of the chilled wine that Wanda had just brought you. Finally deciding, with Natasha going out for friend’s birthday party, that it’d the perfect time to finally share that glass of wine. You didn’t bother trying to argue with her, not when she looked so earnest in her request. 

Wanda settles next to you, causing you to shift your position, pressing your back into the arm rest, in order to be able to look at her. Emerald eyes were glued onto you, a smile playing on the edges of her lips, before she shifts into a comfortable position of her own. 

“So,” you begin, setting down your wine on the coffee table. “What are you planning on doing once you graduate college? Any idea on where you’d like to end up?” 

“I’ve always loved the idea of being a Producer, being the magic behind the scenes if you will,” Wanda replies, a charming grin catching her lips. “And, yes, I do believe there’s a place that’s caught my eye on where I’d like to end up.” 

You arch a brow. “Really?” 

Wanda simply hums in response, a spark of mischief dancing within her gaze-- a look that you had long since grown used to. It’s clear that she wasn’t going to answer you, not that you truly expected her to, after all what college kid has plans on where they’d like to end up? Ideas, perhaps, but nothing concrete as most go where the wind takes them. 

“Well,” you continue, a soft smile pulling at your lips. “I’m glad that you have everything figured out. I definitely envy you for that?” 

The younger woman’s brow furrows at that, bottom lip disappearing behind pearly white teeth. “Why do you say that?” Emerald eyes flit over the immaculate expanse of your house, one that you had strived hard to maintain through the years. “I think you’re definitely a few steps ahead of me in that department.” 

“I wouldn’t say that.” You wave the pseudo-compliment away. “All of what I have isn’t what I originally dreamed of, or wished for, myself, but when certain cards are laid out in front of you.” Trailing off, you run a singular look over the now empty expanse of your ring finger. “You either fold or raise, I wasn’t willing to do the latter. Not when it had so many other consequences attached to it.” 

“What would you wish for then?” 

You shift your focus back to Wanda, confusion etched across your face. “What?” 

She waves a hand. “You said that all of this isn’t what you originally wished for yourself.” Wanda shrugs. “What is then? What would you wish for?” 

“I wish I could find someone that’d treat me in the way he never did, that’d show me what love truly is, and make me forget about all that he’s put me through,” you sigh, taking another sip of your wine. “Of course, with my age, I don’t think that’s really in the cards for me anymore.” 

Wanda scoffs. “I don’t think that’s true. I think there are quite a few people that’d love to be with you.”

Something tells you, maybe some deeper part, a more sensible part, of your brain, that you shouldn’t continue forward with this conversation, that you should take her words as the compliment they are, but another, more needy part of your brain, one that desperately needs to feel some form of validation after so long, doesn’t want to in the slightest. 

Rolling your shoulders, you level Wanda with a look. “Really?” She hums in confirmation. “And who might those people be?”

“Me.” 

If it wasn’t for your back being wedged against the armrest of your catch, you’re fairly certain you would have reared back completely at the calm nonchalance in which she gave you the answer. “Y-You can’t be serious Wanda.” You shake your head, not believing at all what you were hearing. “I’m over a decade older than you.” 

She tilts her head. “So?” A salacious smirk tugs her lips upward. “I think that makes you even hotter.”

“You--” You huff out a breath. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Wanda. I think I’m going to get you some water because you’ve obviously had quite a bit to drink already.” 

But, before you’re able to even push up from the couch, Wanda’s hand grabs your wrist and tugs you closer. Noses almost smashing together, you’re only able to keep yourself steady by grabbing ahold of Wanda’s shoulder with your free hand. “I know exactly what I’m talking about,” she hisses, warm breath ghosting across your face. “I’ve wanted you from the first time I saw you on Nat’s phone and it only grew the moment I saw you in person.” Her hand lightly traces down your face, almost reverently. “You’re the most beautiful woman that I’ve ever seen. No one could ever compare to you in my eyes.”

The sweets words, coupled by the earnest expression etched across her youthful face, causes your willpower to begin to falter. How long has it been since someone looked at you like that? Spoke to you in such a manner? Have you ever had that? The thought makes something twist within your gut. 

“You’re my daughter’s best friend,” you begin, trying to force some semblance of reality into this situation. Trying to make yourself see reason before you did what this was no doubt leading to. “We can’t do this, Wanda.” 

“We can do whatever the hell we want. We’re both adults, I’m not some child.” She tugs you closer, nuzzling her nose against yours. “And what I want to do is kiss you the way you’re supposed to be kissed.” 

A hitch in your breathing gives Wanda all the information she needs, and seals your fate completely, but, even with that go ahead, at the clear sign that you wanted her as much as she clearly wanted you, her lips still descended onto yours at a snail’s pace, giving you the opportunity to pull away. 

You didn’t want to. 

Didn’t want to have this moment be ruined by what could potentially come after. For the first time, in what felt like forever, you were going to put what you desired, what you wanted, before everything else. So, when Wanda’s lips finally did meet your own, and you’re able to faintly taste the cherry chap-stick she seemed so fond of, you give your all to the embrace. Mouth easily opening to her questing tongue, a small moan escaping from deep within your chest at the feel of it entangling with your own, and Wanda seems to press even closer. 

At this point you’re not even sure where you begin and Wanda ends, being pressed so closely together as you are. All you do know is that you never want this to end, never want to go a moment without Wanda’s warm hands trailing down your body, slender fingers digging slightly into your sides to pull you tightly against her, never want to be without the feelings she invokes within your chest-- the butterflies she causes within your stomach. 

With a small snarl, Wanda rips her mouth from yours, making you just barely stifle the noise of disappointment the action causes within you, but the darkened emerald eyes leveled with your own renders you temporarily mute. Wanda’s chest heaving in her effort to get enough air, but she doesn’t once stop running her hands down your body-- seemingly not being able to get enough of touching you. 

“I want to see you,” Wanda growls, hands gripping the material of your flimsy shirt and quickly pulling it over your head. Darkened green eyes taking in each inch of flesh that’s been revealed to her-- on any other circumstance you’d be mortified by the fervor in which she was looking at you, but underneath all that hunger, you could see a sense of awe, a spark of reverence, as if you had just made a wish of hers come true. “You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.” Her head dips, pressing a hot kiss against your neck, tongue soothing the place her teeth had dug in. “I’m going to worship you, baby, I’m going to make everyone else before me feel obsolete.”

Your back arches on its own volition, pressing yourself further into the heated touch of the hand trailing down your abdomen. Burning kisses, that feel like they’d send the raging inferno coursing through your veins absolutely haywire, following the path her fingers had just traced-- sharp canines delicately nipping the flesh of your navel before her tongue sweeps over the flesh to soothe the mark that she had undoubtedly left behind. You’re barely aware of when Wanda had been capable of tugging your sweatpants down your leg, along with your panties, before tossing them in a random direction behind her, but you’re definitely honed in on the moment her tongue, that had just done such sinful things to your chest and stomach, made contact with the apex of your thighs. 

A breathy whine escapes you then, the feeling of Wanda’s tongue lapping at the wetness beginning to escape you, little hungry mewls escaping her throat, as if you were the most appetizing thing she had ever tasted, brings a whole new high to your pleasure-- something you had never felt before. Digging your fingers through her hair, tugging at the long strands to pull her impossibly closer, you’re rewarded by a breathy snarl, Wanda’s lips latching onto your clit and sucking it into her warm mouth-- slender fingers taking up residence where her tongue had just been, entering you hard and fast. Not giving you even a moment to get used to the new feelings before she’s pounding into you, the slender digits curling up just right to brush the spot within you. 

The sounds of your wetness, of the sloshing noises that Wanda’s fingers made every time she pulled out, would have normally made you embarrassed, and it probably would have, if Wanda hadn’t made sure to maintain eye contact with you throughout it all. Emerald eyes, blown almost black with lust, keenly observing every minute expression that flits across your face, tongue lashing across your clit in the precise moment that you needed her to, fingers scissoring inside of you the moment you felt your high coming that much closer. The simple fact that she already seemed to know your body so well, that she could already read your face, in a way that your ex-husband never could, makes the need to have her closer almost like a drug coursing through your veins. 

With the fingers still tangled in her hair, you tug her upwards. Seeming almost hesitant to leave, Wanda follows your wordless command after another thorough swipe of her tongue, her mouth latching onto your own the moment she’s within reach. And, the heady mix of yourself and something that’s inherently Wanda, fogs your brain, but you still have half the mind to wrap your arms around her back, arching more fully into her body-- needing to feel connected to her in some way. Moreso than you already were. 

Ripping her mouth away from your own, when air becomes a necessity, Wanda groans. “You’re doing so good for me, baby.” Nimble fingers are quickly accompanied by a third. “Taking my fingers so well. Fuck you’re so tight for me, aren’t you?” 

You nod, a soundless scream escaping. The stretch, the feeling of being so full, and the warmth of Wanda’s breath across your ear, a combination you never knew you needed until now. The cliff, that you hadn’t been able to achieve by yourself, and rarely ever with your ex-husband, seems to be getting closer and closer; you were more than excited to finally take the plunge. 

“That’s right, baby,” Wanda coos, thrusting harder into you. “Just feel my fingers in your perfect cunt. He never fucked you like this, huh? Never treated with the roughness you’ve obviously wanted?”

Something in her voice, in the darkened tone, tells you that this line of questioning wouldn’t be as rhetorical as the first. “N-No--” A sharp whine is pulled from your lips. “Only you. Only you’ve fucked me the way I’ve wanted.”

A sharp grin pulls at Wanda’s lips, her free hand gripping your hip in a possessive hold. “And I’m only ever going to be the one to do it from this point forward.” Her head dips, teeth digging into the sensitive flesh right beneath your pulse point. “Isn’t that right, baby?” 

“Yes!” Your back arches, your incoming orgasm nearly blinding you. “I-I’m so close. I-I can’t--” 

Wanda rolls her hips, shushing you gently. “It’s alright, baby. You’ve done so good for me. Be my good girl and cum for me.”

At her command your body finally releases the final coil that had been prepared to spring forward, as if it had been waiting for her words all along, and a keening cry passes your lips-- Wanda-- as your world is whitened by your pleasure. Only vaguely aware of Wanda’s lips pressing repeatedly against your cheek, her fingers gently guiding you through. 

When you come down from your high, from the toe-curling pleasure that she had given you, and your vision clears enough for you to see Wanda, still hovering over you, with that same look of reverence on her face from before, you couldn’t help the almost shy smile that appears. Something that causes Wanda to dip forward to place a chaste kiss against the smile, so tender from the hungry ones that she had bestowed on you only a moment before. 

“How the fuck could he ever leave someone like you?” It’s said in a low voice, one that you don’t think you were supposed to her, but her clear confusion fills you with warmth, nonetheless. Emerald eyes raise to meet your own gaze, softness suffused within it. “Will you give me that honor, baby? The honor of making you forget.” 

Your earlier words, said in a mournful whisper, come back to you instantly: I wish I could find someone that’d treat me in the way he never did, that’d show me what love truly is, and make me forget about all that he’s put me through. 

“I’m over a decade older than you, Wanda,” you rebuke. “Why the hell would you want to be with someone like me?” 

Her brow furrows. “Why wouldn’t I?” She lowers herself, finally pressing her body against yours, allowing you to feel the warmth of her skin, she places another gentle kiss to your lips. “You’re the only woman that’s ever made me feel like this. I don’t give a damn how old you are, I don’t give a damn if Natasha has an issue with it, I’ll talk to her, all I care about is that I get to have you like this again. That I get to love you in the way that you deserve to be.” Emerald eyes sharpen, her grip on your body tightening. “In a way that only I could ever give you.” 

Your eyes flutter shut at her words, something you’ve been wanting to hear for so long. Could you actually take this plunge? Allow yourself to take such a huge risk? Potentially cause a crisis with your daughter and Westview at large? What if it didn’t work out? 

What if it did? The gentle voice of your conscience counters. What if this is your chance at finally being happy? At finally finding the one person you’ve been searching for? Are you really going to let that pass you by? 

You didn’t know how this was going to turn out, how any of this would end up snowballing into years down the line, but as your eyes open and you peer into emerald green, a color that had enchanted you since you first looked upon it, you know your answer instantly-- have known it for longer than the question even being posed. 

“Yes.” 

Wanda’s answering smile, bright with her happiness, is all you see before she descends onto your mouth again, clearly wanting to show you everything that you’d now be experiencing from this point on. 

[kooktrash]

romantic dreams | jeon jungkook [teaser]

summary: he’s always dreamt of finding his soulmate in some romantic way, bells ringing, birds chirping, maybe even a shine of light over their head. he never imagined to find them living next door to him with absolutely no clue to the extent of the growing infatuation he has toward you until it’s a little too late. hypnotized by your entire existence he finds his dreams and delusions of love to be a little too intense for anyone to bear.

➣ genre/au: yandere jungkook x reader [she/her, female anatomy], neighbors au, smut, angst

STORY POSTED

➣ 1.4k words

warnings: yandere. smut. jk is obsessed and a stalker. toxic. manipulation. gaslighting. he’s a gym rat who listens to deftones, nirvana, korn, pierce the veil, etc. he watches y/n through cameras. delusional jk. he’s intimidating and a huge asshole to everyone but y/n—like genuinely not a good person lol but he has nipple piercings and a six pack. goth jk. calvin klein jk. y/n is strong minded and a bit cruel at times. dom/sub/switch themes but not intense. rough, passionate sëx. mornings to come. no dubcon/noncon, fully consensual

song inspo: tempest — deftones, and i love her — kurt cobain, blvd. nights — team sleep, new magic wand — tyler, the creator [highly recommend listening so you can get what kind of character Jungkook is]

jungkook’s moodboard | y/n’s moodboard

There was a quickening pace to his heart. Sweat dripped down his forehead that he wiped away with his forearm as he looked at his friend through the mirrored wall. Just behind them he had a clear view of some woman looking at them. His friend noticed her too, “She’s had her eye on you for a while now.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything as he switched with Namjoon and laid down. Namjoon made sure to spot him as he began to bench press, muscles bulging with each set he did.

“I’m serious, man, and she’s hot,” Namjoon looked behind him to catch the girl running on the treadmill as her gaze shifted shyly at being caught. He was getting a little pissed that his friend does not care that he’s being eye fucked at the gym.

This was just like Jungkook too, he never showed any sign of interest in anything. He always had a bored expression on his face like he was waiting for something worth his while to happen. Namjoon’s learned to get over it because if Jungkook didn’t like hanging out with him then they wouldn’t be friends. Jungkook isn’t the type to waste his breath reassuring things like that and he definitely does not waste his time thinking of someone.

