#I can't believe I've settled for final names

[sissylittlefeather]

Let's Forget About the Stars: Chapter 11

A/N: I'm back! Maybe. But I wrote this and I really love it, so I hope you will too. Here's another chapter of our lovely Dovey and Jumbee. We pick up with Gladys in the hospital and Dove sitting on a big secret. Enjoy!

Need to catch up? Masterlist

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, but also pregnancy, morning sickness, illness and death

Word count: ~2.6k

"It'll be okay, Jumbee. Whatever happens, I'm here. It'll be okay."

But she's not sure she believes it either.

******

Elvis sends Dove to Memphis immediately to be with his mama and promises to follow her as soon as he can. In an unfortunate twist of events, her morning sickness begins on the train to Memphis and she's ill the whole time. When she finally arrives and Vernon picks her up at the train station, she's pale and weak and sweaty. He does his best not to notice as he drives her to the hospital to see Gladys. She manages to compose herself enough to make it into her room, but the second Vernon leaves the two women alone, she rushes to the bathroom and vomits.

“You sick, baby?” Gladys calls from her bed. Even ill, she's caring for everyone around her.

“It's nothing catching, Mama. I promise.” She comes out of the bathroom and sits down, pulling a mint from her purse. Gladys looks her up and down and suppresses a smile.

“How far along are you?” Dove’s eyes flick up to meet the older woman’s quickly and she shakes her head.

“I-I-I-no-I’m just… food poisoning…”

“Right. And I've got allergies.” Gladys purses her lips and gives Dove the look.

“Almost 12 weeks.”

“Does Elvis know?” Dove shakes her head and tries not to cry.

“He said he didn't want this yet.”

“Oh, baby, c’mere.” Gladys pats the bed next to her and Dove perches on it gently, letting her take her hand. “He will be happy as a clam. Once he gets over his initial shock, that is.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.” Gladys pats her hand softly and then grins broadly. “I'm gonna have a grandbaby!”

Dove laughs. The older woman’s joy is contagious.

“Yes ma'am, I suppose you are.” The two women spend the next half hour or so discussing plans for a nursery, baby names, and the merits of breastfeeding. When Vernon returns, Gladys puts her finger to her lips and Dove smiles, enjoying their secret.

******

Elvis arrives a couple of days later and immediately meets his family at the hospital. He spends the next day and a half by his mother’s side. That night, she encourages him to take Dove out and then sleep at Graceland. She's hoping that the next time she sees him, he'll know about the baby and they can share in the joy together. But there's something else, too. Something dark and looming and she doesn't want him there for it, just in case.

Everything about the night feels off, though. For some reason, Dove never seems to find the right moment to tell him. She's filled with a kind of nervous energy that doesn't fade no matter what she does. Elvis tries to settle her, completely unaware of anything at all. He kisses her neck gently and tries to slide his hand up under her skirt, but she pulls away.

“Not tonight.”

“Aw Dovey, why not?” He looks at her with his blue eyes pleading.

“It just doesn't feel right. I can't say why.” She sighs, flustered by what she's feeling and he caresses her cheek gently.

“Whatever it is baby, it's okay. I'm here. Let's just get in bed and I'll hold you. Okay?” She nods and they both put on pajamas to settle into the bed. Dove is filled with thoughts about the future and she has a hard time relaxing. Something is wrong, but she can't figure out what it is. Praying it's not the baby, she tries to go to sleep. Elvis is wrapped around her, breathing quietly in her ear and she focuses on matching her inhales and exhales to his. Before too long, she drifts off too.

They're not asleep for very long before the phone rings. Elvis groggily curses and drags himself out of bed, ready to berate whoever is on the line. Dove rolls over and closes her eyes, but she freezes when she hears him.

“Oh God, no.” His knees hit the floor and the phone receiver hangs by the cord as he immediately weeps. Dove is out of bed in a second, pulling Elvis to her chest with one hand and picking up the phone with the other.

“Hello?” She hears someone crying on the other end and her stomach churns.

“Dove?”

“Yeah, Vernon, it's me.” Her blood runs cold when he sobs again.

“She's gone.” That's all he can choke out, but it's all he needs to say for Dove to understand that Gladys is dead. Elvis wails even louder, hearing it again and Dove hangs up the phone without even saying goodbye.

“Oh, Jumbee…”

“I should've been there! I'll never forgive myself for leaving.” He soaks her chest with tears and cries uncontrollably like a child. Dove’s body is wracked with sobs as well, but she tries to focus on Elvis's grief.

“No, Jumbee, there was no way of knowing this would happen.”

“Why did she tell us to leave?! Oh God!” As Elvis clings to her, weeping, she starts to wonder how he will react when he finds out the baby is the reason she wanted them to have a night alone. All of a sudden, she's crying for two reasons as she holds the shaking frame of her shattered husband.

This becomes a familiar position in the days that follow. He spends most of his time crying, either next to Gladys’s casket or, after the service, in Dove’s arms. She does everything she can to be what he needs, but what he needs is his mother and she can't be that.

Elvis is broken and Dove is broken watching him. Her helplessness overwhelms her and she hangs on by a thread. The thread is Elvis's need for someone to stay strong. The only thing that carries her through is the knowledge that he needs her.

People try various things to cheer him up, but Dove doesn't. She simply is for him: a safe place for him to fall apart as often as he needs. And he does, frequently. It takes every ounce of her strength to keep herself together for him.

In what feels to Dove like not nearly enough time, Elvis is called to go back to Fort Hood. She follows him to the house in Killeen, but nothing feels the same without Mama. Somehow, her morning sickness subsides as quickly as it came on and she's fine, albeit a little more tired than usual. She mopes around the house when Elvis is gone, carrying his pain deep in her chest.

And then one particularly bad night, the night before he's set to take the train north to sail to Germany, Elvis is wrapped around Dove crying as she strokes his hair.

“I jus’ don't see the point without Mama. I don't wanna be here no more. It hurts too bad.” Elvis groans into her chest. Dove tries to hide the sob that comes out of her, but she can't. The thought of being without him is too much. And the baby in her belly has her on the edge of a total and complete breakdown. He sits up when he realizes she's damn-near hysterical. “Dovey…”

“No. Ignore me. I'm sorry.” She tries to contain her sobs, but it's like the past few weeks are all hitting her at once and everything she's suppressed is pouring out of her like a broken tap.

“Dove. I'm not going to ignore you. Talk to me.” He reaches up to stroke her cheek from his place between her legs on the bed. If he was paying any attention, he would notice the changes in her body from this position, but Dove is thankful that he hasn't.

“It's fine. I'm fine. I'm sorry.” He sits up and pulls her into his lap and takes her face in both hands.

“Eleanor Morningstar Presley. I'm your husband. Tell me what's going on.” She looks into his eyes and it comes tumbling out of her before she can stop it.

“I'm pregnant.” He blinks a few times and she wants to scream and die and throw up all at once. “I'm s-”

“Don't you dare apologize. Dovey, how long have you known?” He tries to do the math back to the last time they had sex.

“Since July. I'm about 17 weeks.” His eyes widen in shock.

“Seventeen weeks?!” She nods slowly, bracing herself for some kind of negative response from him.

“I know, I'm s-”

“This is amazing.” She freezes with her mouth hanging open.

“A-amazing?” She looks at him as a smile, the first smile she's seen from him in weeks, crawls across his face.

“Yes. Amazing. Dovey, why didn't you tell me?!”

“Well, I was going to and then… Mama…” He darkens a bit.

“Did she know?” Dove nods.

“Yes. She did. That's why she sent us home that night, so I could tell you.” Understanding washes over him.

“Why didn't you?”

“I don't know. It just didn't feel right. I couldn't, knowing she was sick. Are you mad?”

“No. I'm glad she knew.”

“Oh yeah. We talked about all kinds of things, the nursery, names-”

“Names? Dovey…?” He looks at her with his eyes wide and pleading.

“Yeah, Jumbee?”