If Namjoon got half as many women checking him out as Jungkook does, he would find a girlfriend in no time—but no, he has to stand to aside and watch his friend pay absolutely no attention to any woman who expressed even the slightest hint of interest in him. Maybe he has to applaud Jungkook for this, he seems to have standards and sticks to them because in their years long friendship he’s only met one of his girlfriend’s before. He was extremely private about his sex life too so they never shared any locker room talk and Namjoon has just learned that’s how he is.

“Should we do one more?” Jungkook asked as he placed the dumbbell back into its holders and sat up panting. He looked behind him just slightly and caught sight of the bleached blond on the treadmill. She hasn’t taken his eyes off since she got here and it’s really starting to piss him off.

“Sure,” Namjoon said, switching Jungkook, “I don’t get how you seem to just ignore every woman who looks at you.”

Jungkook looked down at him as Namjoon caught a good grip on the dumbbell, “I wouldn’t disrespect the person I’m seeing by entertaining someone else.”

Namjoon nearly dropped the dumbbell on himself as he jumped up to a sitting position and looked at his friend dumbfounded, “You’re seeing someone?”

That made the corners of Jungkook’s lips turn upward and he tried to bite back a smile, his dimples still showed. Namjoon was no longer sitting and it seemed like the end of their workout so he began to clean the equipment. Jungkook cleared his throat, “Sort of.”

Wordlessly, they began to leave toward the locker room and Jungkook walked right past the blond without sparing her a single glance. He smiled, “Y/n.”

“Huh?” Namjoon asked, “Is that who you’re sort of seeing?”

“Mhm,” Jungkook nodded with a smile that had Namjoon surprised. He very rarely sees this much emotion from Jungkook and compared to his usual cool exterior, this was a bit unsettling. The two went straight for their lockers as they took their gym bags out and got ready to leave. Namjoon cleared his throat, “Do you have a picture? I need a visual of who this person is.”

It was just so sudden after he had these thoughts of how Jungkook showed absolutely no interest in anyone and kept his sex life extremely private. Namjoon always thought it was just because he was a womanizer and didn’t feel like bragging about all the women he’s seeing. It is just surprising that all of a sudden Jungkook would show so much emotion bringing someone up.

Jungkook didn’t give him an answer aside from fishing his phone out of his pocket and immediately showing him his lock screen. Namjoon looked at the picture clearly.

“Wow,” Namjoon said with, “Now I see why you don’t bat an eye at anyone else.”

It was a good candid photo of you, like you didn’t even know it was being taken of you. You were sitting outside having dinner and it was a perfect snapshot of your smile. You were looking at something off camera but Namjoon did have to admit that you were very attractive.

He missed the way Jungkook’s eyes darkened the longer Namjoon looked at your picture and decided to lock his phone and put it away, “Ready?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon said as he grabbed his car keys while Jungkook grabbed his and his helmet, “So why haven’t I met this Y/n, yet?”

Jungkook wasn’t smiling anymore but Namjoon couldn’t see it as he walked behind him, “You know I like things kept private.”

“I mean yeah but… I don’t know, you’ve never brought her up before. When did you start seeing her?” Namjoon asked just trying to have a casual conversation with Jungkook before they split up.

“I said sort of.”

“What?”

“Earlier you asked me if I was seeing Y/n and I said sort of,” Jungkook said with a tightened smile, “No need to bring anyone around yet.”

Namjoon didn’t have a chance to say much after that, Jungkook got on his motorcycle and left with a little wave. This felt like news of the century, Jungkook very rarely smiles the way he smiled when he first brought you up.

Who were you exactly?

You took a deep breath as you unlocked your front door and walked into a pitch black apartment. The light flickered on behind you and a small fluff curled around legs the second you were inside.

“Armani!” Your friend said with a soft gasp as he bent down to pick up the gray Siberian feline. Your cat let Taehyung pick him up and walk him around your living room as you put your things away.

“Looks like your neighbor’s home,” Taehyung pointed out as he stood near the window of your apartment. Armani hopped out of his arms and onto his scratching post where he usually lounged in for naps. “You think he watches you sleep?”

“Shut up,” you told him with a roll of your eyes, “Do you want a drink?”

“Soju?” Taehyung asked with a cheeky grin before looking back to the window, “And you know I’m joking… I’m just saying though, he always has his curtains drawn and sometimes I catch him looking over here.”

“All that’s telling me is that I need to stop inviting you over,” you said as you grabbed a bottle of Soju and a bowl of chips. You couldn’t help but look out your window.

Your neighbor was an attractive man. He had a sleeve of tattoos and a broad chest, a six pack and… nipple piercings. It’s not you’re a creep or anything but he likes to lounge around his living room and bedroom without a shirt on and his curtains open. Sometimes he would step out of the shower with only a tattoo around his small waist as he looked for clothes in his bedroom and you would have to immediately close your curtains so you weren’t a peeping Tom.

He moved in a few weeks ago and since then you’ve found yourself battling over the fact that you’ll never attract a man as gorgeous as him no matter what Taehyung says. Since the beginning Taehyung has believed that your neighbor seems to have a liking toward you.

Your best friend is over at your place more often than not and he’s noticed some things. For instance, the day he moved in Taehyung was over and like the nosy neighbor you were, the two of you stared out the window and watched him unload boxes. Taehyung swears he saw a look in your neighbor’s eyes that immediately disappeared when he saw he was there too.

Then, there was that time when you were having dinner with your friends. Taehyung pointed out seeing your neighbor and how close he was sitting outside and you just brushed it off. He lives in your neighborhood now, that means he mostly frequented the same restaurants as you. He also notes every time your neighbor seems to glance out the window toward your place but you don’t think anything of it. These apartments have poor lighting and the only way you get natural light is by having the windows open. In truth, Taehyung has watched way too many true crime documentaries and has gotten a bit paranoid.

“Whatever,” Taehyung sighed, “I’m just saying, it wouldn’t hurt you to give him a little show and see if you’ll get laid.”

::.

okok im in the mood for a somewhat yandere Jk bc im still obsessed with his calvin klein shoot. idk this probs isn’t everyone’s cup of tea but it’s mine so 🤭

RELEASE DATE TO BE DETERMINED

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[goodgirl4daddy4evr]

Hypnotized lesbian sucks Priest off before her wedding

Tw: religious abuse. Are you gay? Have you been told you're going to hell for being gay? Does that trigger you?

I was given this prompt by @kingofobsidian 🥵

I was getting ready for my big day. I wasn't sure it would ever come. Or include me in a dress, marrying another woman in a dress, in her family's church. Her parents took her to a very open and affirming church that my soon to be wife felt safe coming out in when she was a teenager and now felt joy to return to so we could celebrate our love. I hadn't been to church in a while but we'd been doing counseling with the priest in preparation for marriage. He was so nice, I really felt like I could be open with him about my fears and insecurities. It helped us talk about them as a couple. We each would have our own recordings to listen to about marriage and the commitment we were making. I would always zone out listening though so I'm not sure how helpful they really were. My finance felt the same.

I was in the recreational area bathroom when I asked my maid of honor and friends to give me some time alone to reflect. My strapless dress was not staying up over my titties that well, we had to use some tape and I was fiddling with it when I noticed it in the mirror again. I'm startled out my headspace of frustration at my chest's incompatibility with strapless tops when there's a knock at the bathroom door. "Hello, Becki? It's Father Tom. I just wanted to check in on you. May I come in?"

I look at myself in the mirror, my bleached blonde hair half up, and share a confused look with myself before turning towards the door. Father Tom looked like he always did, all in black with his white collar poking out. Now that I think about, I don't remember if he has to change too. He smiles and chuckles, looking at my chest.

"Oh Becki, your dress is a little lopsided."

"Ugh, is it really that noticeable?" I turn back to the mirror and inspect the dress while I notice my worried look. Father Tom comes up behind me and I don't notice he's reaching out to touch me until he is. I look up in the mirror to see him tower above me and his hands on my shoulders. His eyes are starting at my titties in the mirror.

As if his stares could cause it, the tape finally unstuck on one side and most of my left titty popped out.

"Oh my God!" I cover my nipple. I look at him. I turn around. "Oh my- my- ah I'm sorry Father! I'm sorry I just- I'm just sorry!"

His hands came to lay on my back now and he's smiling again. "Oh Becki, sweet girl, you have nothing to apologize for." He looks into my eyes very intensely while mine are searching his face for an answer as to why.

"Remember, Becki? Remember?"

And that's when I drop my hand. I do remember. I look into Father Tom's eyes. They look so deep.

"Don't you remember, Becki? From your recordings? You know what marriage between two women is about don't you? Don't you remember, Becki?"

"It's about serving cocks together. It's when lesbians become a package deal for superior men. Women can't satisfy each other's needs. Only cock can."

"Ohh yes, you do remember, Becki."

That's when I feel myself pushed to the floor on my knees looking up at the first man I would ever service. In my wedding dress. Waiting for him to marry me to another woman.

He's unbuckling his belt as he speaks. "Now Becki, this will be just your first taste of cock. You'll be coming back every week for your sacrament, Becki, I want you to remember." His thumb rubs on my lower lip. "Now Becki, remember those recordings? I want you to think back to what they said, Becki."

"Start slow first. Lick all up and down. The wetter the better. Suck on the head. Suck on the balls. Use your hands. Open your throat."

He pets my hair before taking out his cock. I can't believe it. It's so much bigger than I thought they could be! It's like big tits! Big cocks only exist in porn! But I have big tits. Oh my god, do regular men have big cocks?

"Becki, remember..."

Father Tom moves his cock closer to my face I can't stop staring at it, it's so beautiful and I want it in my mouth so bad. I wanna suck and slobber all over it and suck his cum out so he put it all over my tits. I bounce and grind as I move forward and grab the base of his cock to lick all over his cock and get him nice and wet for my mouth.

"Oh! Becki I'm so glad your training took. I'll have to talk to your new wife after I marry you. Make sure her training took as well. You're both so beautiful. Made for taking cock. To marry you both would be sin if I did not claim you for my own. You thoughtless women denying your purposes. You should be grateful that I've saved your souls. I'm going to bless you with my holy seed and you'll need to receive this sacrament daily."

I look up with my big eyes, "Thank you, Father." and I take him in my mouth. I suck on the tip of his cock with my hand rubbing the base. I swirl my tongue around his head, tracing the part right where the head meets the shaft. When he puts his hand on the back of my head I suck him deeper. And deeper. And then my hand doesn't fit. I bob my head sucking from as close to the base as I can get to the bottom on the head and up and down and up and down. And hold. And up and down and up and down and up down. And hold.

It's when I start to juggle his balls that he grabs my head with two hands and begins to thrust in earnest. I finally understand what facefucking is. He's just using my mouth. Using my mouth to cum. He thrusts and thrusts and slows down and rolls his hips and thrusts and thrusts. Both my titties have fallen out of my dress and drool is dripping onto them from my mouth. My eyes are starting to water and it's starting to hurt. I'm making all these noises choking on his cock, looking up at him. He's staring at me.

"Look at me, Becki, look at me. Look at the man that has saved you. You will be blessed! Ohhh I'm putting it on your tits! I'm putting it on your tits!"

He lets go and I cough and gasp and catch my breath and look at him as he rubs his cock and lines up his cock head in the middle of my cleavage.

"In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, take your daily blessing, and may it cleanse you."

He unloaded his milky gooey white cream all over my flushed red titties. Spurt after spurt came out, more than I thought was supposed to happen. After he finished milking his cock I held up my titties to show off to him and he put his cock between my titties and rubbed his cum around.

"Ohh Becki, my child, I'm so glad I saved your soul for the Kingdom of Heaven."

He takes a step back and pulls out his phone from his pocket. I'm a little dazed when I hear the camera sound.

He chuckles "Now we can clean you up for your bride. Let's fix that dress."

[bunnyywritings]

lazy morning with the salary man & honey bunny

NANAMI KENTO x F!READER

[a/n: day 1 of my b-day special event is here! i apologize if it’s a bit underwhelming…i feel like I’m still getting a hold of writing smut so i really hope this is okay!! i proofread like a billion times so I hope there are no spelling mistakes or whatever…also just a huge PSA for these fics, i am very much a mid/plus size woman who goes to the gym daily, when i use the term “little” it in no way refers to body type or size of anything, it’s more like a condescending/degradation thing…so yeah <3]

© bunnyywritings pls don't use my headers or writing without permission

wc: 3.3k words

warnings: somnophilia, cuddle-fucking, thigh job, mirror sex, cow girl…y’all it’s basically porn with no plot, no use of y/n, reader’s screen name is bunny (sorry not sorry), reader is also called: sweetheart, love, good girl, honey, baby

You had woken up early to get your room set up how you wanted so you two could just jump into it and as soon as you heard the knock on your door, it made you extra giddy. He would’ve found it amusing to see you tripping yourself up just to let him in the door.

And once you did, oh boy…the sight had you shifting from leg to leg, attempting to be subtle about squeezing your thighs together.

Kento was usually a put together guy. Handsome, well coordinated suits for work. Loose trousers and a button up, no tie when he was attempting to be more casual, even an occasional t-shirt and jeans to be really casual but you’ve never seen him this dressed down. A mouthwatering pair of gray sweat shorts and a deep green pullover that had a few bleach stains and looked well worn.

He hadn’t even noticed your lack of greeting because he was too busy running his eyes up and down your body. He was used to seeing your different get ups for your account and just casually as friends. He’s seen you in costumes, in your casual clothes, lingerie, cute silky pajamas but this, this was different. You were barefaced, wearing an oversized t-shirt that had a few stains you could never get out, boxers you wore as sleep shorts, and cute bunny slippers that a fan had sent you.

“Hi sweetheart…” He muttered, finally catching the blush on your cheeks and the dazed look in your eye.

“H-Hi Ken, c-come in.” You took a deep breath as he walked past, his cologne lingering as you shut the door. “D’you want anything to drink?”

“I’m okay, thank you.” You nodded, nervously biting the inside of your cheek as you approached him, having to tilt your head back a bit to get a good look. “So did you have a script or anything for me?”

You opened your mouth to respond but you stuttered when he gripped your chin, thumb caressing just below your bottom lip. “U-hm uh script? N-No, I thought w-we’d improvise…I hope that’s okay?”

His honeyed eyes softened, shifting between yours before he dipped down and delicately pressed his lips against yours, “That’s alright with me, show me where you want me.” His voice vibrated against your plush skin, the ticklish feeling making you squirm the slightest bit.

As the cameras rolled, you and Kento were snuggled up together underneath your pink duvet, legs tangled together with one thrown over hips. He was shifting around, eyes fluttering open as he “woke up.” A sleepy groan rumbled from his chest as he started to press featherlight kisses to every patch of exposed skin he could reach.

“My sweet bunny…” He mused, sighing wistfully. Peeling back the duvet, he gently removed your leg from where it was draped and positioned your legs wide enough to fit himself in between them and then doing so, his hands planting themselves by your temples for stability but before he could continue, your eyes snapped open. A sharp pain through your scalp makes you yelp in discomfort.

“Ow! Ah, Ken! My hair!” You laughed in disbelief as his face contorted in a quick panic before realizing that he was, in fact, trapping your hair under his palm.

“Oh! Sorry, sorry…”He chuckled in matching disbelief, moving his hand so you could shift over, moving your hair out of his way. “M’sorry love.” Your lashes fluttered bashfully as he pecked your nose. “Close your eyes, you’re supposed to be asleep.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He continued again. Kissing from your neck, down your torso and lifting your shirt. He breathed a subtle laugh at the way your muscles twitched as his breath grazed your skin before pressing a kiss just below your naval.

Your resolve was running thin. How could you possibly continue to pretend to be asleep with his teasing? Ever the observant one, he could see how your squirming became a lot more noticeable.

Cheekily placing another kiss to your sensitive skin before finally pulling off your shorts a little roughly, your cue.

“Kento?” You sleepily murmured, hand blindly reaching out and pushing his soft, blonde locks from his forehead. His heart swelled, you were so sweet. So intoxicating. So lovely. And just for today, you were his. All his.

“Good morning sweetheart…” Finally pulling your shorts off, his breath hitched when he was met with the sight of your wet folds unobscured by any pesky fabric. “So naughty, hmm?” He teased. “Going to bed with no panties.”

He pushed your legs further apart, cupping underneath your thighs to hold them steady and spreading you open with his thumbs. “So pretty.”

What had caught you off guard was him leaning forward and inhaling your scent. A startled moan leaving you when his nose met your aching clit. He just chuckled and licked a bold stripe up your slit. “Just relax for me.”

You wanted to laugh. Relax? When his lips were wrapped around your pulsing clit, sucking messily. Impossible. “Oh my-” You choked out a whine at the spine-tingling sensation, his tongue flattening as he began to move his head side to side.

As much of a put together gentleman he liked to portray, Kento was a messy eater. The wet, squelching noises were almost too much for you. Your cheeks turning an embarrassing red at the lewdness of it all.

Kento could feel how you attempted to squirm away, your quiet and desperate cries stroking his pride. Your entrance was clenching around nothing and your throbbing heat was enough for him to realize that you were quickly reaching your high. Your knees met in an attempt to snap your legs shut at the overwhelming pleasure but his broad shoulders and firm grip was enough to keep them open. “You gonna cum for me, bunny?”

“Yes! Yes Ken…p-please! I’m gonna-” You were desperately grinding against his tongue.

And before the coil could snap, he pulled himself away with a vulgar pop!

Your heart dropped in disappointment, a displeased whine leaving your throat. Once again, he spread your lips with his thumbs mesmerized by your sticky cunt. He could just imagine how easily you’d suck him in, your warm and wet walls accommodating his length but he was frustratingly patient.

He looked up at you and smiled at your clear disappointment, a prominent pout pulling your lips down. He sat up on his heels, gripping the edge of your t-shirt and pulling it off of you. “Mmm so pretty…” He whispered, almost to himself, his hands gripping your waist and running across your warm skin. Despite this having been a planned affair, you still seemed so sleepy. So soft and pliant underneath him, it made his heart race. “So soft, all for me. Hmm?”

The reverence in his voice and his touch made you extra bashful. Your stomach doing somersaults as you looked away from his burning gaze. He took a moment to admire you, your breaths became heavier with anticipation, the wonderfully red hue of your cheeks and the tips of your ears, the way your hips squirmed, desperate for him. For his touch. He cooed as a small gasp left your lips, one of his hands cupping your breast. The pad of his thumb grazing over the pert nipple. He kissed beneath your jaw and gave your nipple a teasing pinch before stepping off the bed.

You sat up slightly and watched as he peeled his sweatshirt off, mouth watering once he kicked off his shorts and boxers. His cock on full display against his lower abdomen, tip a pretty pink and leaking precum. “Lay on your side for me, bunny.” He could almost laugh at how distracted you were as his hand gripped the base of his shaft before stroking up and down a few times, thumb twisting over his sensitive head. “Come on, be a good girl for me. Lay on your side.” The slightly firmer tone he had taken was enough to shake you from your stupor. Doing what you're told and laying on your side, your eyes widened when you were met with both the camera and your full length mirror.

You watched him climb back into the bed right behind you, his body warm against your back. “Scoot back just a little bit, honey.” His breath tickled the shell of your ear as his left arm wrapped around your midsection to help you shift backwards so your skin was flush with his. His other arm snug beneath your head.

Both your eyes met through the mirror. “Hi.” He smiled gently as you shyly echoed the sentiment back, mirth filled his eyes as he skimmed his hand down your stomach and to your thigh, your muscles jumping beneath your skin. You bit your lip as you watched his fingertips tease your inner thigh, edging closer to where you wanted his touch the most before moving back to your thigh.

“Please, Kento…” You begged so prettily, he yearned to pull more from you.

“Patience, bunny. Patience.” He tutted, finally gripping your thigh and prying your legs apart. “Keep that leg up, f’me…” He muttered, reaching between the two of you and taking a hold of his throbbing cock, hissing at his own touch. You were making him so unbelievably aroused, his will was starting to wear thin.

You were starting to become impatient, your interrupted climax from before wasn’t helping the feeling of desperation. He tapped his weeping tip against your clit, the wet plap! and the weight of him was enough to make you dizzy. He let his length rest against your wet cunt as he cupped the backside of your knee to keep your leg up. “All wet just for me…” He rutted his hips against you, a groan leaving his lips as he started a steady pace, just rubbing against you. The back and forth against your clit was enough to make your jaw drop in a silent scream. “My sweet bunny, who’s pretty cunt is this? Hmm?”

“Y-Yours! Oh my god- s’all yours Ken! Feels so good…”

“Maybe I should just do this, hmm? Make you cum without even properly fucking you.” He increased his pace steadily, your bed creaking quietly with the force of his movements.

“No! No Kento, please! Please I want- ahh!” The pleasure was clouding your mind as he started to glide so smoothly against you.

“What do you want? What does my whiny baby want?”

“F-fuck! I wan…want you to fuck m-me Ken! Please, need your cock!”

He chuckled darkly against your neck, “Since you asked so nicely…cum and I’ll give you what you want. Come on, be a good girl and cum.” He dropped your leg, a choked moan leaving his throat as you instinctively squeezed your thighs shut. His breathing got heavier and heavier, breathy moans steadily leaving him, your plush thighs and the wet heat that he was rutting into was slowly making his brain melt.

“You feel so good baby, fuuuck! You’re gonna make me cum…so warm and-and wet, shit- love this pussy.” He could feel your thighs twitch, the steady pulse between your legs giving you away. “Come on, cum for me…” His command was followed by just that, whines leaving you as you started to grind against him, your release making you slide back easier.

“Give me your cum, please Ken…please, please, please-” He felt the coil snap as you started to babble incoherently, stilling with a final thrust as he shot thick, white ropes against your skin. The sticky feeling between your legs was intoxicating as you slumped against him completely, breaths heavy.

Kento’s hips twitched, causing him to rut against you involuntarily. “You want to keep going?” He muttered against your glistening skin.

He was still painfully hard and wanted nothing more than to bury himself in you but he would end the scene then and there if you threw in the towel.

You lifted your leg once more, watching strings of your mixed releases drip from your thighs through the mirror. Kento twitched against you, his cock basically jumping in excitement as you reached down and pressed his head tight against your overstimulated clit, grinding against his sweltering member.

“Put it in, honey. Take what’s yours.”

You didn’t need to be told twice as you shifted yourself a bit higher to line him up with your pulsing entrance. He was in a trance as he watched his reflection, eyebrows furrowing as he watched his length disappear, your walls snug around him. “S-So big, shit!” You cried, eyes snapping shut.

He was so thick, filling you up and stretching you so deliciously.

“M’not even all the way in, bunny.”

He wasn’t a cocky man by any means but if there was one thing he was highly prideful of, it’s definitely how well endowed he is.

You glanced at where the two of you connected to find that he wasn’t joking. He already felt like he was in your stomach…but he was only about half way sheathed. Taking full advantage of your distraction, Kento pulled out til just his tip was being clutched by your entrance before forcefully thrusting the rest of his length into you. He watched as your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure, mouth falling into a cute o shape. “There we go.” He hummed, palm pressing down against your lower stomach, the sensation making your eyes roll back. “Feel that, m’right there. So deep…” He groaned, starting a slow and steady pace.

Quiet whimpers and moans left your throat as he rutted into you, eyes falling shut as you let yourself be consumed by pleasure.

Kento couldn’t help but think about how domestic this scene was turning out to be. Not that he minded one bit, but still. He took your lead and let himself be swallowed by the pleasure that was making his spine tingle.

Enjoying how wet and warm you were. The sun gently filtering into your room, the quiet creaking of your bed frame and your sweet noises were enough to want to lull him into sleep.

“F-fuck, Kento…m’so full a-and warm. You're making me sleepy…”

He breathily chuckled. “Yeah, would you like that? Want me to fuck you back to sleep, hmm? Use your pretty cunt while you dream?”

A particularly pitchy moan left you as you clenched down around him, his words making you so much more wet. Pussy squelching quietly between your thighs. “Mhmm, I’d let you do whatever you wanted to. Let you cum inside me, fill me up as many times as you want.”

“You spoil me, honey…fuck.”

He slid his palm down in between your clenched thighs and pressed his middle and ring fingers against your pulsing and puffy clit. The touch making your hips grind against his fingers, effectively fucking yourself back against his cock as well.

“I can’t…I’m cumming-hah ahh!” He felt your release as you twitched against him, his fingers rubbing gently circles into your bud to help you ride it out.

“Mmm that’s a good girl, ride my fingers…that’s it.” He hummed, pulling his hand from it’s place and bringing them to your lips. Watching the mirror through lidded eyes as you took them into your mouth and lazily suckled them. “Lift your leg, show off how messy my pussy is. All messy and wet for me.” You moaned against his fingers, doing as he said and lifting your leg. Pulling his fingers from your lips with a pop and pulling himself out of you.

He shifted you so he could pull his arm from underneath your head and moved to a kneeling position. He hooked your leg over his opposite shoulder, so it was diagonal across his chest as he lined himself back up.

You looked so ethereal, splayed out before him. Your beautiful breasts on full display, skin flushed, and a dazed look on your eyes. “Such a pretty girl.” He muttered, not missing the way you preened at his compliment. Watching the way your face screwed up in pleasure and struggling to keep his eyes from snapping shut when he pushed himself back into your sinful walls.

Now that his hand was free, you reached out, tenderly lacing your fingers in between his. Holding on as his slow, deep thrusts drove you to ecstasy. “Feel so good, honey…f-fuck. M’not gonna last long.”

“Please cum, cum inside me…” You whimpered. “Please Kento, cum with me.”

How could he say no to that?

So, with one hand still holding your leg against him and the other holding your hand, he continued to fuck into you. Steadily increasing his pace and absolutely loving watching you fall apart on him. Once you started to pulse around him and your hips started to twitch, he clenched his jaw. Holding his tongue as words that should not be said threatened to spill.

“Oh my god, I’m cumming! I-I’m-”

“Fucking hell…me too, I-” He groaned, stilling as he spilled everything he had into you. Balls tightening as he squeezed out every last drop.

You felt him shift and you panicked, squeezing his hand. “Don’t pull out…please?” He smiled softly at your earnestness, carefully placing your leg back down.

“Of course…” He did his best to keep himself buried in your core, laying back down and holding you close.

“Wanna take a nap like this…” You yawned.

“Okay then, that’s what we’ll do.” He was softening inside you, eyes falling shut as your warmth lulled him to sleep.

About twenty minutes later, Kento awoke as an intense pleasure racked his body. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and was met with the sight of your ass bouncing on his cock, leaning on his knees for support.

“Hah what a needy thing, so desperate for my cock that you couldn’t even wait for me to wake up.” His deep, sleep filled voice had your pussy wet.

“F-finally, you’re up-” You whimpered, not even halting your movements.

“Gonna make yourself cum already?” He teased, one hand kneading the flesh of your ass.

“Mhmm…so- m’so sensitive! Fucked me so ah! so good, Ken!” Your movements faltered, back arching as you came with a hoarse cry. He admired your body as you sat on his dick, shaking as you came down from your high.

He opened his mouth but was quickly cut off as you lifted yourself up and dropped back down onto him. “W-wait…fuck!” His toes curled at how sensitive he was, broken whimpers leaving him as you continued your, surprisingly, relentless pace. The noises coming from his throat was enough to push through the intense burning of your thighs.

“Hah bunny! You’re cunt’s squeezing me so- fuck- so damn tight! Feel fucking amazing, shit!” He gasped. “Cumming…m’gonna cum…ngh fuck me! Fuck!”

His broken whines and the overstimulation had you cumming one more time, Kento following right behind you, his thighs quivering as he weakly spurted the rest of his release into you.

Catching his breath, he sat up and pulled you into his chest. Gently pulling his cock out of you with a hiss.

Your entire body felt like jello.

He pulled you down onto the bed with him, pulling the duvet over the both of you and cradling your head into the crook of his neck. “Did so good f’me…” He whispered, placing messy kisses to your cheek, down your neck and to your shoulder. A smile pulling at his lips as your tired giggles vibrated against his skin.

“Thank you.” You pressed a few kisses to his collarbone.

His cheeks turned an embarrassing shade of pink. “Anything for you…”

subscribers:

@seireiteihellbutterfly @xxstarlightxx @indieburn

[j23r23]

Getaway Heart

Tangerine x Reader - angst & fluff

Warnings: blood & vomit

You’ve been a getaway driver since you got your license at 18, maneuvering through the streets with audacity and precision that caught the eye of all the right, and wrong, people. For the past ten years, you worked alone in the shadows, carving out a reputation as the go-to driver for high-stake jobs.

On a rainy evening, the twins handler, a no-nonsense woman with a penchant for dark sunglasses and cryptic instructions, invited you to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Madrid. The place smelled of oil and rubber. There she introduced you to the two men known only by their code names: Tangerine and Lemon. They were looking for a reliable driver, and their handler thought you fit the bill. You knew the Fruits were renowned in the industry for being very good at what they do but were slightly unhinged.

Tangerine was the first to step forward. He was tall and lean, with a sharp jawline and piercing blue eyes that seemed to dissect you with a single glance. Dressed in an impeccably tailored suit that contrasted starkly with the grime of the warehouse, he exuded an air of sophistication and control. His voice was smooth, almost velvety, “So, you’re the driver everyone’s talking about,” he said, his tone carrying a mix of skepticism and curiosity.