“Can we name her after Mama?” Elvis whispers. Dove sniffles as the tears fill her eyes.

“Her?” She looks at him lovingly. He nods vehemently.

“She's a girl. I can feel it.” She watches as he lifts her shirt to reveal her small baby bump. “God, how did I not notice?”

“You've been a little… distracted. It's okay.”

“No. You're my wife. This is our family. Mama would want me focused on this.” He puts his hand on her belly gently. “Our baby is in there.”

Dove giggles despite herself.

“Yeah, she is.” He leans forward and kisses her stomach gently and then whispers against her skin.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For giving me a reason to go on. I wouldn't be me without you. And now we have this to look forward to. Mama would be so mad if she thought I wanted to leave you both for her.” Dove breathes a deep sigh, releasing all of the stress and grief she's been holding on to.

“I love you, Jumbee.” He smiles up at her and kisses her belly again.

“I love you too, my Dovey.”

“We'll get through this.”

“Yeah, we will. All three of us.” He rubs his hand over the baby and nuzzles into her neck. “I'm so glad I married you.”

“Me too, Jumbee. Me too.”

******

The next morning, Elvis and Dove wake up early and lay in bed together dreading the time that they'll have to get up for him to leave for Germany. She's nestled into his side like she always is and he has his arms wrapped around her with his lips on her forehead.

“You'll be over there with me in less than two weeks. We've been apart before. We'll be fine.” Elvis sounds like he's reassuring himself more than her as he mumbles against her skin. Dove looks up at him and nods and he leans down to press his lips to each of her cheeks and then her lips. He pulls back a bit, blue eyes sparkling with affection and something else. She knows that look and it surprises her to see it, but she's not going to argue as he leans forward again, this time hungrily capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. It doesn't take long for the kiss to move into more, their tongues dancing wildly as hands slide over skin and up under pajamas.

He rolls over on top of her, sensually pressing his hips into hers as he drops a trail of kisses along her jawline and down her neck. She moans softly as he quickly unbuttons her shirt, but as soon as his hand touches her belly, he stops suddenly.

“Can I- can we- is it gonna hurt the baby?” He asks breathlessly. Dove giggles and kisses him gently.

“It won't hurt her. She's safe.” He nods and looks down at her tiny bump between them.

“That's good because I'm not sure I could stop now even if I wanted to.” He dives back into kissing her deeply, rolling his hips against her and letting his hard cock press into her center. “I need ya, baby. It's been too damn long.”

Dove whimpers as he finishes undressing her and strips off his own pajamas. He lays on his side and pulls her in close to him, throwing her leg over his hip. She sighs as he runs his fingertips over her body, stopping to squeeze her breast and her ass. He teases her entrance with the tip of his dick, slipping it around in her arousal.

“So good and wet for me, baby. You want this cock?” He murmurs against her lips. Dove whimpers and nods.

“God, yes. I need it.”

She moans loudly as he slowly starts to push into her, inch by tantalizing inch, his hand on her hip to steady her.

“Fuck, baby, you're so tight. I love this little pussy.” He groans as he bottoms out, his dick fully buried inside her. Dove’s eyes cross with the sensation of being filled as he slides out and rolls his hips forward to meet hers again.

“It's so good, Jumbee.” He kisses her softly as he picks up a steady rhythm of fucking into her slow and gentle. Maybe it's the pregnancy, or the fact that it's been so long, but when Elvis slips his hand in between them to rub circles on her clit, Dove cums almost immediately, moaning and grasping at his shoulders as her orgasm screams through her veins, lighting her on fire from the inside out.

The feeling of her pussy pulsing and squeezing his cock is almost too much for Elvis to take. He grunts and buries his face in her neck as his hips snap against her over and over again.

“Gonna… oh god, fuck!” He groans into her hair as his hips stutter against hers and he cums deep inside her. His body relaxes and he whispers. “I missed you.”

He lifts his head up and looks into her eyes, cupping her cheek with his hand. She smiles softly and kisses the end of his nose.

“I missed you too.”

******

At the train station, Dove stands on the platform watching as Elvis waves to fans. The Colonel has demanded that she stay back and let him be Elvis Presley. He even has his hand on her arm to keep her next to him. Neither she nor Elvis told him about the baby.

Just before the doors close, Dove yanks her arm away and takes off for the train. When he notices, Elvis's smile switches from the one he gives for pictures into his natural smile and he leans down, grabbing the back of her head and pulling her into a deep kiss. The cameras go wild, but they don't care.

The Colonel curses and Vernon just shakes his head laughing.

“Colonel, you lost. Elvis and Dove are gonna be Elvis and Dove. You might as well embrace it. He'll get rid of you long before he gets rid of her.”

The Colonel shoves his cigar in his mouth and turns around, huffing. He's beaten and he knows it.

As the train pulls away, Elvis is left with the image of Dove on the platform. He watches as she gasps and grabs her stomach, laughing with delight. That's the first time she's felt the baby move. She's lit up with joy and Elvis can't help but smile widely, knowing he'll never forget this picture of her with her eyes bright and her dark hair blowing in the wind. Dove looks down at her baby bump and runs her hand over it.

“Steady, little girl. We'll see daddy soon enough.”

******

Until next time...

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

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[yasmeensh]

Finally got to paint something a little more proper for my project. Paleolithic kids see a dragon come down from the sky 🐉

a few more doodles of my OCs Tam Kujo below >>

drew this one in the span of three days during class time :p. A few lines here and there while I wait for the prof to set up the slides and start the class. Kept going until I felt like not adding anymore.

two more

[echstacy00]

corruption kink w bf nicholas a. chavez

(MDNI)

[corruption kink ofc, inexperienced reader, softdom!nicholas, use of pet names (angel, baby, princess), reader is like shy and ditsy, pussy eating, lots of fluids, a lil fingering, requested here !]

nicholas’s large hand ran along your smooth legs, goosebumps forming on your skin. the feeling of his lips on yours no longer satisfying you

"nick, need you, please."

a small smirk spread on his lips as he watched you squirm next to him, thighs pressed together tightly.

"is that right angel? where do you need me hm?"

you whined at his obvious teasing, reaching forward to grab his hand, placing it on your lap. he chuckled pressing down on your clothed core,

"here baby? need me to touch you here?"

you bit back a moan, nodding your head quickly, desperate for nicholas’s touch. he moved to sit in front of you, lightly tugging your shorts down to reveal a wet spot that had formed on your panties. nicholas felt himself salivate at the sight of you, your cheeks slightly flushed, fingers rubbing your nipples gently through your shirt.

"i'm gonna use my mouth okay baby? promise it'll feel good."

you sat up slightly, grabbing his arm.

"your- your mouth? i've never- i've never done that before."

your boyfriend moved closer to you, planting a light kiss to your jaw,

"it's okay angel, i'll go slow. just tell me if you want to stop, okay?"

you nodded slowly, watching as he settled himself in between your legs. he ran his fingers gently along your slit, feeling your wetness through your panties. you let out a shaky sigh finally feeling some form of friction.

"all this for me baby? this wet from a little kissing hm?"

you ignored his question, scared your voice would betray you, instead moaning loudly as nicholas attached his mouth to your clothed pussy, sucking gently before backing away to look at you,

"use your words princess, need to know i'm making you feel good right？"

a soft ‘yes’ left your lips, waiting expectedly for more of his mouth. he let out a light chuckle, hand coming up to move your panties to the side, revealing your wet heat. nicholas let out a groan at the sight of you,

"fuck baby, can't believe no one's ever eaten this pretty pussy, look at you."

you brought your hands up to cover your face feeling overly exposed in front of nicholas. your embarrassment was quickly washed away as you felt nicholas's tongue press on your clit, a whimper escaping your lips at the sudden contact. nicholas moaned at the taste of you, sinking his mouth deeper onto your cunt. he attached his lips onto your clit sucking gently. you sat up to watch him, hand coming to grab his hair as you moaned softly, hips jutting up to slightly grind on his face,

"mmm, feels good, s' good."

he looked up at you replacing his mouth with his fingers, lightly circling your sensitive bud.