Lemon, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. Shorter and more muscular, he had a rugged look about him, with bleached hair and an unpredictable glare. His attire was casual— black jeans and a denim jacket—giving off a more approachable vibe. In his hand, he toyed with a small sticker book, flicking it absentmindedly as he watched you.

The initial meeting didn’t go smoothly. Tangerine’s aloof demeanor and Lemon’s staring put you on edge. Tangerine scrutinized your every word and movement, as if searching for a weakness, while Lemon tested your patience with his relentless talk about trains.

“Look, love” Tangerine finally said, crossing his arms, “we don’t have time for screw-ups. We need someone who can handle the heat and think on their feet. Can you do that?”

You met his gaze, your jaw set in determination. “I’ve been doing this long enough to know that hesitation can get you killed. I can handle the heat. Question is, can you keep up? Oh, and the names Orange, love.”

There was a moment of silence before Lemon burst into laughter. “I like this one,” he said, clapping Tangerine on the shoulder. “Got some fire in her.”

Tangerine’s lips curled into a faint smile, the first sign of approval. “Alright Orange,” he said. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The memory made you grin.

Right after meeting the twins you had your first job together and it was utter chaos—shit hit the fan, sirens blaring, guns a blazing and the scent of burnt rubber hanging heavy in the air. You were behind the wheel, the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you navigated the streets of Madrid with precision.

"Tangerine, we've got company!" Lemon's tone was annoyed.

Tangerine, cool and collected, leaned out of the window, firing off shots with deadly accuracy. "I can see that, Lemon! Im not blind!"

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, as the banter between the twins was getting on your nerves. "Would you two save the chatter for later? I'm trying to concentrate here!"

Lemon laughed. "Relax, Orange, we've got this under control."

You just sighed in annoyance and literally put your foot down, pushing the pedal to the metal.

Tangerine, sitting in the seat behind you, clung to the door handle, as hes being pushed back by the force of the speeding car. "Bloody hell, Orange? " he shouted, his voice a mix of panic and irritation.

Lemon, in the backseat, looked even worse. His face was pale, and he was gripping the headrest in front of him for dear life. "For the love of all that's holy, slow down!”

You smirked, your eyes darting between the road and the rearview mirror. "Relax, boys. Let me do my job and i let you do yours" you said, narrowly missing a pedestrian who decided now was the perfect time to jaywalk.

"Relax? Relax?!" Tangerine's voice went up an octave. "We’ve got the entire Mafia of Madrid after us, how in hell am i supposed to work when you’re driving like a maniac!"

You took a sharp turn, the tires screeching in protest. The car tilted dangerously, but you managed to keep it from flipping. Lemon made a sound that was somewhere between a whimper and a growl. "If we die, I’m haunting your ass!"

"Hold on to something!" you yelled, spotting a narrow alleyway ahead. Without hesitation, you swerved into it, the car barely fitting between the buildings. The side mirrors scraped against the brick walls, sending sparks flying.

Tangerine’s knuckles were white from gripping the door handle. "Jesus Christ, woman!"

You chuckled, adrenaline pumping through your veins. "I got hired for my driving skills, remember?"

Lemon let out a strangled laugh. "Skills? More like suicidal tendencies!"

As you burst out of the alley and back onto a busy street, a car tried to cut you off. With a quick flick of the wheel, you sideswiped it, sending it crashing into a parked truck. "One down, a few dozen to go," you quipped, glancing at your handiwork in the mirror.

"Just keep us in one piece!" Tangerine barked, looking both impressed and terrified.

You sped towards an upcoming construction site, an idea forming in your mind. "Hold tight," you warned, accelerating even more.

"Oh hell no!" Lemon groaned, clearly dreading your next move.

You aimed for a ramp leading up to a half-built overpass. As the car launched into the air, all three of you screamed—though in your case, it was more of a whoop of excitement. The car soared over the gap, landing with a bone-jarring thud on the other side. The cars that are chasing you weren’t so lucky; the first few smashed into the gap, creating a massive pileup.

Tangerine looked at you with wide eyes, his breath coming in short gasps. "You’re absolutely mad, you know that?"

Lemon, still clutching the headrest, nodded fervently. "Completely off your rocker."

You gave them a cheeky grin. "But i got rid of them, no?"

As the car sped away from the chaos behind, Tangerines eyes still held a hint of disbelief. "You’re a bloody lunatic!"

Lemon slumped back in his seat, finally letting go of the headrest. "Next time, I’m driving."

You laughed, the thrill of the chase still coursing through you. "Sure."

After a few more sharp turns you finally pull into a secluded garage. You killed the engine, the sudden silence almost deafening after the chaos.

"You two okay back there?" you had asked, trying to suppress a smirk.

Lemon had groaned, his face pale as a sheet. "I think I'm gonna be sick, now that we stopped," he had mumbled, clutching his stomach.

Tangerine had shot him a glare before leaning out of the window, retching onto the pavement. "Yeah, and somehow we made it out alive!” he had grumbled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

You turn in your seat looking at the boys smiling. Tangerine shook his head, laughing despite himself. “But remind me never to question your driving skills again.”

“Deal” you replied with a grin.

After that night, the three of you went through countless jobs together, facing danger with unwavering trust in one another. As time passed, your feelings toward Tangerine began to change. Working alongside him, it became increasingly difficult to ignore the way your heart fluttered whenever he flashed a rare smile or the way your pulse quickened at his touch.

The more jobs you pulled, the deeper your affection for him grew, and the harder it became to suppress your emotions.

And now, something feels off. As you sit in the driver's seat of your idling car, the engine's purr does little to calm your anxious nerves. The night is heavy with tension, the rearview mirror becoming your only solace. You glance back repeatedly, your mind racing through every possible outcome of tonight's job.

Tonight's mission was supposed to be a straightforward smash and grab. The target: a high-end jewelry store fronting as a money laundering operation for one of the city's major crime syndicates in London. Intelligence indicated minimal security—just a couple of guards, easily neutralized. Tangerine and Lemon were tasked with infiltrating, grabbing the goods, and getting out before anyone noticed. Simple, clean, efficient.

You were parked in the back alley of the building, engine running, ready for the signal. The minutes stretched on, each one feeling like an hour. Something gnawed at your gut, a premonition that things weren't going according to plan. You'd run through every escape route, every contingency, but no amount of planning could shake the unease that had settled over you.

The longer you waited, the more your thoughts drifted back to Tangerine. His smile, his confidence, the way he always seemed to know what to say to calm you down. You remember the first time he took a bullet for you. He had laughed it off, calling you a softie for worrying. That was Tangerine—fearless, almost reckless, but with a heart that beat fiercely for those he cared about.

You trusted them both with your life, but tonight, that trust felt more like a lifeline, taut and fraying with each passing second.

The rearview mirror offers no new insights, just the darkened street and the distant sounds of the city. You grip the steering wheel tighter. You can almost hear Tangerine’s voice, telling you to stay calm, to trust the plan. But the plan is starting to feel like a distant memory, overshadowed by a growing fear that this time, things won’t go as smoothly as they always have.

And then, like a thunderclap, the back door of the building bursts open.

Suddenly, Lemon charges through the back door of the building, supporting a hunched over Tangerine. It's clear that this simple job has gone terribly wrong. As they stagger closer, you see the blood—Tangerine is losing a lot of it. You reverse the car and drive towards them. Lemon yanks open the back door, practically shoving Tangerine inside before he climbs in himself.

"Go, go, go!" Lemon shouts, urgency in his voice.

You change immediately into first and slam the gas pedal to the floor, the tires screeching as the car lurches forward. The doors are barely closed, but you don’t have time to worry about that. In the rearview mirror, you see Lemon struggling to put pressure on one of Tangerines wounds, while the latter squirms in pain.

"What the fuck happened?" you demand, weaving through traffic with precision.

"Tangerine underestimated the Job, didn't wear his west and got shot," Lemon replies, his voice strained. Tangerine just groans, clearly in too much pain to speak.

"You didn't wear your fucking west?" you scoff, your hands gripping the wheel tightly. "You always chastise us when we're not wearing one, what the fuck were you thinking!"

"Yeah, well," Tangerine mutters in pain, "we all make mistakes."

You maneuver through the city's maze-like streets, dodging late-night traffic and running red lights. The city's neon lights cast eerie reflections inside the car, illuminating the tense scene. The smell of blood fills the air, and you can hear Tangerine's labored breathing from the back seat.

"You better not die on me, Tangerine," you say, your voice tight with a mixture of fear and anger. "I’m not dealing with your expensive funeral."

Tangerine tries to laugh, but it turns into a pained groan. "Always… so considerate," he manages to say between gasps.

"Save your strength, mate," Lemon says, pressing another wad of cloth against Tangerine's bleeding abdomen. "We need you to stay awake."

The car roars down a narrow alleyway, the tires barely gripping the slick pavement as you take a sharp turn. You can feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating. Every second counts, and the safehouse feels a million miles away.

"I swear, if we make it out of this alive, you're going to owe me one pristine car cleaning," you assert firmly, your voice tinged with worry.

"Deal," Tangerine replies, his eyes closing. Lemon looks at you through the rearview mirror "Just get us there in one piece."

You weave through the final stretch of city streets, your knuckles white on the steering wheel. The safehouse looms ahead, a nondescript building that has become your haven in times of crisis. You screech to a halt after driving into the garage, the car barely stopping before you pull the handbrake.

"Help me get him inside," Lemon says, rushing out and opening the back door. Together, you and Lemon half-carry, half-drag Tangerine towards the entrance, his blood leaving a grim trail behind you.

"Hang on, Tan," you whisper, your voice breaking despite your best efforts to stay calm. "We're almost there."

Inside the safehouse, the familiar surroundings offer little comfort. You clear the kitchen table with a sweep of your arm, sending everything crashing to the floor.

"Lay him down here," you instruct. "I need to see how bad it is."

Tangerine's eyes flutter open, and he looks up at you with a weak smile. "You always did know how to make things dramatic, love" he jokes, his voice barely a whisper.

"Shut up," you say, your throat tight. "Just let me fix you up."

As you rip open his shirt, revealing the extent of his injuries, the reality of the situation hits you like a punch to the gut. Four bullet wounds, two in his left shoulder one in his right arm and the worst is stuck in the right side of his abdomen.

This isn't just another job gone wrong. This is a fight for survival. And in this moment, all you can think about is keeping Tangerine alive.

"You ruined my Burberry suit," Tangerine complains weakly, attempting a half-hearted smirk.

"I said, shut up," you snap, your voice tight with worry. Your hands move quickly, working to stop the bleeding. Tears blur your vision, but you force yourself to focus, ignoring the emotional storm brewing inside you.

Lemon stands by, trying to keep pressure on the wounds. He looks at you, concern etched on his face. "You alright?" he asks, noticing your tears.

You nod, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on your shoulders. Each bullet you extract from Tangerine's flesh elicits an excruciating scream from him that reverberates through the room and it slices through you like a knife. But you steel yourself against the anguish, focusing solely on the task at hand. With each bullet removed, Tangerine's body relaxes a fraction, but his agony remains palpable.

Exhaustion settles over him like a heavy shroud, and he slumps back, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. You work quickly, stitching him up as best you can with trembling hands, the urgency of the situation lending you a sense of clarity.

Once Tangerine is bandaged and relatively stable, you turn your attention to the smaller cuts and abrasions littering his body. With gentle care, you clean away the blood, your movements deliberate and precise as you tend to his wounds.

When you finally finish, you look to Lemon, concern etched into your features. "You got any injuries?" you ask, your voice laced with worry.

He shakes his head, his gaze unwavering as he grabs a blanket and pillow, arranging them to make Tangerine's makeshift bed on the kitchen table a little more comfortable.

You look at your blood covered hands and your mind starts to race,

The reality of the situation sinking in. Despite your years of experience you can't shake the feeling of helplessness that washes over you. You've faced danger countless times before, but this time feels different.

As you turn to wash the blood away in the sink, Lemon appears at your side. His eyes hold a depth of understanding that cuts through the turmoil in your soul.

"Not exactly the night we planned, huh?" Lemon tries to joke, but his voice wavers.

"Yeah…" you reply, forcing a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes.

"You love him, don't you?" Lemon's voice breaks the silence, gentle but insistent.

You pause, the question hanging in the air. Tears spill over, and you nod, holding in a sob. "Yes," you whisper, your voice cracking. "I do."

Wordlessly, he reaches out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. His touch is grounding.

With a steadying breath, you push aside the tumult of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

You look back at your shaking hands seeing the sink run red as you rinse the rest of Tans blood away, the water swirling slowly like the tension in your chest. The room feels both too small and too vast, the weight of everything pressing down on you.

Lemon's eyes soften with understanding. "Does he know?" he asks gently.

You shake your head, tears now flowing freely. "No," you manage to choke out.

Lemon gives you a sad smile and pats your back. "It's gonna be okay. He's tough. He'll pull through. He's Tangerine, after all."

You look over at Tangerine, his face pale and his breathing shallow. The sight of him like this, so vulnerable, breaks something inside you. You sink to your knees beside the table, clutching his hand in yours, your tears falling onto his bloodstained shirt.

"I should have told him, “ You whisper, your voice breaking. "I should have told him every day."

Lemon kneels beside you, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "He knows," he says softly. "Somehow, he knows. And he’s fighting.”

The room is silent except for the faint, labored breathing of Tangerine. You press your forehead to Tangerine's hand, your sobs shaking your entire body.

"Please, don't leave me," you whisper, your voice raw with pain. "I can't do this without you."

"He's going to make it," Lemon murmurs, more to himself than to you. "He has to."

You cling to those words, praying that they're true. Because the thought of a world without Tangerine is too much to bear.

When the morning sun shines through the kitchen window, you stir, the warm light nudging you awake. You jolt up, immediately checking on Tangerine and finding him still breathing, albeit slowly. His chest rises and falls steadily, and a wave of relief washes over you.

Your body aches from the uncomfortable sleeping position, but you ignore it, stretching briefly before moving around the kitchen to make some coffee, the familiar routine grounding you.

Suddenly, you hear a faint sound. Turning around, you see Tangerine, though barely conscious, calling out for you, reaching out weakly.

"Hey, " he murmurs, his eyes fluttering closed but a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

You rush to his side, your heart heavy yet light with relief. “don't go too far" he whispers, his hand finding yours.

"Lemon!" you call out, your voice trembling with a mix of emotions. "Lemon, get in here!"

Lemon appears in the doorway, eyes widening as he takes in the scene. "What's going on? Is he—?"

"He's awake," you say, unable to contain the sob that escapes your lips. "He's going to be okay."

Lemon's face softens with a mixture of relief and joy. He steps forward, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "I told you he's tough," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "Tan doesn't go down that easily."

You nod, unable to speak, the relief washing over you in waves. You stay by Tangerines side, his hand still clasped in yours, feeling the weight of the nights fear and uncertainty lift just a little.

Lemon places a gentle hand on your back, his voice soft but firm. "You need to rest. Take a shower, change into some fresh clothes. I'll keep an eye on him."

You hesitate, glancing back at Tangerine "Are you sure?" you ask, your voice wavering with concern.

"I'm sure," Lemon reassures you, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "You look like shit."

"Thanks, Lem." you shake your head at his compliment and make your way to the bathroom. The hot water cascading over you feels like a much-needed cleanse, washing away the grime and the fear of the night. You change into fresh clothes, feeling a bit more human, and take a moment to steady yourself before heading back to the kitchen.

When you return, you see Lemon leaning close to Tangerine, their voices low as Tangerine attempts to sit up, wincing with every movement. Lemon supports him, and you quickly move to their side, slipping an arm around Tangerine to help. Together, you guide him into one of the bedrooms, easing him onto the bed so he can rest more comfortably.

"Thanks," Tangerine murmurs, his face still pale but his eyes more focused.

"You need to rest," you say, brushing a damp strand of hair from his forehead. "We'll be right outside." As you and Lemon turn to leave, Tangerine's voice stops you.

"Wait." His hand reaches out, grabbing yours weakly. You look at Lemon, who gives you a knowing nod.

"I'll give you two some privacy," he says softly. "Call if you need anything." You nod at Lemon before turning back to Tangerine.

"You scared the living daylight out of me last night," you admit, your voice trembling slightly as you sit on the edge of the bed, Tangerine's hand still clasped in yours.

"I didn't mean to," he replies, a weak smile playing on his lips. "But I guess I did give that Burberry suit a run for its money."

You manage a small laugh, tears of relief filling your eyes. "I guess I owe you a new shirt," you say, your voice breaking with emotion as you remember ripping it off him to stop the bleeding.

"And i owe you a pristine car cleaning," he replies, squeezing your hand tightly, his smile widening.

Your laughter fades and you sit in silence for a moment, gathering your courage. You know that now is the time to speak your heart. “Tan I—” you begin, but Tangerine interrupts, his expression soft.

"Thank you." He looks down for a second, watching his hand play with yours. “Sorry, you were saying,” he looks back up into your eyes.

You blink in confusion, feeling your cheeks flush. "Oh, erm… you don’t have to thank me. It’s... it’s part of the job." you mumble.

Tangerine’s grip on your hand tightens, his eyes never leaving yours. "It’s more than just a job to you, isn’t it?"

You swallow hard, the truth pressing against your lips. "Yes," you whisper, barely able to hold back the tears. "It’s more. So much more."

He nods, a bittersweet smile on his face. "Lemon might have hinted at it before, but I’ve suspected for a while."

A mixture of relief and embaressement washes over you. "Lemon and his big mouth," you mutter, a weak laugh escaping your lips.

Tangerine chuckles, but winces in pain. You scold him lightly. "Don’t laugh, you idiot. You need to rest."

He grins despite the pain, bringing his hand to your cheek. "Will you stay?"

You lean into his hand, feeling his touch. "I'll stay." you whisper, tears falling freely now.

Tangerine’s eyes soften, and he reaches out to brush a tear from your cheek. "I’ve been feeling the same way you know. For a while actually."

Your heart races, and you struggle to find your voice. "What?" Tangerine’s eyes flick between your eyes and your lips before he closes the gap, kissing you softly. The kiss is tender, filled with all the unspoken emotions you’ve both been holding back.

Its a clusterfuck, but someone might like it...

[ccazimi]

Hiyahh saw that u said ur reqs are open my idea is pretty simple tbh but maybe could ya write sum abt sukuna lets reader bleach his hair to re-dye it but ends up failing horribly so he has to shave off his hair n he's js acting like a soggy cat 🫡

sorry if this didn't hit the mark! new to this haha

"I'm going to fucking kill you, woman."

You pouted from where you stood behind Sukuna as he scowled at his reflection in the mirror.

"Hey, it's not that bad..." You started nervously, trying to alleviate the situation you had created.

"Not that bad?!" Sukuna angrily interjected before you could even finish your sentence. "My head looks like an overused toothbrush."

And with uneven splotches of yellow, orange and white with short stiff strands that sat like straw after being freshly dried, the comparison was actually quite accurate. Accurate enough that you had to look away with a hand over your mouth to suppress a giggle.

"Are you laughing? Is you fucking up my hair funny to you?" He grit his teeth, irritation only growing at your tittering.

"No!" You squeaked, before stepping up to where he stood by the sink counter. "Is it really that fucked up?"

He watched you from the corners of his eyes as you lifted your hands to gently grasp a small tuft of hair sticking out. It was dry and brittle as though someone had air fried it for a bit too long. You tested its flexibility by bending it in your fingers and it gave way with a soft crunch leaving you staring at the dead hair between your fingers, and Sukuna stiffening even more. "Oh."

"Oh? Oh? Is that all you have to say for yourself?" You could practically see the steam exiting Sukuna's ears. "Give me that." He snatched the fossil of his once beautiful salmon colored hair that you'd collected and inspected it for himself. "How'd you even mess it up that bad? Were you using industrial bleach or something?"

"I don't know, I just used the old bottle of bleach I found under the sink." You mumbled. "The 'forty' brand."

"Forty?"

"It had the number forty on it."

He spun around at looked down at you incredulously, making you furrow your brows. "What, is that a bad brand or something?"

He brought his palm to his face, closing his eyes as another growl escaped his throat. "That wasn't the name of the brand, you idiot. 'Forty' is the level of the bleach"

You kept your mouth shut as he seemed to only become more livid.

"They come in volumes from weakest to strongest: ten, twenty, thirty, and forty."

He opened his eyes to glare down at you, leaving you to marinate in your guilt and feeling dumb as hell. "I'm sorry, Sukuna. Listen, I'll pay for you to get it fixed at the salon-"

He dismissed your attempts at reparation with a wave of his hand, holding up the tuft of broken hair up to your face. "You see this? There's nothing any professional can do when your hair is fucked this bad. I'm going to have to buzz it."

He watched you drop your gaze trying to hide the growing pout on your lips. Honestly, you'd really liked his hair too.

With an exasperated sigh he decided to take pity on you, trying to make you feel better in his own way. "Its fine, I'll just shave it so that it grows back fresh. Also I am never letting you near my hair again."

"Do you need any help buzzing it?"

He shot you a death glare that had you scrambling to exit the bathroom as quickly as possible.

You were laying on the couch, reading a book with Yuuji curled up on your lap when you heard the door to the bathroom open. The last few minutes were marked by the buzzing of an electric razor and you snapped your head up as Sukuna finally revealed himself to you.

He stared at you silently with his arms crossed, waiting for your commentary. "Well?"

Your first thought was that he reminded you of a lion that had its majestic mane shaven off - more so due to his demeanor rather than his appearance.

As for his appearance...

"You know I actually like the look." You said with a genuine smile. His chiseled features and sharp inky tattoos gave his face enough structure that he could actually pull off the buzzed look.

He deadpanned you, clearly skeptical of your approval.

"Look Yuuji, doesn't he look handsome?" You scratched the golden retriever's ears, prompting him to look up. Although Sukuna supposedly didn't like the puppy, Yuuji absolutely adored Sukuna from the moment he'd met him and would routinely piss himself in excitement whenever Sukuna would visit (much to Sukuna's disgust).

But Yuuji caught sight of Sukuna and growled, before laying his head back down.

You might have never seen Sukuna look so genuinely offended in his life.

"Don't mind him, he probably just needs to get a little used to your...new look." You tried to reassure Sukuna, but could barely contain your laughter at what a dirty scowl he was giving the dog.

"Let's go out for dinner tonight."

"No."

You sighed, dramatically throwing yourself on Sukuna's lap where he sat on the couch snacking on chicken katsu. "Come on, how long are you gonna keep sulking over this?"

He grabbed a pillow to throw it over your face and kept eating. "I am not sulking." He grumbled.

You fought against the pillow, finally managing to get it off and grin cheekily up at him. "You so are. Seriously, it doesn't look bad."

For the past few days Sukuna had refused to go outside, slinking around the apartment like a wet cat. His pride, his joy, his beautiful hair that he normally only trusted with high end salons had fallen at your hands, and he refused to let it go.

"Look even Yuuji's warmed up to you again."

Upon hearing his name, Yuuji got up from where he was slobbering on a chew toy and nosed Sukuna's ankle, tail wagging back and forth like a propeller. Your dog wasn't the smartest and it took him a little to be convinced that Sukuna was still his grumpy self and not some hairless replacement.

"Tsk. I don't care about your rat dog - in fact i'd rather have it not be all over me."

You chose to not mention it, knowing damn well Sukuna had perked up if even a bit when Yuuji went back to fawning over him. Instead you sat up, cozying yourself on Sukuna's lap in that way that you knew would always grab his attention.

"I'm seriously sorry I messed up your hair, okay? And you know I find you sexy with or without your pretty hair. So lets go out so I can show off to everyone how attractive my boyfriend is." You teased him on purpose, knowing that his ego would take some coddling while his hair grew back.

He rolled his eyes but you knew you were getting somewhere when he set his food down to snake his hands around your waist. "Fine. But only if we get sashimi."

"Yes!" You chirped. "Sounds good to me." You raised a hand to pet his head but he caught your wrist before you could feel his buzzed scalp under your fingertips.

"You're still not allowed to touch my hair, though."

[lesb0]

one of the most interesting art history mysteries is the changing face of isabella d'este; a marquise of mantua, highly educated brilliant intellectual classical humanist, dance choreographer, musician, song composer, knew virgil by heart, super important patron of the high renaissance. all the money and power a renaissance woman could have. these are her commissions:

Literally all portraits. for all her skills and genius and court status, her highest priority was her looks. never seen or described in poems without a full face of thick lead skin bleaching foundation and sometimes with bleached blonde hair. She was constantly obsessed with being too thin, too fat, not fat enough, too thin again. known to stare at a mirror for hours.

when leonardo sketched her at age 26, they mutually rejected each other. he wouldn't condescend to her intelligence and status by painting an imaginary 13 year olds heavily made up face on her body. she wouldn't allow a painter not to "idealize" her beyond recognition.

So a huge problem for art historians now is that nobody can agree on which portraits are supposedly her, because none of the sitters appear to have the same face, hair color, or even age. None of the portraits look like her, because none of the portraits are of a real woman.

When she was 62 years old and heavily scarred from the lead makeup, she sat for this Titian:

[alphabetboyluvr]

bad decisions | jjk - series masterlist

title credit: bad decisions - bts

pairing: bartender!jungkook x female reader | strangers-friends-lovers, fwb

synopsis

it's simple: write your deepest darkest fears on origami birds and string them up on jungkook's ceiling. when they fall—which they inevitably will, thanks to his cheap daiso washi tape—you have to face the fear. set it free. the issue? you've a fear of intimacy. jungkook, a fear of rejection. and you've both got the capacity to make some incredibly bad decisions.

genre / tropes: smut, fluff, a lil angst, bartender!jk, student!jk, strangers-to-friends-to-lovers (?), fwb, deal arrangement, undefined relationship (they're just friends! just besties!!), miscommunication, idiots in love, emotional slow burn, bucket list (a.k.a. the birds) - see read more for warnings & authors note

wordcount: 450k babbbbyyyy (on-going)

soundtrack: official | reader suggestions

start date: 2022.08.06

minors dni // originally posted to wattpad

warnings: reader has a fear of emotional intimacy and uses physical intimacy as a substitute, jungkook has a deep-rooted fear of rejection. lots of drinking, lots of cursing, lots of bad decisions (every chapter includes at least (1)), jk and the oc have different styles of communication (woo miscommunication!!), a lot of past relationship trauma on both sides, jungkook is the sweetest angel baby ever, jin is kinda evil, jimin is a shit shag (and you have to experience it not once but twice!)

smut warnings: oc is a lil bratty, both switchy but jaykay definitely leads <3, fingering, oral (m & f), ass play, a looooot of titty sucking, cock warming, vaginal sex, sex toys (m & f), every position ever created, jaykay has a huge cawk <3, filming, lots of showering together, thigh riding, 69, squirting, panty sniffing (and sucking !), mutual masturbation, motel sex, endless orgasms, like, idek what else to add but there's more!! they just fuck a lot!! not my fault!! blame the birds!!

note from holly: i heard bad decisions once, ONCE, and knew i had to write about whiney jaykay and how fucking him would be a bad decision, but then it spiralled and now im 370k words deep into a fic about origami birds, glitter, and the way jungkook thinks he'll die every time he gets horny. of everything I've ever written it's hands down my favourite set of characters. jungkook is good in a way that he isn't in literally any of my other fics. i think it's my most well-received fic over on wp and it's just v v special to me. i hope u enjoy it!

BAD DECISIONS

key: smut 💖 | holly's fave ✨ | reader fave* 🪩 | bird 🕊 | club 🍇 *as per my wp stats all chapters listed below are available on wp, and will eventually be linked here too.

BD #1 - Purple Starfuckers - 3.5k

🍇 | a disco ball walks into a bar...

BD #2 - Park Jimin - 3.2k

💖 | does it count if you don't finish?

BD #3 - Coffee - 2k

message request from justjk

BD #4 - The Gym - 4.1K

just wanted an excuse to write about gym rat jk tbh

BD #5 - The Bet - 6.6k

🍇🪩 | songs that remind you of the past, blissfully unaware you're laying the foundations of your future

BD #6 - Wishing - 6k

🍇| summer goes by in a technicolour haze

BD #7 - Sex With An Ex - 6k

✨| kim seokjin looks like an angel, loves like lucifer

BD #8 - Washi Tape - 8k

enter stage left: origami birds

BD #9 - White - 6k

✨🕊 | old, leering men at waterparks are gross. jungkook is not.

BD #10 - Blonde - 3.5k

in the wise words of maisie peters, there's nothing more frightening than a woman scorned and a box of bleach

BD #11 - Perry - 5.9k

🕊 | it's totally normal to shower with your friends

BD #12 - An Agreement -7.4k

💖🕊 | jungkook has to leave the room cause he gets way too hard (in a platonic way)

BD #13 - Work of Art - 11.8k

💖 🪩🕊 | you discover mirrors. jungkook discovers tits. learning is fun!