"yeah baby? like when i use my mouth?"

nicholas didn't even give you a chance to respond before engulfing your heat again, tongue prodding at your entrance, fingers still working on your clit. you arched your back off the bed, legs slightly closing around nicholas's head. you heard him chuckle under you as he brought his hands up to part your legs again, a firm grip on your inner thighs.

"don't worry angel, i got you, just enjoy hm? i'm right here."

you melted under his tongue, feeling a build up in your tummy, jolts of pleasure running through your body. he smirked into your cunt feeling you squirm under him. his hands moved away from your thighs, one coming up to press lightly on your tummy, the other towards your heat, slipping two fingers into your slowly, feeling your cunt suck him in. your grip on his hair tightened, free hand coming up to play with your tits, nicholas's name slipping past your lips over and over. nicholas looked up moaning at the sight of you, so desperate so easy for him to use. you were basically riding his face, chasing your own high, letting nicholas be the first one to ruin you with his mouth. his fingers in your cunt moved quickly, juices helping him ease in and out of you at an inhumane pace, jaw sore from his constant abuse on your clit. you squeezed your eyes closed, mouth hung open as your back arched of the bed,

"oh my-b, baby, i-, fuck baby, i'm gonna cum, baby i'm gonna cum."

he nodded quickly into your cunt, your juices soaking the lower half of his face, urging you to finish on his mouth. nicholas thought he could eat you out forever, removing his fingers to taste your release, licking at your entrance. you pushed his head away overstimulation too much for you to handle. he licked his lips, smiling wide at you,

"let me go again, please? you're so fucking sweet princess." how could you say no?

 genesisxc 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[rafecameronsslut4ever]

MISS YOU — rafe cameron (smut, angst, nsfw)

pairing; ex-boyfriend!rafe cameron x fem!reader summary: years after your breakup, rafe cameron crawls back into your life when he realises that you might have started moving on. a/n: omg this was so long i think i got carried away warnings: smut 18+, a LOT of angst, mdni, fingering, oral (f receiving), name calling, unprotected sex.

He does not knock.

Rafe Cameron barges into your dimly lit apartment instead of knocking the door and allowing you to let him in. He walks right past you, ignoring the frown on your face, and collapses down on your couch.

His shoulders are relaxed, arms stretched out along the back of the couch as he settles in and looks around your apartment.

His blue eyes are dart everywhere, but they don’t meet yours. His veiny hands are tapping away on his thighs—the same hands that used to envelope yours perfectly.

His blonde hair is longer than it was when you two were together—they're curling over his forehead. The length is almost too long, it makes him look shaggy, and yet it suits him nevertheless.

Your fists clench. Suddenly, the warmth of your home has vanished because of his presence.

"Are you going to stand there all night?" His voice is raspy and rough, almost as if he had just woken up, but you can tell from his red eyes and the dark circles underneath that he hasn't slept a wink.

"What do you want, Rafe?"

He finally turns his gaze to you, and the sight makes your knees go weak. You want to sit down next to him and bury your head into his chest, but you know that can't happen anymore.

He stands up, making you take a step back. You don't miss the hurt look in his eyes, but he hides it quickly and walks towards you.

The light coming out of the television playing in the background illuminates Rafe's face, his jawline sharp and his lips pulled in a soft frown.

He walks past you, making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

"What the hell?" You murmur, following him as he walks towards the kitchen.

He halts to a stop and you stand behind him, feeling like a mouse in his tall presence. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

He rolls his eyes and turns around to face you. His eyes stare into yours, resulting in the formation of a lump in your throat as your eyes meet for the first time in years.

“Who is he?” Rafe asks bitterly, his eyes not leaving your face. “The guy you were with yesterday at the Golf Club. Even better, where is he?"

Yesterday, your date made a reservation at the Golf Club for your first date, and the smug part of you had wished the Rafe saw the two of you together—which he apparently did.

You had a good time with the boy. He even dropped you off to your house afterwards. He was sweet, polite and soft-spoken. The complete opposite of your ex-boyfriend.

"Rafe, leave."

He scoffs, running his tongue along his inner-cheek. His eyes still burn into yours.

He brings a cold finger to your face and the metal of his ring faintly touches your cheek. You suck in a deep breath as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

You look away from him, unable to stand the intensity of his eyes. You know what he wants, and you won't allow yourself to give in to him.

Almost turning away, you feel him grab your face and force you to look at him. He's staring down at you in a way that makes your heart dip.

You can't believe you used to know this man, can't believe you shared the same bed with him and loved him so unconditionally.

His eyes drop down to your lips, and then back up to your eyes. "Kiss me."

It's your turn to scoff. You try to pry his hand off your face, but he doesn't bulge. He simply leans his face closer to yours, the faint smell of alcohol and cigarettes enveloping your nose.

"Don't tell me that you don't miss it," his thumb moves against your cheek. "I've thought about you every night since the day we broke up. You know, you're the only thing that stays on my mind."

"Rafe—"

"No," his jaw is clenched. "Let me finish, alright? I-I can't eat, I can't sleep. I'm fucking useless without you. I need you."

You push his chest away from you. "And whose fault is that, huh?"

"Please," his voice cracks. "Baby, please."

"Oh my god, just-just stop this, okay? Rafe, you didn't even remember our anniversary! The whole day you were getting high with B-"

"I don't care!" He shouts, interrupting you. "I don't care, okay? I just need you, and you need me too! Tell me you don't miss me and I'll leave."

You sigh, rubbing your face. You want to yell at him, but his presence and words make you weak.

He knows that he has an effect on you. He knows how easily he can manipulate you and bend you to his will.

But you gather yourself. You shake your head and seethe through your teeth, "Go fuck yourself, Rafe. Get out, right now. Or I swear to god, I will call the police."

He chuckles lowly. "And tell them what, baby? That Rafe Cameron came into your house and refused to leave? Please, call the police. It'll just make things easier."

"Get. Out." You point towards the door. "Go back to her, Rafe. The bimbo who's always on your arm."

He groans, his voice low and guttural. "She's not you, okay? She doesn't fucking get me. Only you do."

"You're a piece of shit."

He takes a step closer to you, if that was even possible.

"I'm a piece of shit? Do you hear yourself?" He's towering over you. His hands are gripping your arms.

You push his chest again and step back, only to bump into the wall behind.

He, too, takes a step back, running a hand through his hair. He laughs and looks down at his feet. "Fine. You wanna play this game, huh?"

He starts walking towards you, and suddenly your feet are glued to the floor.

You feel his warmth against your body before his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Your bodies are pressed against each other's.

You feel him run a finger down the length of your jaw.

You try to fight back the urge to moan at his touch. You want to push him away, but his touch makes you melt. It's been too long. Too long since he's been this close.

"Fuck you." You say, and your shaky voice doesn't go unnoticed by him. "And let go of me."

He ignores you.

He presses his forehead against yours, and your breath hitches in your throat.

You can't stop thinking about how much you want his lips on yours. How much you want him to not listen to your complaints and just fucking kiss you.

His breath hits your lips as his eyes search your face. "Tell me you don't miss me. Tell me you don't miss this," He whispers, his right-hand snaking up your body until it's resting right below your breast.

"I'll leave right now," he says, "and never come back. We can go our separate ways and live the rest of our lives separately. And then, ten years from now, you'll be at a children’s park and you'll see me and think, 'Wow. Rafe Cameron is hot.'"

"I-"

"Or," he pauses, his hand sliding down to your ass. "You can just stop being in denial and admit that you need me just as much as I need you."

His grip on you is tight, and his blue eyes are boring into yours. His breathing has quickened, and so has yours.

His face is mere centimetres away from yours at this point, and his eyes are digging holes in you. You feel his erection against your thigh, and the knowledge that he's aroused makes your brain go haywire.

"Say you fucking want me. I'm yours, alright? Just fucking say it." He's so close to you that you can taste his breathe.