BD #14 - New Rules - 8k

💖 🪩🕊 | jungkook's got nice hands and he knows how to use them

TO BE UPLOADED

BD #15 - Paper Planes

BD #16 - Overindulging

BD #17 - Jeon Jungkook

BD #18 - Cake

BD #19 - Send To All

BD #20 - Park Jimin... Again

BD #21 - Doing The 'Right' Thing

BD #22 - Listening To Jimin

BD #23 - Cherry Picking

BD #24 - Resolutions

BD #25 - January

BD #26 - January, Still

BD #27 - Keeping Quiet

BD #28 - Avoidance

BD #29 - 'Daddy'

BD #30 - Evaluating The Meaning of 'Home'

BD #31 - The Photo Booth

BD #32 - Question...?

BD #33 - Boundaries (Or Lack Thereof)

BD #34 - Speed Dating

BD #35 - Saying 'Please'

BD #36 - Denial

BD #37 - Faking It

BD #38 - Delaying The Inevitable

BD #39 - Rooms

BD #40 - Spinning Bottles

BD #41 - Locked Doors

BD #42 - Hitting Where It Hurts

Wattpad | AO3

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

Part 20: I speak in tongues

"I'm not like you, I speak in tongues. It's a different language to those of us, who’ve faced the storm against all odds and found the truth inside." -can u see me in the dark? by Halestorm, I Prevail

Regent Masterlist Part 19 AO3 Mundane Macabre (Main)

When Ellie first began traveling, she’d (rightfully) assumed that she would never stop being surprised by humankind. Humans are curious creatures, capable of both kindness and cruelty in equal measure. 

(The Fentons were prime examples of cruelty)

(Cruel towards the living, dead and those who lie in between.) 

(Their children suffered, maybe even more than the ghosts they tried to hunt) 

With time, Ellie had decided to create her alter ego of Wraith, the quiet being of shadows that was just eerie enough to pass as something other regardless of what form she was in. Wraith was Ellie’s favorite mask to slip on, to hide from the living world as she tried to help where she could. 

Ellie Nightingale was a nomadic medium with a preference for punk rock, bleached hair and her leather jacket. 

Wraith was the opposite in ways that mattered, was created to help with the violence the halfa was witness to, fists bruised and weapons bloody. 

Ellie was not. 

Perhaps she’d broken herself into too many pieces, too many identities, for a solid visage to form. Cracked like a mirror, dirty and covered in old marker messages from friends long gone. Messages she’d carry with her no matter what name she went by, or style of hair, leather jacket or denim- halfa or not. 

That’s what made her unique. 

(Clone.) 

(Failure.)

(Danielle.)

(Ellie.) 

(Wraith.) 

Vlad had been her origin story, her beginning, but he was no longer her master. Slave to no one, daughter of nobody. 

But she was a sister to good people. 

Sometimes Ellie caught herself thinking ‘what would Danny do?’ when confronted with an extraordinary problem, trying to channel his brilliance despite their distance. He might not consider himself very intelligent, but Danny was the cleverest (and kindest) person she’d ever met. He loved her, his clone made as a violation of his bodily autonomy and by his fruitloop of a godfather. 

(Superman had not treated his clone the same.) 

(She understood his feelings of violation) 

(Kon was a living being and needed support too.) 

However, Jazz was her idol. 

Many people would’ve written off the woman as a know-it-all golden child, but those in the inner circle knew the truth. Jazz was the first child of the Fentons, who had nobody but herself to teach or to guide her. When Danny was born, Jasmine devoted everything to caring for him, to raising him as their parents should’ve. 

(His first words, his first steps)

Jasmine Fenton was a woman who loved fiercely and so, so very deeply that she’s willing to sacrifice her own wellbeing to ensure the happiness of the ones lucky enough to be given her love. 

With the rise to Regency and the subsequent downfall of her progenitors, Jasmine Fenton was left to rot in the basement with Danny’s grave, just like the yellow flowers she so fondly left in memorial. 

(Ellie would forever grieve the loss of Jasmine Fenton, the mother she so desperately wanted.) 

Yet, the Lady Nightingale arose from the grave, ash and blood staining her name, a ghost in an inhuman shell, ready to remake the world should she have to burn it down. 

(Jazz carried so few regrets, but they weighed her down like anchors.) 

(One day they might drown her in the dark depths.) 

(Her template’s younger visage admist the spectral mist spoke volumes.) 

(Maybe one day the faces of the elder Fentons would fade away.)

(Ellie could only hope.) 

The Regent, despite having staked her territory in the Ridge alongside Phantom, was unofficially claimed as one of the Crime Alley’s own. Defending the working girls, helping kids with homework or getting them away from ner-do-wells, the Regent had not hesitated to reach out a helping hand even after being targeted by those who would break her will. 

Black Mask, for instance, had put a bounty on the woman’s head with an eagerness that disgusted many others. People knew what a man like him would do with powerful woman, what enjoyment he’d receive breaking her. 

It was also no secret how much the Mask wanted to get his hands on the Red Hood. 

The helmeted vigilante had been a frequent pain in the ass ever since his debut some years ago, destroying his black market operations and getting the Big Bat involved. Sionis wanted little more than to rip off the fucker’s head- helmet and all. 

However, Sionis had tried his hand at subtly for once- he’d hired freelance to take out Hood’s second-in-command while the guy had his guard down with his girlfriend, a pretty red-haired civilian Sionis wouldn’t mind a turn with. The idea was to throw Hood’s gang leadership into chaos so Black Mask’s men could sweep in. Jason Todd was high in the ranks that his death would do just that. 

Figures the guy would survive. 

Jason had been seen with his girlfriend in the Ridge only days after the failed assassination attempt, no worse for the wear. Red Hood had come sniffing around his operations, with Regent stalking his men and the Phantom destroying his latest shipment of merchandise. Though, with the under-the-table job he’d hired out for, Hood found nothing linking him to the attempt on his second-in-command. 

It was time to change tactics. 

The Regent was confirmed to be in a romantic relationship with Hood, if the various Gothamite twitter posts and the sub-reddit r/RedHoodRegent dedicated to commemorating their obvious status, was to be believed. 

There wasn’t many problems with targeting the older sword-wielding vigilante; unlike Robin, Regent didn’t have the Big Bat for backup, but did have the Phantom. The ghost-like meta (or actual ghost, Sionis wasn’t sure how much he believed the rumors) was the biggest obstacle between him and Regent. If Mask could distract (or get rid of) Phantom, then his men could sweep in and eliminate Regent when the vigilante inevitably falls to his numbers. Sure, Sionis was sure he would  lose quite a few men, but it's Gotham. The numbers can always be recouped later. 

Perhaps when Red Hood tries to save his girlfriend, Mask could finally get his hands on him. 

Two birds, one stone. 

Oh yes, Sionis liked this plan. 

He had some calls to make.

A/N: I'm back! This was supposed to be posted on my birthday back in August, but I wasn't in the best headspace for writing or even being on any social media. I have several pieces waiting in the wings to be finished and edited, but I'm back and ready to write again! (Famous last words.)

(To those who guessed Black Mask had something to do with the bomb, kudos.)

Also, for those who might be uncomforable with Sionis' thoughts about Jazz, just remember- he's a bad guy, deranged and over all not the kind of morally upstanding person you want in charge of anything. Things get really dark where it concerns Sionis and what he plans for the future. Just a warning, because those who've read my other works know my penchant for angst.

[37sommz-archive]

CH. 04. NOW PLAYING: lunch by billie eilish [fluff]. ✼.⠀summary: michaela draws the attention of dts, 1.5k. ✼.⠀view:⠀masterlist⠀⸻⠀join the taglist⠀⸻⠀request.

✼.⠀MARCH 14, 2019 — melbourne, australia

“Formula One returns this weekend with the season opener in Australia. The return of Honda to the pinnacle of motorsports finds itself overshadowed by the racing debut of a rookie.”

-

“Michaela Sommers will take on a historic role in today’s race. The Australian will become the first woman since Lella Lombardi to be entered in and race for points.”

-

The coverage of the rookie’s historic weekend is set over images of the season’s twenty drivers moving through the Melbourne crowds. Nineteen pairs of feet adorned in their teams’ respective colors exit the small cruise ship, excitement for the new season bringing a lightness to their steps. Daniel Ricciardo, the senior Australian on the grid, stops to sign a fan’s yellow Renault hat. His trademark smile falters for a brief moment as he turns to look behind him.

His bright expression melts into one of concern as he catches sight of the Toro Rosso rookie, Alex Albon, but not his shorter friend. In two long strides, the Renault driver is at the Thai driver’s side. Both among the taller drivers, their heads peek out beyond the orange cap of the Mclaren rookie, Lando Norris, just ahead of them. Engrossed in taking a photo with a young fan, Alex is soon pulled out of his motions by the senior driver. With a tattooed hand on his shoulder, the camera crew strains to capture the shot. The microphones pinned to the lapels of their team polos pick up a few low words. 

“Where’s Michaela? She was just behind me off the boat.” 

The Australian’s words carry a noticeable twang to them. His accent bleeds with concern before it is starkly contrasted by the posher, lilted British accent of the Toro Rosso driver. His head whips to check the exit ramp still attached to the small cruise they had all taken across the channel. His shoulders rise as if attempting to kiss his ear lobes.

“They haven’t removed the ramp. She must be on the boat still?”

As quickly as he delivered the response to the Australian’s question was the same quickness it took for his attention to be captured once more by another fan. An older boy this time who excitedly began to rattle off how he had been robbed by an untimely Safety Car at a race he finished just outside podium the previous Formula Two season. 

Snickering to himself, the Renault-donned Australian lifts his cap to run a tanned hand through his curly brown hair. He releases a breath in reaction to both the missing rookie and the heat bubbling through the force of the crowd.

The episode cuts away from the occupied drivers to another scene. The cameraman focuses on a restroom door aboard the aforementioned boat, silence rings through the scene before the a feminine humming pulls the action back together. A click of the door echoes through the empty hall before a head of platinum blonde hair, the roots kept a darker tone, peeks out behind the white door. The owner’s eyes finally make contact with the cameraman, a mischievous smile adorns the young woman’s warm features. 

Pushing the door open, she exhales softly with a throw of her intentionally waved platinum hair over her shoulder. The red accents of her black Alfa Romeo polo stand out against her bleached hair and browned skin. 

Her smile never falters as she leads the cameraman away from the hallway to the ramp awaiting her exit. 

“Had to touch up my makeup.” She explains her absence casually before allowing herself a polite nod to the crew left on the small boat. 

“The humidity’s already done a number on my lashes. Got them all clumpy and shit.” She mutters the swear under her breath as if hoping the microphone would be unable to pick it up. 

“George is covering for me,” she says with a spark of comfortability, adding an muttered caveat with, “I hope.” Her steps come to a halt in front of a mirror, her hands move to arrange her hair before smoothly adjusting her polo and flashing a smile to check her teeth.The ease she exhibits in front of the camera is noted to be a stark contrast to the other more reserved personalities among the grid. 

It is another three steps before she is descending down the ramp. A paler hand reaches out to land upon the shoulder of the Alfa Romeo. The hand belonging to the driver’s PR manager brushes away at a stray wave covering up the team logo. With a smile, the driver hands over a tube of mascara, silently thanking her before making her final exit onto the pavement where the fans lie in anxious await.

Murmurs in the crowd turn to roars as the home-turf rookie makes her final descent. Her short manicured nails catch their sights as she waves to their joyous cheers. The previewed smile first shown to the cameraman trailing behind her grows impossibly brighter before a kiss is blown to the crowd before her.

Their roars begin to fade as the scene switches once more. The same driver depicted in the previous moments returns to the screen. Her smile absent from her face as she carefully adjusts her uniform before moving to place an Alfa Romeo cap upon her platinum blonde locks.

“Whenever you’re ready,” the producer’s voice rang out from behind the camera. As if flipping an ‘on’ switch, her lips pull into the familiar bright smile.

“Okay. My name is Michaela Sommers and I am a rookie driver for Alfa Romeo Racing.” Her faintly manicured hand raises with a thumbs up directed towards the producer. 

Her eyes widen in question releasing a gentle, “Was that it?”, in confirmation she had successfully met their requirements. “Tell us your name and who you race for,” had been their previous instruction. After a glance to the sound engineer, the producer mirrors her thumbs up.

“Michaela Sommers is definitely going to be one of the more scrutinized drivers this year.” Will Buxton takes over the scene as it cuts to his thoughts. “As the most recent Formula Two champion, she’s got everything to prove and everything to lose.”

His face is replaced by a compilation of Michaela’s wheel to wheel racing in the previous season’s championship. Her iconic red Prema Racing car twists and turns in waltzes against the cars of George Russell, Lando Norris, and Alex Albon; the other promoted drivers from her championship season.

“She had a fantastic Formula Two season. Complete dominance from the very first turn and she never let her foot off the gas.”

Another montage takes over the screen, this time showcasing her shattering eleven wins across feature and sprint races. As the montage plays out, the Australian lifts trophies above her head with the widest of smiles on her face. The drivers poised on either side of her change with every celebration but she remains upon the top step. Ending with a shot of a spray of champagne dousing her in sweet alcohol, the scene shifts back to Will Buxton.

“She’s a damn good driver. One of the best talents we’ve seen in some time.” His voice continues to speak as the view of her car maneuvering around the most difficult tracks in the world overtakes the view of his face. 

“She’s technically sound.” The wheels of her car scrape onto the track, leaving a mark as if signifying her presence that day.

“Level-headed.” Her voice emerges with a crackle as she narrowly misses a catastrophic crash with a more reckless driver. A calm, sing-songy, “Down boy, too close.” Echoes as Will’s voice comes to replace her’s once more.

“With the latest breaking you’ll ever see,” he completes his thoughts with a laugh. True to his words, the next few scenes are another compilation of her overtaking into and out of turns. Her car pointed in an almost perfect position with each overlaying video.

“The expectations couldn’t be higher for her. She’s got the talent and the confidence to take her career into the stratosphere. But there’s an unprecedented amount of pressure being placed on her shoulders.” His expression turns solemn at the release of his last statement.

As he begins to explain the thought, the subject of his speech comes into view once again. She nods as he hears the producer’s question. Buxton’s voice continues to speak over the silence of her clip, “Every race, every moment of her time is going to be examined under a microscope and used as a thesis on female drivers. It’s almost unfair. Almost.”

His voice cuts away as Michaela waits in anticipation of answering the producer’s question. 

“Do you think you’ll be given a fair chance at succeeding in Formula One?” The producer’s question is met with silence at first. As she chooses her words carefully, Michaela’s name appears on the screen in bold white letters. Tilting her head to the side, her eyes exude a level of seriousness previously unseen to the audience. All it takes is another beat before the background music quiets and Michaela decides upon the right answer.