You're at war with yourself. A part of you is screaming to kick him out, but the other part wants him to stay.

His grip on you tightens.

"I hate you." You murmur.

And then his lips are on yours.

The kiss isn’t soft and loving. It's harsh and needy, but it feels so right.

All protests, all thoughts and all the mixed feelings die down when he shifts his hand to your throat and squeezes it. With his other hand, he pulls up your thigh to his waist.

Your lips move together sloppily, his tongue darting into your mouth.

You feel him lift you up and walk over to your bedroom, his grip on you never loosening.

Your arms wrap around his neck, his tongue moves against yours, and all the feelings make you moan against his lips.

He breaks the kiss and pushes the door open with his foot, the dim light in the room allowing you to see the outline of his face.

He's breathing heavily. His eyes are dark with lust and his pupils are dilated.

You don't know what's gotten into him. Maybe the years apart have driven him crazy. But all that doesn't matter because right now he's kissing you like it's the end of the world, and you're letting him.

Your lips collide together again, and this time, it's different. It's more passionate and slow, and he kisses you in a way no one has ever kissed you before.

He lays you down on the bed and crawls on top of you.

You expect him to take control and dominate, but instead, he rests his head against the crook of your neck, his breathing hot on your skin.

"I'm so fucking sorry. I'm so sorry." He whispers as he kisses the side of your neck.

You're speechless. Your brain is telling you to shove him off, but your heart and body are telling you something else.

The lump in your throat has returned, and your eyes are starting to burn.

But before you can say anything in response, he rushes back to your lips, and you lose yourself in him.

His lips move hungrily against yours. You can taste the saltiness of his tears, and the thought of Rafe Cameron crying makes the knot in your stomach tighten.

His hips are pressed firmly against yours, his erection digging into your inner thigh.

The kiss is passionate, but there's a hint of possessiveness in the way he grips the side of your face.

His hand trails down your body, his fingertips roughly pushing against the fabric of your shirt making you whimper.

"I missed you so much, baby." He whispers.

Then he's sucking your lips, nibbling, and kissing. He's all over you.

Your hands tug at the hem of his shirt, and he lifts himself off of you, straddling you as he helps you pull his shirt off.

He's still the same; toned, sculpted, and ripped. You can't help but stare.

You run your fingers down his chest, and your eyes shut.

He's beautiful, and you've missed him so much.

He starts trailing kisses down your neck, sucking and leaving dark marks.

You moan breathily when he sucks on the sweet spot beneath your ear.

You were supposed to stand your ground, but fuck, you need him. You need him the same way you did when he first made love to you.

"Rafe," your voice comes out breathy, "I want you."

His hand is on your stomach, moving upward. He pulls his head back, and you see the desperation in his eyes.

"Fuck, say it again," he kisses the tip of your nose. "Tell me that you're mine."

"I'm yours." You shakily murmur. "Only yours."

He only groans in response. His lips capture yours again, making a gasp come out of your mouth—which he greedily swallows.

A piteous whimper slips past your lips when you feel your wetness coating your panties and rubbing against Rafe's pants.

But he still doesn't do anything to relieve the ache between your thighs. You buck your hips discreetly to grind against his covered dick, but he simply slaps your thigh, making you yelp.

He positions himself in between your legs, both of your parts still clothed; the fabric against your wet skin making you whimper.

You moan, grasping his bicep when his fingers trace along your underwear teasingly.

"Does he make you this wet?" He asks before pulling your underwear off and running his fingers past your exposed clit.

Your brain is so fucked up that silence is your only answer.

“Answer me or I swear to fucking God I'll leave you like this,” he says, slapping your thigh and making you gasp.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you reply annoyedly, "Just fucking-"

Suddenly, all heat disappears from above you. Your eyes snap open. The sight of Rafe clenching his jaw and pulling himself away from you makes you hurriedly reach out for him.

You stutter, “Wait-wait, wait, Rafe, baby, please.”

You tug at his arm, pulling him back down on top of you.

"I need you. Please. Please just fuck me."

"You're so pathetic." He chuckles, clicking his tongue before his hands are taking his shirt off, followed by your shirt being thrown somewhere in the room.

He diverts his attention to your tits, trailing wet kisses on each of them. You let out a satisfactory sigh as he continues wrapping and unwrapping his lips around your nipples.

He goes further down and presses kisses along your stomach.

Before you can react, he buries his face between your thighs. Your back arches, a hand on his soft hair as the other grips the pillow next to you, “Oh, fuck."

He practically devours you, looking up every two seconds to meet your blown eyes. He pushes your legs up, making them almost touch your shoulders. You gasp, tightening your grip on his hair as he continues to eat you out.

Your hands are everywhere, trying to hold anything that can make the storm in your stomach calmer.

Rafe slowly releases his tight grip on your legs before sliding his fingers into you. Your eyes squeeze shut.

Your hips slightly buck upwards, but Rafe shoves you down with his free hand.

His fingers are thrusting into you at a brutal pace, his tongue doing wonders right along them.

He detaches his lips off your pussy, but his fingers are still in you.

"Does he-does he touch you as good as I do? Does he make you as wet as I do?" Rafe asks as he leans over you. The hand that had shoved you down is now wrapped around your throat as he presses, making you choke. "No, he fucking doesn't. Only I make you feel this good, yeah?"

He doesn't expect you to say something because he knows that he's saying the truth. He’s the only person who can turn you into a mess.

"Oh my god, Rafe, right there." You moan as he curls his fingers deeper into you.

"Answer me, does he fuck you up as good as I do?"

You roll your eyes at the question he's asking for the nth time now, "Yeah, yeah he does." You reply absent-mindedly.

"What the fuck?" He exclaims, immediately pulling his fingers out of you. He pushes his fingers into your mouth, so deep that it makes you gag.

"You know what, I'll fucking treat you like a whore." He says, his fingers still deep in your mouth. "I thought I'd be nice to you after all these years, but you always have to be a bitch, don't you?"

With one hand, he clumsily pulls off his pants and underwear.

You moan as you feel him drag the tip of his cock over your pussy. He teasingly does so for a few more seconds before meeting your eyes and smirking at you.

"I'm going to fucking ruin you." He mumbles. "Show your boyfriend the bruises I give you, alright?"

And when he pushes his dick in, he makes sure to look down at how your walls envelope him perfectly even after all these years.

"Oh, holy fucking shit." You gasp when his hips thrust forward and go deeper into you.

Rafe drops his head on your shoulder as he sets a pace. "I fucking missed this. I missed fucking you- oh shit." He breathes into your shoulder.

Your eyes roll back into your head, your body budding with the pleasure his thrusts give you.

"Right there." You breathe.

"You never learn, do you?" He says. Swiftly, Rafe pulls out of you and flips you over so that you're on your stomach. "You're a whore. But only mine, baby."

Then he harshly thrusts back into you, making a pathetic moan leave your lips. His hands grip your waist as he pounds into you.

He wraps his arms around your stomach and pulls you flush into his sweaty chest, tipping your head up to pull you into a messy kiss. Your teeth and tongues clash uncomfortably, but neither of you give a fuck.

His lips detach from yours, and he buries his forehead into the back of your neck.

"You're squeezing me the fuck out," He moans out.

The new position makes you moan, your hands shifting from being vacant to grabbing your tits as he pushes himself deeper and deeper into you.

The sight of you touching yourself results in Rafe letting out a loud groan. His hand leaves your hair and slides down the front of your body to rub your clit.

The new fervour makes your legs shudder, "Fuck, I'm close." You mumble, leaning your head on his shoulder.

He nods frantically—having waited for this moment for years now.

"Cum for me, yeah. Cum all over me, baby. Need you." Rafe breathes out, thrusting harder into you.

In response, your back arches with a high. A loud moan escaping your lips and white dots blurring your vision as you release all over him.

Rafe fucks you through your orgasm—chasing his own with wild thrusts. “Oh, fuck, fuck."

You can feel his high approaching as he grips you tighter. He thrusts into you harshly, desperate for his release.