“I don’t think I care if they do. I’ll find a way to win regardless. Even if it’s out of spite.”

✼.⠀taglist:⠀

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@d3kstar @thewannabewriter @hwalllllllelujah

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@emilyval1 @scarlettwidow3000 @anotherblackreader

@sv5beehives @mynameisangeloflife @tellybearryyyy

@melancholyy-hill

[smallgodseries]

[image description: A woman is shown in profile, looking at herself in a hand mirror with surprise and delight. Her hairdo resembles Elsa Lanchester’s in James Whale’s 1935 Bride of Frankenstein. She wears a lightning-bolt earring, and a white shirt against a deep green background. Text reads, “26 Tesla Jefferson – Small God of Experimental Hairdos.”]

It’s only hair, she whispers, sweet and sultry as a summer breeze.  It grows back.  So live a little.

She is in every pair of scissors, every comb, every bottle of bleach or tube of dye.  Her hands, clad in sanitary latex, move through every stylist in the world at least once.

Her gifts are sometimes subtle.  An inch off the ponytail of a scared sorority girl; new bangs for a child who has never worn them before.

Her gifts are sometimes wild, tangled, and untamed.  Electric colors.  Perms and buzzcuts and sculptural formations fit to scrape the sky.  Like any artist, she matches her art to the audience.

It’s only hair, she whispers.  Express yourself.

She is with the young musician shellacking Elmer’s glue into his mohawk, encouraging it to reach higher and higher, hair set to reach up and touch the stars.

She is with the old woman who takes a bottle of temporary dye into the shower at her granddaughter’s urging, stepping out with wet curls as pink as a Sunday sunrise, with the blushing cheeks to match.

She is with the teen who cries slow, sad tears as the last of their chemotherapy-stricken hair drops away under the stylist’s clippers, as they open the box containing the rainbow wig they requested from their parents.  It fits like a dream.  It brushes their cheeks like a kiss.

She doesn’t care how conservative your experiment seems to anyone else.

It’s your skin.  It’s your hair.  And she thinks, always, that it looks amazing.

[enatopiaa]

Just a fun oneshot that I thought of!! OPM songs give me so much inspiration ‎٩(⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)و*̣̩⋆̩*

guys i know Grimmjow is literally in all blue and one would assume its his fav color but hey its for the story okay😔👎

(Bleach) Grimmjow Jaegerjaques x fem!reader ; inspired by the song Dilaw - Maki (ˊᵒ̴̶̷̤ ꇴ ᵒ̴̶̷̤ˋ) i love this song so much !!

Timeline ; after TYBW arc

TW: none! pure fluff ‼️

I originally wrote this in Filipino to practice LMAOO yeah I’m not sharing it… MY GRAMMAR IS SO BAD. Pure pinoy pero mas mataas grade sa english BAHAHAHA

“Ikaw, Ikaw ay dilaw”

⊹ ࣪ ˖

In all honesty, Grimmjow had never given much thought about his favorite color. He was never the type to care about such trivalities, he simply just accepts whatever came his way.

So why did he say that she was correct when she answered the color ‘yellow’ on their small guessing game about his favorite color?

“Is it yellow? I think it’s a pretty color and it’s also one of my favorites!” She answers on her first try. She was excited and smiling like a little child as her eyes sparkled with wonder, he could never admit it, but every time he looks at those (e/c) orbs, it always felt like the world was calm.

He found himself pausing for a moment, feeling something stir within him when she enthusiastically said the word ‘yellow’, the way the word rolled off her tongue sounded like a sweet melody, he felt his heart skipping a beat. He nodded in agreement, it was as if that color infused with her energy and excitement

“Yeah, you’re right…”

From that day forward, suddenly yellow was no longer just a ‘mere color’— It was her, her smile that can light up a dark room, her laughter that always sounded like a song. Every time he saw the golden hue, she was all he could ever think about.

He never had these bothering thoughts and feelings before, he was the former sexta espada, a hollow— he wasn’t supposed to be able to ‘feel anything’ in the first place, his hollow hole was proof of it.

Grimmjow insists that he loathes humans and soul reapers especially that damn strawberry head, but theres this warm feeling that he feels inside every time he hung out with the woman who was never afraid to stand her ground in front of him. A scintilla of something else filling in his void, it was unfamiliar to him, but it felt mellow like the spring day.

He always felt this strange, yet comforting feeling of euphoria whenever they were together. Sure, They may have been enemies and have hurt each other at first when the Espadas were still a thing and Aizen was still around, but ever since the day Urahara paired them up to work together with a few tasks during the invasion of the Quincies, he has been finding himself to slowly enjoy her company as time passed.

The wounds and scars that they gave to one another during their past clashes suddenly meant more than it was supposed to ‘hurt’, the pain it inflicted became a constant reminder of her presence in his life; no longer an act of violence but rather a testament of their history and the unspoken promise that bloomed between them.

His world was once dull and devoid of meaning, mirroring the barren dunes of Hueco Mundo, until she entered his life like a guiding star, introducing him to the vibrant world of the living, for once he was starting to feel more— emotions that he never knew he had possessed as a hollow, bringing color into his world that was once monochromatic.

If he was in a ballroom, she was his dance partner. If he were searching for answers, she was his certainty.

If there was a color to the new light that had been guiding him through the darkness,

She was yellow.

⊹ ࣪ ˖

yeah i said I wasn’t a writer but since this grade level we’ve been writing so many poems and essays I just had to find a way to improve, in a way where i can enjoy LMAO but yeah this is just a practice, i might start writing some more but…🧍

hope u guys enjoyed, its short but I tried😔 Grimmjow is a difficult character to write afterall but i love him still CACKCLING

[thesmokingguns]

Lingerie Box w Izzy Stradlin

Minors DNI 18+

The lavender box was tied with a thick ivory colored ribbon. Just the outside of the package looked expensive but as I paid for the outfit, feeling how light my wallet was now I was even more aware of what a splurge this was. The woman behind the counter slid the perfectly wrapped box into a glossy white bag with the brand's name in the same lavender color as the box, adding tissue paper like it was a present and walking around the counter to hand it to me. I thanked her, feeling awkward as I turned to hurry out of the store.

As someone who wore sneakers every single day and a mix of leggings or jeans the idea of frilly lace and silk made my skin crawl. When people talk about jeans and t-shirt girls I’m sure they are referring to me. I’m the type of person who wakes up and uses my fingers to comb my hair or just throw it up in a haphazard bun. Dressing up for me involves some lipgloss and if it’s really fancy I usually shakily apply mascara. So today was completely out of my wheelhouse and comfort zone.

The next stop of the day was the salon. I handed over my credit card before even getting any services and explained to the woman that today was important because my boyfriend had been away for a few months. She said she would take care of me but I didn’t expect it to be such a painful process. Wax and bleach, nails and curling irons. I left the salon six hours later with a bill that had too many zeros and wondering if people really paid this much money for torture monthly.

But I wanted to impress Izzy.

Izzy and I had started dating nine months ago. After three months we were living together and spending more time together than I think people would recommend. But we were in love and that was all that really mattered. At seven months he was going on tour with the band and I was staying behind to take care of our cats and because I didn’t like the idea of being on a bus with five guys in a band and their girlfriends. I thrived in personal space and knew tour life wouldn’t give me that. Izzy was a saint. He understood my space mattered and didn't pressure me to join him on the road. Which was why now that he was coming home I wanted to impress him so much.

I wasn’t dumb. I knew what happened with bands backstage, I knew what girls did to try and get close to rockstars. SO maybe part of this all was to show him that I could be part of that lifestyle. That I fit in with him. Maybe I loved him too much and I was just desperate enough that I would do anything to keep him.

At home, I stood in front of the mirror looking at myself. I knew it was time to get ready. I had around a half hour and really only needed to get dressed. I had been waxed and primped up, hair and makeup done, skin moisturized and made up to look like the doll version of myself. My hair in soft brown waves, eyes lined and sparkled, lips pouty and painted red. I hadn’t known I could look like this. As I touched my lips, I was surprised it was really me.

Moving towards the wrapped box I blushed, embarrassed even alone that I had bought this. It was a white lace teddy, with sleeves that tied over my shoulder in silky bows. See through it clung to my skin, at my hips it had a layer of soft mesh that was ruffle over them. I had bought white thigh highs to match and was contemplating on putting on the above the elbow silk gloves when I heard the front door open.

“Hey Dove, are you home?” My hands were fumbling to clean up the box, fingers slippery in the silk as I shoved the box in my closet, gasping as I reached for the white silk choker, struggling to tie it around my neck. A small gold heart dangling at my throat. “Dove?” I turned from where I had been staring in the mirror, looking at Izzy standing in the doorway.

Somehow he looked even better. The tight black jeans clinging to his body, button down shirt that was left unbuttoned at the top, a leather jacket on top of it. He pulled off his sunglasses, dropping his bag as he looked me up and down.

“Oh, dove.” I was rushing to him, throwing myself at him as he grabbed me, lifting me up as he kissed me. My legs around his hips as his hand slid down, over my back and onto one thigh as he moved the few steps towards the bed.

My heart was in my throat as he pulled away, tugging off his jacket, looking down at me with this feral need. I felt overwhelmed as he stared at me, taking me in with his deep eyes and lusty looks.

“Kiss me.” I tried pulling at his shirt collar, wanting to bring him down as I melted under his gaze but there was no controlling him. When he wanted to do something he would do it. Only then and not a moment sooner.

“I’m going to kiss every inch of your skin. Just be patient, my little dove.” my heart fluttered, cheeks burning as I raised a hand to feel the heat on my skin as I watched Izzy fully stand up now. He was watching me as he undressed, licking his lips like he was a man starved about to get his first meal. And then he was pushing me back, my head on the pillows as he hoovered over me, fingers running over the thin cloth that cost more than our light bill. “This is new.” His fingers moved down my arms, touching the gloves and guiding them towards his body, “I love it.” The way he growled, lice husky as the tips of my fingers slid down his stomach, towards the shaft of his cock.

Before Izzy I had been a sort of virgin. I sort of did everything but never fully experienced things fully until him. He was always patient, molding and contouring me to get the most pleasure for both of us. When I asked him to slow down he would. When we were trying new things he talked me through it with details of each step.

“Should I get undressed?” I asked, his eyes snapping up to look at me. He has been kissing over my stomach, groaning as I stroked him with my silky gloves on.

“Absolutely not. You look like heaven.” His tongue licked through the lace nipping at my skin as I writhed between his body and mattress. His compliment made it worth it. All the primping and the, “Jesus Christ.” He had pulled the bottom of the teddy to the side, the softness of my pussy greeting him. “You’ve been busy, dove.” His mouth lowered, kissing over my mound, tongue sliding through the wetness of my slit.

Izzy moaned into my juices, the sensation vibrating through me and causing a shiver of delight to run up my spine. His hands coming up my thighs, a finger hooking through the expensive teddy fabric to pull it more to the side as his other hand rested on the skin of my pussy lips, fingers pushing through the slit to spread me open for him. His mouth pushed deeper, tongue sliding into my entrance as I squealed. Hand squeezing his cock and making him look up, eyes meeting mine as he tongue fucked my pussy. I was trembling from the sensation.

“I need you now, little dove.” He was bringing my arms off him, raising them above my head as he pressed a deep kiss against them, letting me taste the way my pleasure tasted against his tongue.

I gasped as he moved both my wrists into one of his hands, pressing against mine. His cocks tip fighting the resistance of my entrance.

“Izzy, wait.” He looked at me, “it’s been a few months month. Go slow, please?” His eyes blazed as he kissed me, releasing my hands as he sat up, dragging me to his lap. My hands on his shoulder to keep balance.

“You take it how you can, dove. If you need help I’ll just pull your hips down and let your body stretch around me again.” He stroked my back, eyes watching as I gulped, unsure of myself as I held him in my hand, guiding him into me.

The first couple inches pulled my body apart, stretching me as I whimpered. Watching the way izzy swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he watched me.

“It’s starting to hurt. I don’t know if I can fit the rest.” My cheeks burned as I spoke the confession aloud. Watching Izzy smirk.

“We’ve done it before. We can do it again. Hopefully blood comes out of this fabric without too much trouble. I’m going to break you in, little dove. You better hold on.” Izzy warned. Holding my hips as he drove himself up and into my body.

The Yelp I let out as he shifted, pushing me back against the mattress, his balls resting against my ass as he held me down, the fullness of him inside of me.

“Sh, sh, sh. That’s a good girl.” He praised me as he rocked into me. I was whimpering , holding him as I tried to adjust to him. The size of Izzy seeming to tear me open as I felt myself contracting around him. My pussy throbbing around him as I rolled my hips. “I’ve missed you.” He breathed against my neck, clinging to me as I quaked under him. My head foggy, body feeling like it wasn’t my own.

“Izzy.” His name came out as a whisper, a prayer to the universe but he understood what I was saying. He knew what I needed.

My thighs around his hips as he moaned against my collarbone, nipping and sucking, marking me as I came around him. My vision blackened as I clawed down his back, hearing his feral groan and feeling the way his cum pumped inside of me.

I looked down as he pulled out, watching the cum slip down my thighs mixed with the slight of pink trails of blood from being fucked so hard again. Izzy was grabbing a cloth, wiping me clean as he kissed my thighs. His head sweaty as I reached down, fingers running through his hair, watching him look up at me with a smirk.

“I like when you dress up for me, dove. I like it a lot.”

[athenamikaelson]

War of Scars - A Luke Castellan Story

PART 1

Thunder Daddy is Real?

Word Count- 3.7k

Warnings- Swearing, blood, gore, fighting, some mature content 

“What the actual fuck is a half-blood?” 

I scream to Keiko as she grips the steering wheel of the stolen Passat we were now flooring down the vacant back road of New York. Keiko’s short, white-bleached hair stuck up as if she’d just been electrocuted, and a look of concern in her dark eyes as she glanced between both front-view mirrors. I tried to figure out what she was so worried about as I glanced through my passenger seat mirror but was only met with the darkening road. The red cast from the taillights shone a light on the passing forest and trees. The branches from the trees cast shadows over the backroad, a small shiver goes through my back as I imagine that they look like limbs and arms reaching for our car as we drive away. As if begging us not to drive any further. I want to yell to them that I don’t want to go any further either, that I want to go back home. Home to my mother and father, a mother and father that no longer want me I remind myself, and home to my brothers who probably don’t even know I’ve left. 

“A half-blood is what you are Y/N.” 

Keiko’s words snap my attention back into the car as I turn to her with an annoyed look. I can feel the tips of my nails scratching against the skin of my palms, reading to break the already calloused skin. A nasty habit I picked up a few years ago.