He throws his head back with a loud groan and a long string of curses when his hips falter and he's covering your insides with his cum.

The two of you are a gasping mess when you lay down on the bed.

You both stay there for moment, breathing in each other's scent. He traces your body, as if to memorise every inch.

When Rafe pulls away from you, it's like he's pulling your heart out too.

Because you know that this was just another night for him.

When Rafe cleans you up and covers you up with a blanket, he fails to cover the ache of your heart.

Because you know that the bed he'll be returning to won't be yours; but the other woman's.

[jji-lee]

corruption kink w bf mark

(MDNI)

corruption kink ofc , inexperienced reader , softdom!mark , use of pet names (angel, baby, princess) , reader is like shy and ditsy , pussy eating , lots of fluids , a lil fingering , requested here !

mark's large hand ran along your smooth legs, goosebumps forming on your skin. the feeling of his lips on yours no longer satisfying you.

"mark, need you, please."

a small smirk spread on his lips as he watched you squirm next to him, thighs pressed together tightly.

"is that right angel? where do you need me hm?"

you whined at his obvious teasing, reaching forward to grab his hand, placing it on your lap. he chuckled pressing down on your clothed core,

"here baby? need me to touch you here?"

you bit back a moan, nodding your head quickly, desperate for mark's touch. he moved to sit in front of you, lightly tugging your shorts down to reveal a wet spot that had formed on your panties. mark felt himself salivate at the sight of you, your cheeks slightly flushed, fingers rubbing your nipples gently through your shirt.

"i'm gonna use my mouth okay baby? promise it'll feel good."

you sat up slightly, grabbing his arm.

"your- your mouth? i've never- i've never done that before."

your boyfriend moved closer to you, planting a light kiss to your jaw,

"it's okay angel, i'll go slow. just tell me if you want to stop, okay?"

you nodded slowly, watching as he settled himself in between your legs. he ran his fingers gently along your slit, feeling your wetness through your panties. you let out a shaky sigh finally feeling some form of friction.

"all this for me baby? this wet from a little kissing hm?"

you ignored his question, scared your voice would betray you, instead moaning loudly as mark attached his mouth to your clothed pussy, sucking gently before backing away to look at you,

"use your words princess, need to know i'm making you feel good right?"

a soft yes mark left your lips, waiting expectedly for more of his mouth. he let out a light chuckle, hand coming up to move your panties to the side, revealing your wet heat. mark let out a groan at the sight of you,

"fuck baby, can't believe no one's ever eaten this pretty pussy, look at you."

you brought your hands up to cover your face feeling overly exposed in front of mark. your embarrassment was quickly washed away as you felt mark's tongue press on your clit, a whimper escaping your lips at the sudden contact. mark moaned at the taste of you, sinking his mouth deeper onto your cunt. he attached his lips onto your clit sucking gently. you sat up to watch him, hand coming to grab his hair as you moaned softly, hips jutting up to slightly grind on his face,

"mmm mark, feels good, s’ good.”

he looked up at you replacing his mouth with his fingers, lightly circling your sensitive bud.

“yeah baby? like when i use my mouth?"

mark didn't even give you a chance to respond before engulfing your heat again, tongue prodding at your entrance, fingers still working on your clit. you arched your back off the bed, legs slightly closing around mark's head. you heard him chuckle under you as he brought his hands up to part your legs again, a firm grip on your inner thighs.

"don't worry angel, i got you, just enjoy hm? i'm right here."

you melted under his tongue, feeling a build up in your tummy, jolts of pleasure running through your body. he smirked into your cunt feeling you squirm under him. his hands moved away from your thighs, one coming up to press lightly on your tummy, the other towards your heat, slipping two fingers into your slowly, feeling your cunt suck him in. your grip on his hair tightened , free hand coming up to play with your tits, mark's name slipping past your lips over and over. mark looked up moaning at the sight of you, so desperate so easy for him to use. you were basically riding his face, chasing your own high, letting mark be the first one to ruin you with his mouth. his fingers in your cunt moved quickly, juices helping him ease in and out of you at an inhumane pace, jaw sore from his constant abuse on your clit. you squeezed your eyes closed, mouth hung open as your back arched of the bed,

"oh my- mark, mark, mark, fuck mark, i'm gonna cum, baby i'm gonna cum."

he nodded quickly into your cunt, your juices soaking the lower half of his face, urging you to finish on his mouth. mark thought he could eat you out forever, removing his fingers to taste your release, licking at your entrance. you pushed his head away overstimulation too much for you to handle. he licked his lips, smiling wide at you,

"let me go again, please? you're so fucking sweet princess."

how could you say no?

[bo0tleg]

One thing I like about Top Gun (1986) is how believable the development with Ice and Mav's dynamic is.

I've seen a lot of the "Rivals suddenly become buddies after traumatic event together" in media, but I don't think I've seen it done better than in Top Gun. Mostly, I attribute it to how much build up it has.

Most of the time, the 'Rivals' hate each others guts throughout the entire movie/series and then they go through an extremely traumatic event that binds them for life and shifts their entire concept of each other. Ice and Mav never once changed how they saw each other, it just changed their understanding of it.

Ice saw Maverick as dangerous and Mav saw Iceman as stuck-up and commanding. And they weren't wrong, by any means.

From the beginning, they have tension between them because of how different they are. And it ends up in the audience seeing Ice as the 'Antagonist' because that's how Mav sees it, and we're seeing it from his perspective as the protagonist. But Ice was never inherently wrong, in fact he was right.

Other than his first scene, Iceman always has a point in what he's saying. He's criticizing Mav, not insulting him. Sure, he does it in a brash way because masculinity, but he's not trying to insult him, he's trying to knock him down a peg and wake him up to reality. All Ice wants is that he starts to act as a team player, start caring about everybody's safety AND his own, rather than being reckless for the sake of being reckless. But Mav sees it as an insult because he can't process criticism in a healthy way (due to how he grew up). The same thing happened with Charlie, for the record.

And so the strife between the two begins. What I like about it is how it bleeds out of them over time, becoming more settled as the movie goes on. In the locker room "You're dangerous" scene, the tension is palpable. It's obvious they're agitated by each other, and feel the need to prove they're the correct one.

If you pay attention, this whole... demand for superiority goes away as time progresses. They're fine with each other's presence, it's not like they're constantly at each others throat all the time. In the shower scene, Ice dropped all of the aggression and competitiveness from his tone and is instead just laying out what he thinks. He's not undermining Maverick, he's not lecturing him like a child. Iceman is just telling Maverick exactly how he sees the situation in hopes that it would make him realize what the fuck he's doing, but with little hope that it'll actually work.

That doesn't mean Ice is always correct either, he doesn't understand why Mav acts the way he does, thus fails to take into consideration the emotional trauma behind it. Which only causes even more strife.

The entire time, Iceman isn't being a dick for the sake of it, he just wants Mav to stop being stupid (by his standards). And Maverick doesn't understand it because all he gets from what Ice says is insults.

Maverick isn't good at understanding what people mean to say if it's implied, you need to say it to his face. This is the reason he stayed quiet in the shower scene, because Ice finally laid everything out in simple words that he can understand without making it sound like a dick-measuring contest.

Thing is, the tension mellows out. At the beginning, you could see the tension and cut it with a knife. By the middle you can see them getting used to each other without jumping to constantly trade jabs (namely: the volleyball scene, it's just a bunch of guys being dudes, and the scene where Charlie says that Mav flew recklessly in front of the whole class, Ice doesn't comment on it in any way). Over time, they've settled down into their tension without needing to address it all the time.

Then Goose dies.

And the tension between them is still there.

Just because Goose isn't there anymore, doesn't mean their whole dynamic vanishes all of a sudden. You can see their hesitation towards each other (especially Ice), and that's great! It demonstrates that Goose dying doesn't magically resolve their problems with each other in solidarity.

Ice tried to give his consolations to Mav, and is awfully awkward about it. You can see on his face that he wants to say more, but doesn't because he knows it's not his place given their history. And not much is said, but a lot it communicated. (Val Kilmer is a killer actor for this, OH MY FUCKING GOD BLESS THAT MAN)

Even in the graduation scene you can see how out of their depts they really are with each other. A stilted congratulations, that was it. But they're trying, and that's what matters.

A scene I think gets overlooked a lot is the scene right before the Layton, where Ice expressed his worries about Mav to Stinger, and Mav heard him. Because I feel like that was a shift that was more drastic than the Layton itself for them.

What Ice was doing in that scene wasn't doubting Maverick's flying abilities, it was his mental health. Sure, he passed the psych eval, but that means next to jack shit when in a real combat situation so close after his backseater dying. And Ice might be worried that he's gonna be left hanging, but with the way he was speaking I'm more inclined to believe he was more worried about Maverick's wellbeing than himself. Ice almost looked resigned. He knew it was gonna get dismissed because that's the military for you, but he still wanted to try to vouch for Mav to stay groundside, if only to keep his mind at bay.

But Maverick heard him, and as usual, he read it as an insult. He wasn't wrong to assume Ice didn't believe him capable of flying the mission, which wouldn't be a lie, but failed to realize that he had more than one reason to want Maverick on the ground rather than in the air. And for the first time, Maverick believes him.

Up until this point, Mav dismissed all of Ice's so called 'insults' because he was certain in and of himself. But now he isn't anymore.

And it affects his performance in the air. I'm not saying he was as shitty as he was at the start of that combat because of what he overheard, but I am saying that it certainly didn't help matters in the slightest.

So their weird 'stepping-on-eggshells' situation is all over the place by that point. Because they started to care about each other despite not being what one would call proper friends yet. It's establishing a potential friendship by implying that 1. Ice cares about Mav's wellbeing and 2. Mav cares about what Ice thinks.

On the ground, they have the wingman exchange, and their suddenly buddy buddy. Thing is, it wasn't sudden at all.

They've been setting this up the entire fucking movie.

Going back to what I said at the beginning: Ice thinks Mav is dangerous and Mav thinks Ice is stuck-up and controlling. After the Layton, they still think those things because they weren't wrong to begin with. What changed was that instead of seeing it as something that pitted them against each other, it was seen as something that simply was about the other, and that there was no changing it. It could be good.

Mav being dangerous could be good and Ice being stuck-up and controlling could be good, because those were just traits of who they were. By the end of the movie they didn't change how they saw each other, just how they interpreted each other.

And it was built up during the entire fucking movie.

There was a reason to why they acted the way they did with each other because of the stilted interpretation they had of each other. From rivalry to friendship (and perhaps more later down the line), it's glaringly obvious throughout that it wasn't a sudden shift, it was exponential.

That's why I think it was so well developed, because you could see it coming.

[logansdoll]

chimichangas

part two of "jim beam"

CW: suggestive, profanity, Blind Al, takes place after the events of Deadpool 3, reader is going through some stuff, Logan is an animal, Wade is Wade, etc.

"I see you found my stash," Althea smirked, poorly pouring you another glass of whiskey as you sat down at the table.

"Sorry," you sighed, taking a swig. "If I'd known you could tell, I would've asked."

She cocked a brow with a smirk, and you let out a half-hearted chuckle.

She could read you surprisingly well for a blind woman.

"Yeah, no, I wouldn't."

She smiled as she poured herself her own drink, but when the silence settled, she could tll your expression had fell.

"All right, what's on your mind?" she sighed, almost like an order as she pulled up a chair.

You scoffed.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"It may have been a while since I've actually talked woman to woman, but I can still tell when something's up," she nodded, taking a sip from her glass. "And judgin' by the way you're downin' that drink, I'd say it's man troubles."

You nearly choked on your liquor, and she let out a quiet chuckle.

"Of course not. It's not him at all," you quickly assured, not wanting the woman to get the wrong idea. "Logan has been amazing. And if anything... it's me troubles."

She smiled, attempting to reach out and touch your hand, but missed.

By a whole lot.

"I'm all ears."

You didn't know what it was, be it her elderly charm or her comforting presence, but something about her just made you feel like spilling your guts.

You sighed, taking a deep breath before deciding to start from the beginning.

"My power allows me to see the future," you looked down at your drink, solemnly. "Be it seconds or minutes or days, you name it, I can see it... so long as my power is activated."

"Okay..." Althea nodded in understandig.

"But that night... the night everything went to shit... I was asleep... I couldn't see the Sentinels coming."

You squeezed your glass, the self-loathing clawing at your throat like an angry tomcat.

"I tried to save the kids... but it wasn't long before everyone was gone... and I was taken captive."

Your voice quaked, hands trembling as fragmented memories of the bloodshed flashed in your mind.

"I can't remember much after that... and Wade won't tell me the details of what happened to me in that laboratory. But after who knows how long in that chamber I'm stuck in this new world with no way to get back to mine and I just can't help but wonder if I'd just been awake that night then maybe... my family would still be alive... my home wouldn't be destroyed..."

You turned to her, eyes glassy as you sniffled.

"My Logan... not so guilty about what happened..."

Althea sighed, her hand finally finding yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Honey..." she started, her tone warm and forgiving. "Guilt is one of those feelings that feeds on the pain you give it."

Her thumb smoothed over the back of your hand, bringing a sort of grandmotherly comfort to your heart.

"You can't turn back the clock... but you can decide whether you're gonna let this feeling hold you back, or show you the strength you need to keep on living."

You sighed, knowing her words were true, yet still hearing that nagging voice in the back of your mind.

Maybe it's time to leave the past in the past...

"It's Chimichanga Time, bitches!" Wade suddenly exclaimed, bursting through Al's apartment door and striking a pose, waving the take-out bags around theatrically.

"Motherfucker!" Althea jolted, snatching a gun from under the table and taking aim...

Directly at the wall.

Muffling your snickers, you carefully pushed her hand the right way, changing her target to Wade's chest rather than the door frame.

"Jazz hands?" you raised a brow, turning to the man.

"I believe the politically correct term is spirit fingers," he corrected, mater-of-factly. "Times have changed, my dear (y/n). Next thing you know you'll be old Al here a colored."

"The fuck did you just say to me?" Althea exclaimed.

"(n/n)'s words, not mine!"

"Will you shut the fuck up?" Logan groaned, snatching the bags from him and plopping them down on the table. "Eat your damn food and keep fuckin' quiet."

You stood from your chair, walking up to your man and pulling him into a hug.

"Hey, baby," you greeted, resting your head on his chest. "How was your day?"

His shoulders sank under your touch, all the anger melting away as he wrapped his arms around you, placing a tender kiss on your hairline.

"I'm just glad it's over," he sighed, resting his tired head against yours.

It was no secret to anyone that Logan had some serious anxiety when it came to leaving you places by yourself.

And it wasn't that he didn't trust in your ability to handle yourself, but rather he didn't trust the powers that be not to try and fuck his life over for the hundredth time.

Granted, he couldn't really help it when he had to go to work, or assist Wade with his post-breakup, mercenary bullshit...

But that didn't mean he had to like it.

"M'sorry," you cooed, cupping his cheek in your hand. "If you want we can—"

Suddenly, it felt like all the air was snatched out of your lungs, the image of a bunch of thugs flashing in your mind, along with the door being broken down.

It was your first vision since being in the chamber.

"(n/n)?" Logan asked, worry spiking up his chest as he lifted your chin. "You alright?"

'Althea!'

Five seconds...

"GET DOWN!" you shouted, quickly kicking over the table and shoving Al behind it just as the men kicked open the door.

Quickly, Wade grabbed a cast-iron skillet off the stove, slamming it over the head of the first grunt to rush in before using it to deflect a shotgun.

"Behind the couch! Now!" Logan barked, shoving himself in front of you and unsheathing his claws as bullets began ricocheting around the room

You dropped to the ground without argument, army crawling away to safety.