“Ya, that’s what everyone keeps telling me! But that doesn’t answer what the fuck it is!” I can feel the breaking of skin as I dig my nails deeper, trying to ground my feelings and stop another outburst from happening. 

“Do you remember all those stories I used to tell you about the Greek Gods and myths?”

Keiko’s eyes briefly meet mine for the first time since I watched her steal this car over 3 hours ago. I think over what she said. The stories about the woman who the goddess Athena turned into a snake lady, and the man who stole fire from the Gods just to give to humans come to mind. I slowly nod my head at her, hoping that this isn’t some psychotic break she’s having because I’m on the verge of having my own right now and this car is already tiny as fuck. Two people freaking the fuck out would not be a good idea. 

I watch as Keiko’s chest rises and falls deeply, her ACDC shirt that she had stolen from a lost and found at school stretches at the movement. 

“All those stories I told you, about the Gods, Zeus, Posideon, Hades, and all the others,” She turns back to look at me, “they’re all true. And one of them is your biological parent,” Her face scrunches up as she goes back to look at the road, “well technically not biological per se since gods don’t have DNA.” 

She goes to continue speaking but stops once I let out a laugh that comes deep from the back of my throat. I watch with scrunched eyes as she stares at me in slight worry I hunch over gripping my stomach as more laughter rises out of my mouth.

“Are you ok?”

Keiko’s worried voice comes from beside me and I sit up and wipe stray tears from my eyes. 

“Am I alright? I should be the one asking you that question, you’re the one saying that the almighty thunder daddy Zeus is real, and then saying that one of his buddies is my parent.”

Keiko’s face scrunches up in disgust and she casts a glance to the star-covered sky for some reason.

“You really shouldn’t talk like that, the Gods don’t like to be disrespected.”

Her worried expression halts my jokes as I stare at the now serious face in front of mine. Keiko has never been the one in this friendship to care about following the rules or being scared of anything, she’s the fearless one. So why the hell does she look terrified at the talk of a bunch of fictional deities?

“Ok, Kio the joke was funny for the first five minutes but I want the truth now. Why did my parents kick me out after saying I’m not theirs and that you’d know what to do?” 

I try to cover up the slight break in my voice at the mention of my parents, or adopted parents I guess, telling me that after 18 years I wasn’t theirs. Flashes of my caring mother holding me when I was a child telling me that I was a gift to her, that she would never let anything happen to me. Was all of that some sick lie?

“Y/N listen to me,” Keiko catches my attention, “I’m not lying to you. Your mother or father is a god. A Greek god. Which makes you a half-blood, half mortal half god. And because of this, it means being out here in the mortal world is going to get you killed. I was sent here, as your satyr to protect you until the time came where I’d take you to camp. I’m not sure why it’s taken this long for the monsters to catch up to you, most of the time half-bloods are brought to camp around 12. But you being 18 brings up some questions. I think your parent is a smaller god that’s why there hasn't been much focus on you.” 

I can feel my mouth start to dry up from the air entering my now-opened mouth. I’ve been staring at Keiko with wide eyes the entire time she's been going on about gods and death and shit. She must have noticed my lack of response because she stopped talking and looked at me. Her serious expression brings a wave of anger through my system which is the final breaking point for the palms as my nails break skin and a warm liquid coats my nails. 

“Stop the car.” 

Three words are all I say to her as I unbuckle my seat belt.

“What?”

I turn to Keiko, my teeth grinding against one another.

“Stop the goddamn car. I’m done being lied to. My parents have lied to me my entire life and now my so-called best friend is making fun of my shitty life with made-up fairytales. So stop the fucking car or I’ll jump out myself.” 

“I’m not stopping, we can’t if we want to make it to camp as soon as possible. And we’re going,” Keiko glances at the speedometer, “64 miles per hour. If you jump out of the car now you’ll die.” 

I look out of the forest and think of all that has happened in the past 12 hours. 

“It’s not like I have anything to lose. I’d rather be mangled and dead than sit in this car with you, driving to god knows where, while you tell me a bunch of lies.”

I hear a deep sigh come from Keiko and wait a moment to hear whatever bullshit she’s about to start spewing at me but it never comes. Instead, I feel the car start to accelerate, and a few words in an unknown language spill from her mouth. 

“Put your seatbelt on.” 

Keiko’s voice comes out harsh and deadly as I watch her grip the worn steering wheel. Her frantic gaze moves from the back of us to the dark road ahead. 

“I’m not putting my seatbelt on, just stop the car already.” 

I try to argue back at her but she just lets out a huff of air and reaches over the center console of the car, grabs my seatbelt, and snaps it back into place. I watch her with wide eyes at the fucking audacity of the bitch. I go to yell at her but she raises a single finger at me, just like a mother who’s had enough of her child talking would. 

“We’re being followed.”

Her dark eyes move frantically all over the place as if she sees something I don’t. Ok, maybe she is losing her mind. Fuck now I feel like an asshole. 

“Listen Keiko maybe we should just take some deep breaths and talk this through. Cause it seems like right now some of us are going a bit crazy. And by some of us, I don’t mean me.”

I lightly raise a finger and point at her. I go to laugh at my joke but the car jolts forward as if we’d just got rear-ended.

“What the-”

“It’s right there shit!” 

Keiko slams her leg onto the gas pedal but it doesn’t seem to do much help as another hit comes from behind us. My long legs bang against the dash of the car as I look behind us trying to figure out what asshat doesn’t know how to drive, but I freeze when I see nothing there. No headlights, no cars, nothing. We’re the only ones on the road. 

“There you see it! You see I’m not lying! I can’t tell what creature it is but it’s big and has wings so that crosses out giants, thankfully.” 

Kieko glances between the front and me and her face falls once she reads my features.

“What?���

“What do you mean what? There is nothing there.”

I turn to the back of the car and point to the vacant road behind us. Keiko turns around and her eyebrows raise.

“No, it was right there.” 

But as she turns back around to face the front, I jump from the loud yelp that escapes her lips as she appears to see something before us on the road. Something I can’t seem to see. What I don’t see coming either is the tight right turn Keiko makes to miss the invisible “creature.” I grasped onto the passenger side door and turned wide-eyed to her. About to yell at her when the driver’s side of the car is lifted and I feel my heart fall to my ass as I watch the trees that were once reaching and calling for me, get their wish as the car is thrown into the woods. 

“Y/N, come wake up, Y/N!” 

I hear muffled voices come from above me as cold winds envelop me. I must be in heaven, God must be calling for me. I try to open my eyes but the overwhelming pressure in my head urges me to keep them closed for just five more minutes. I’m about to give in to the thought when a sharp pressure hits the side of my cheek, shocking me awake.

I abruptly sit up but quickly regret it when a pounding pain comes from every part of my body. My eyes can’t seem to register my dark surroundings either as more pain enters my frontal lobe. 

“I’m sorry I did that but I need you to get up, I don’t know where the chimera is, but I can feel it’s close.” 

Kieko, that’s Kieko. My brain tries to get me to register her words but the throbbing in my head is halting any thought process from going on. Another wave of red pain goes through my body as I feel an arm wrap itself around my waist and lift me.

“Do you think you can walk?”

A voice asks me. No, not a voice, Kieko’s voice. Kieko is talking to me. I try to shake my head as if to fight away the overwhelming urge to close my eyes and lay down and sleep for the foreseen future. 

“Get up and walk”. 

A voice comes into my head. Why does my subconscious sound so manly and bossy? But I listen to it as I feel my feet try to move one after the other. The overwhelming pressure coming from my entire body though makes it feel as if I’m dragging two cinderblocks on each leg. 

“OK, good. We’re about a mile from camp I think if I got my constellations correct.” 

I finally can get my eyes open as I stare at Kieko beside me. If I wasn’t feeling like absolute dogshit right now I’d laugh at the image of her short body leaning awkwardly to the side trying to carry my taller one. I try to lean off of her slightly to give her help but her grip tightens on me.

“Don’t, you got banged up pretty hard in the accident. I thought I had lost you for a moment there, but it was my mistake for thinking you’d ever let death take you this young or without your approval.”

Kieko lets out a small laugh which quickly turns into a cough as she winces in pain.

“Are you hurt?”

My voice comes out strained and rough, like an old woman who’s been smoking since she was 13 years old. Kieko just shakes her head and picks up the pace of her walking. 

“Just a few scratches, nothing as bad as you. We need to move faster though I can sense the chimera getting closer. The smell of your blood is making it easier for it to track us.”

My face scrunches up at the words. I want to argue to her that there’s no creature out there hunting us and that she is just having a psychotic break but once I feel the cold metallic-smelling liquid move down my face as if it was caressing it, I stay quiet. 

We continue to walk for what seems like hours, or well Kieko walks and I latch on to her and get dragged. I don’t know where the hell she’s going but I have no other choice but to go with her. I lurch forward as Kieko abruptly stops. Her heading whipped around us like a mad woman. 

“Did you hear that?” 

She whispers into my ear. I shake my head in response. And we stand there for a moment before she tightens her hold on me and starts to walk again. Her hand around my waist quickly detaches and I can only watch in what seems like slow motion as she is thrown against a neighboring tree. A sickening crack comes from her body as I watch it fall to the ground. I go to run to her a roar turns my attention to behind me. I can feel my heart beat erratically as I slowly turn to the monstrous being behind me. With a body that must stand above 10 feet tall, a lion stands before me. Wait. No. Not a lion. Defiantly not a lion. 

Acidic bile starts to make its way up my throat as my eyes meet the red beady eyes of a goat, a goat that is protruding from the lion's back. A hissing sound catches my attention as I slowly turn my gaze to the python that has replaced the lion goat’s tail. 

As I stare at the creature I want to pass out. Or maybe I’m already asleep and this is some bad nightmare. But as the lion-goat-snake thing takes a step toward me, with its paws that rival the size of my big head I use whatever strength I have left and run. If I can lead it away from Kieko that's all that matters. 

I don’t have to worry about it not following me as I hear the thundering footsteps catch up behind me. I try to dodge tree after tree, jumping over fallen logs, and feel my sneakers imprint into the mud that has started to form from the light downfall of rain that has started to coat myself and the forest. 

I go to turn right, the downpour of the rain falling harder and blocking much of my already shitty vision. But a burst of heat and flames come from behind me hitting the trees to my right. I whip my head around to see smoke coming from the lion-goat-snake thing and curse to myself. Of course, it can breathe fire too. I try to go to my left but a searing pain catches on my back as I drop to the ground. 

I lift myself on my elbows as I watch the monster lift its large paw and lick the red liquid off of its nails as if it were mocking me. Its eyes glint with malice as the goat lets out a strangled noise.

“We’re a gift from Athena.”

A strangled hiss comes from the snake's mouth.

 I go to close my eyes and just accept my fate but stop when my manly subconscious chimes in again. 

“Get up and fight, you’re a warrior. Grab the stick next to you and fight back. Make it bleed. If it can bleed it can be killed.” 

God, when did I become so melodramatic? But I realize manly me is right, if I die this thing will go back for Keiko. The monster continues its prowl toward me as I keep eye contact with it. Hoping it doesn’t see my right hand that has grasped onto the stick by my side. I wait until the lion opens its mouth, probably to light me on fucking fire and that’s when I strike. 

I lift myself onto my knees and lurch forward with the stick in my hand and as the lion opens its ginormous mouth and I see the start of embers begin to light in its throat I stab the stick right down into it. I loud howl of pain comes from the creature as it tries to dislodge the stick that is now protruding from its mouth. I watch for another moment as the goat and the snake move around frantically trying to help their injured creature. But I know if they do succeed in getting that out I’m fucked so I push myself up with a hiss. The overwhelming smell of blood coming from my back, the more I move the harsher the pull and pain. But I'm not letting the ugly motherfucker be my demise. 

I come up from behind the creature, which is now facing away from me with its entire focus on dislodging the stick, and I leap onto its back. The goat and the snake are the only ones to notice my arrival as they start hissing and making whatever strange noise the goat is making. I grab onto the fur of the creature to keep myself upright and I grasp the snake into my hands. It thrashes in my hands, its cool slimy body almost making me drop it as I try to wrap the snake around the goat's throat. I pull in the opposite direction with all my weight as the hissing constricts until I hear the crack of the goat's neck. The strangled snake and the now dead goat have caught the attention of the lion who has finally dislodged the stick and has now noticed me.

The lion roars so deeply that it makes my body shake. I would almost feel bad for killing its friends/body sharers if it wasn’t trying to y’know fucking kill me. The lion stands to its full height and starts to thrash its body as a means to get me off. I quickly grasp the curled horns of the goat as a means of stabilization. But as the thrashing gets harsher I hear a sharp snap as I’m thrown against yet another tree. 

Bark scratches up my already bloody back as I let out a loud wail. The rain from before crashing down all around me thunder shakes the earth and forest and lightning strikes a nearby tree. But my attention is fully on the lion who has now started its attack on me. I can sit there as I lift my hands to protect my face as the lion comes rushing at me. 

I sit there drenched, cold, and bloody waiting for my demise, but nothing comes. I slowly open one eye and flinch as I see the lion staring at me. But it’s not moving. It’s not breathing either. Its once hatred-filled eyes are now glossed over with death. My gaze goes from its haunting eyes to its chest where the goat horn I had cracked off is now lodged into the lion's heart. Red liquid coated my hands as I loosened my grip on the horn and backed away from the dead creature. 

“How did you do that?” 

I thrash my head to the side grabbing the horn a second time in defense. I halt though when I see Keiko holding herself up against a tree. Blood trickles down her whitening skin as she looks at the monster in awe and slight disgust. She pushes off the tree and starts to walk to me but her knees lock up and she falls to the ground. I push myself back up quickly and crawl to her. 

“Are you ok?”

I quickly ask her, wiping away the blood that has now made its way onto her eyebrows. Keiko sends me an unreadable look. 

“How did you kill the Chimera?” 

I go to answer, but a shock of lightning comes down between us. The only thing I can focus on is the scorching pain that has taken over my body and left arm. My vision goes black as I feel my heart start to give out. 

“We need a medic.” A strained voice yells from beside me. Or is it coming from behind me? I can’t tell. All I can focus on is the searing pain that has taken over my being, I can’t seem to focus on the campers running over to me and Kieko, I can’t hear any more of Keiko's cries for help, and I don’t feel the muscular arms wrap around my body as I feel my heart start to slow down again, everything going back to dark. 

“I think she’s waking up!” 

A loud girlish voice comes from beside me.

“That’s what you said two days ago.” 

Another more annoyed voice talks back. I strain to open my eyes as light crashes against my burning pupils. But I do I open them enough to look up to see dark brown eyes staring down at my Y/E/C ones. 

“Welcome to Camp Half-Blood Sleeping Beauty.”