And once you were secure, Logan went off, letting out a roar of anger as he charged into the fight.

They come into his home... in his safe haven... and try and take his reason for living?

Heads. Were. Going. To. Roll.

Wade slid across the kitchen counter under the heavy gunfire, grabbing the knife block before flipping over the edge, tossing a steak knife into a man's neck before finishing him off with a bread knife to the dick.

Logan launched himself at the one with the shotgun, not even flinching as a chunk of his shoulder was blown off, still plunging his claws into the man's chest.

Clocking the grunt coming up behind him, he quickly whipped around, sending an uppercut straight through his head.

Out of nowhere, one of the thugs popped up with an AK-47, completely spraying the couch while Wade handled the dumbass with the baseball bat.

'(Y/N)!'

"RAAAAAAH!" Logan bellowed, furious, as he sprinted toward the one responsible, tanking countless bullets before slicing the gun to pieces and proceeding to absolutely maul the poor bastard.

Wade hit Baseball Douche in the face with the knife block before dodging a swing, stabbing him in the chest with a butcher's knife before turning around and throwing it at the head of a man going for Althea.

But when he whipped around to finish off Baseball Douche, Logan was already there, stabbing him right through the head and spraying blood all over Wade's face.

"Oh, God! Oh, God, time out!" he whined, dropping to his knees as he covered his face. "Got bad guy blood right in my open eye. Oh, that is gross..."

As the dust began to settle, it became eerily quiet, all the enemies seemingly dead.

"(n/n)?" Logan panted, chest heaving and heart panicked as he glanced around. "(y/n)?"

Slowly, you rose from behind the couch, unharmed.

"I'm okay," you assured, a little shaken up, but otherwise alright.

"Althea," Wade sang, wiping his eye with his shirt. "Are you dead?"

"I wish," she groaned, hoisting herself up from behind the table.

Without another word, Logan sped toward you, retracting his claws before pulling you into a bone crushing embrace—one you reciprocated with just as, if not more, relief.

"I thought I lost you again," he exhaled, relishing the way you felt in his arms, hands sliding all over you to squeeze what could've been taken away from him.

"I'm right here, Logan," you cooed, carding your hand through his scruffy hair as he nuzzled his face into your neck, breathing in your scent. "I'm right here..."

Though, unknowingly to the other, you both were going through your own forms of consolation.

You had protected your family from a tragedy you couldn't before.

He had saved you from the fate that befell countless others from his past.

Both were beginning to realize that maybe this new life really could be different.

Working together to protect and save one another...

Learning to love without fear of separation...

Forgiving the past mistakes that made you who you are today...

Growth that could only be attributed to absolute trust in each other.

"Heyo!" Wade gasped, a smile stretching on his face as he stared at the ground. "The Chimichanga Gods have spoken."

The rest of you turned to face him, watching as he fished a bloody take-out bag out from under the body of a dead man—who looked like he had mush for a face.

"Tonight... we feast."

"You are fucking disgusting."

[ysobelfours]

Lando's First Win — LN4

in which your boyfriend won a grand prix for the first time in his career.

lando norris x fem!reader

warnings; 18+ content !! MINORS DNI !! half of the story is SMUT, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), clubbing, drunk lando, praise, hair pulling, oral both receiving, and etc. word count: 3978

note: not proofread, not edited, will maybe; also, this oneshot has no mentions of y/n!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

i was glued to the tv, watching the race like my life depended on it. man, i wish i could've been there in person, but nope, some last-minute work drama had me stuck at home. so there i was, heart pounding like crazy as i saw lando leading the pack, holding onto that sweet p1 spot with just 10 laps to go.

after a nail-biting ten laps, lando clinched his first-ever grand prix win in miami, crossing the checkered flag with style. bursting with excitement, i immediately sent him a message to offer my heartfelt congratulations. and of course, i had to capture the historic moment, snapping a quick pic of his finish on my tv screen and sharing it with the world on my instagram story.

amidst the interviews, podium celebrations, and photo ops with the mclaren team, lando's mind kept drifting back to one thing: my message. he couldn't shake the anticipation of reading my words of support, knowing that even though i couldn't be there in person, i was cheering him on from afar.

finally, as the chaotic whirlwind of post-race activities began to settle, lando seized the opportunity to check his phone. with a quick swipe, he navigated to his messages, looking for my name. his heart skipped a beat when he saw my name.

"hey baby! can't believe it, i did it!" lando greeted me as soon as i picked up his call. i could tell that he was smiling from the tone of his voice.

"oh my gosh, lan, i knew you could do it! you were incredible out there!" i excitedly responded to him.

"thanks, baby! it feels unreal. i'm just so pumped right now!"

"you should be! you deserve to celebrate this big win. any plans?"

lando pauses, thinking "hmm, not really, just thinking of winding down, you know?"

i frowned upon hearing his response, how could he not celebrate his first win properly?!

“absolutely not! you were on fire out there! you know what? you've got to celebrate this win properly." i rolled my eyes as the words came out of my mouth.

lando laughs, "yeah, baby? you think? got any suggestions?" he asks eagerly.

i started to think and an idea popped up in my gorgeous, genius mind! fortunately, i was done with the work assigned to me.

"hmm, how about a little victory party at the club? you deserve to let loose and enjoy the moment, along with the grid, ya know?!" i giggled, hoping that he would agree so i could push through with my plan.

lando considers it, "you might be right, sweetheart. but i'm not sure…" he sounded sarcastic on the other line, probably just to tease me. i sighed and rolled my eyes, again.

"come on, lan! you've worked so hard for this. make some memories! trust me, you won't regret it." i demanded, hoping that he would agree now.

lando was obviously smiling "alright, you've convinced me! let's do it!"

"that's the spirit! now go have some fun, and i'll catch up with you later, lan, okay?":

“sounds like a plan! love you, baby!”

"love you too! enjoy the celebration!"

as lando hangs up, little does he know that i've already booked a two hour long flight to miami along with a suite, determined to surprise him and celebrate his victory in person. with a mischievous grin, i start packing my bags, thrilled at the thought of seeing the look of surprise on his face when i show up unannounced.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

inside club velocity, the atmosphere pulsed with energy as lando, surrounded by his fellow drivers, basked in the euphoria of his first grand prix victory. the music thumped, mingling with the cheers and laughter of the crowd as they toasted to his success.

lando, wearing a grin that could light up the night sky, raised his glass in a toast, his eyes sparkling with joy and gratitude. around him, his friends and teammates clapped him on the back, their voices blending into a chorus of congratulations.

as the night wore on, the celebration only grew more spirited, with lando at the center of it all, soaking in every moment of his well-deserved triumph. little did he know, an even greater surprise awaited him, one that would make this unforgettable night even more memorable.

as soon as i finished getting ready, i messaged carlos to ask him which club they’re at.

me: "hey carlos! hope you guys are having a blast celebrating lando's win! which club are you all at?"

carlos: "hey! yeah, it's wild here! we're at club velocity on south beach. you should come join us!"

me: "awesome, thanks! see you there!" with carlos's reply in hand, i quickly went inside my rented vehicle, my heart pounding with excitement at the thought of surprising lando and joining in the celebration of his first grand prix victory.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

i got to the club as quickly as possible. still making sure that i wore my signature carol h. good girl scent.

as i approached lando, i noticed his glazed eyes scanning the crowd, seemingly lost in a haze of alcohol. but then, something shifted. his brow furrowed in confusion for a moment before his expression softened, and he inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring slightly.

suddenly, his gaze sharpened, and a spark of recognition ignited in his eyes. "wait… i know that scent," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the music.

a smile spread across my face as i watched him, knowing exactly what he was sensing. then, in an instant, his face lit up with realization, and he turned towards me with newfound clarity.

"it's you, baby! it’s you!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with delight as he lunged forward to envelop me in a warm embrace.

relieved and touched by his recognition, i hugged him back, feeling the tension melt away as he held me close. it was a moment of pure connection amidst the chaos of the club, a reminder of the bond we shared.

as we pulled apart, lando's grin was infectious, his eyes bright with happiness. "i can't believe you're here, baby, you’re really here" he said, his voice filled with genuine surprise and gratitude.

i chuckled, shaking my head fondly. "wouldn't miss celebrating with you, lan. even if you're a little… tipsy."

lando laughed, a sheepish expression crossing his face. "yeah, maybe i went a bit overboard."

"seriously though, you're swaying more than the palm trees outside and your words are starting to sound like a foreign language. i think it's time we got you home, don't you?"

lando slowly nods sheepishly "yeah, you're probably right. i guess i got caught up in the moment." he giggled and pinched my cheek.

“i missed you so much, baby. i love you” he whispered in my ear, lightly biting it. i couldn't help my cheeks from turning hot after what he said.

i struggled to make up my words before i responded, “i missed you too, lan. i love you.” i gave him a peck on the cheek and ruffled his curly hair. he smiled at me, a smile warm enough to melt my heart.

“let’s get you some rest, lan. say goodbye to the grid.” i guided lando to stand up, his hand wrapped around my waist to help him navigate his way through the crowd.

“hey guys, i just wanted to say a huge thank you for being here tonight to celebrate with lando. it means the world to him, and to me."

"of course! lando's victory is something we all wanted to celebrate together!" carlos smiled and gave lando a pat on the back.

"absolutely, it's been an amazing night. but right now, my love needs some rest. take care, everyone!"

as we exchanged farewells and well-wishes, i couldn't help but feel grateful for the support of lando's friends. with smiles and nods all around, lando quickly waved goodbye and thanked his fellow drivers.

as we navigated out the club, lando's whispers filled the air, his words a mixture of adoration and drunken rambling. "you're so beautiful, baby" he murmured, his voice filled with affection. "and i've missed you so much."

i chuckled softly, feeling a wave of warmth wash over me. "i've missed you too, lan. but let's save the sweet talk for when you're a bit more sober, alright?"

lando nodded earnestly, his gaze locking with mine. "yeah, you're right, baby. but seriously, your smell… it's intoxicating. i can't get enough of it."

grinning, i squeezed his hand gently. "thanks, love. i'll take that as a compliment, even if it's coming from a slightly intoxicated mind."

with a sheepish grin, lando leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear. "i mean it, though, my love. you always smell like home to me."

as i opened the door to the shotgun seat, lando stumbled slightly as he climbed in, his movements slowed by the alcohol. with a patient smile, i guided him into the seat, making sure he was settled before reaching for his seatbelt.

as i leaned over to fasten his seatbelt, lando took advantage of the close proximity and planted a quick, sneaky kiss on my neck. the unexpected gesture sent a tingling sensation through me, but i brushed it off with a playful roll of my eyes.

"behave yourself, lan," i teased, my tone lighthearted as i finished securing his seatbelt.

with a mischievous grin, lando giggled and leaned back in his seat, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. i closed the door with a soft chuckle, taking a moment to compose myself before heading around to the driver's side.

as i settled into the driver's seat and started the engine, i couldn't help but smile at the lingering warmth of lando's kiss against my neck. but with a shake of my head, i focused on the road ahead, determined to get us back to our hotel safely.

as lando drifted off to sleep beside me, his face softened into a peaceful expression. i couldn't help but admire him at that moment. here was a guy who'd poured his heart and soul into his passion, and tonight, it had paid off big time.

i thought back on all the blood, sweat, and tears he'd poured into his career, the late nights at the track, the tough races, and the moments of doubt. but through it all, he'd never given up.

now, as he slept, i saw a sense of calm wash over him, like he'd finally achieved what he'd been working towards all this time. it was a pretty amazing feeling to witness.

at that moment, i realized how lucky i was to share this journey with him. and as i stole glances at him sleeping, i couldn't help but feel a wave of pride for everything he'd accomplished.

as i shook lando awake, his sleepy voice sent a blush creeping up my cheeks. "hey, love. did we make it to the hotel already?"

i managed a smile, trying to hide my embarrassment. "yeah, we're here, sleepyhead," i replied softly, guiding him out of the car.

lando leaned heavily on me, his arm draped over my shoulder. it was a struggle to help him towards the elevator, his weight making each step a challenge.

"you're amazing, baby" lando slurred, his words sincere but slightly garbled.

i chuckled, feeling both amused and touched by his compliment. "just doing my best, lan" i replied modestly, navigating us through the lobby.

lando's closeness sent a flutter through me, his arm around my neck, dangling through my breasts as we walked made me feel the way i felt earlier when he kissed me on the neck.

as we reached the suite, i gently guided lando towards the bed, urging him to lie down and get some rest. but to my surprise, he resisted, his eyes pleading as he reached out to me.

"i don't want to sleep yet, baby" he murmured, his voice laced with a hint of longing. "i've missed you so much."

my heart skipped a beat at his words, a rush of warmth flooding through me. despite his drunken state, there was an intensity in his gaze that left me breathless.

"i've missed you too, lan," i whispered, my voice barely above a hush as i met his gaze.

“c’mere, beautiful” lando patted the space next to him in the bed, asking me to sit down beside him.

there was a charged silence between us, the air thick with unspoken desires and yearning. in that moment, it felt as if time stood still, the world narrowing down to just the two of us in the dimly lit room.

and then, almost as if on instinct, lando's hand reached out to cup my cheek, his touch sending a shiver down my spine. the intensity of his gaze held me captive, drawing me closer until our lips were mere inches apart.

without a word, our lips met in a tender, lingering kiss, a silent expression of all the emotions that had been building between us. it was a kiss filled with longing and desire, a silent promise of what was to come.

"so beautiful, my love," lando mumbled in between our kisses, his voice thick with emotion. "you don't know how long i've waited for this."

his words sent a thrill through me, igniting a fire that had been smoldering between us for far too long. with each touch of his lips against mine, i felt myself melting into him, consumed by the heat of our passion.

our kisses deepened, each one more fervent than the last, as if we were trying to convey all the pent-up longing and desire that had been simmering between us for so long. "tastes like heaven, baby" lando murmured between kisses, his voice husky with desire.

"i've missed this so much, lan" i confessed, my breath hitching as his fingers traced patterns along my skin.

lando paused, his touch gentle yet charged with an electric intensity. "i've missed this just as much, baby," he murmured, his voice filled with emotion. "more than words can say."

his hands roamed over to my wet panties that sent shivers down my spine, igniting a hunger that burned hotter with each passing moment. "you're so beautiful, and wet for me, baby" he whispered, his voice filled with reverence as he started to play with my clit.

i arched into his touch, wordlessly urging him closer, craving the delicious friction of our bodies melding together. "don't stop," i pleaded, my voice barely above a whisper as the sensations threatened to overwhelm me.

two of his fingers slipped inside me, and i found myself clutching his hair. “don’t stop, lan. more, please,” i urged, my voice tinged with urgency and longing. and, as always, he delivered without hesitation.

“so wet for me, and only for me, baby,” he murmured against my skin, his tone raw with desire, igniting a primal spark within me.

lando's eyes darkened with hunger as he drew nearer, his breath a tantalizing caress against my ear. "you're mine," he whispered, possessiveness lacing his words, sparking a thrill of excitement in my chest. "all mine."

a shiver of anticipation ran down my spine at his words, a silent agreement to the intensity of our connection. "yes, lan," i responded softly, the words barely escaping my lips, "only yours."

with a shared understanding, he guided me onto his waiting mouth, each movement charged with unspoken longing.

“want to taste you so bad, baby,” he growled softly, his breath warm against my skin as his tongue danced with mine, exploring every curve and crevice with eager reverence.

“tastes damn good, pretty girl,” he rasped, his voice a husky murmur of appreciation as he savored the intimacy of the moment.

with every lick, i felt myself edging closer to the end, our bodies moving in sync, a symphony of pleasure and desire. he quickened the pace, driving me towards the edge until i was teetering on the brink, my senses ablaze with sensation.

"fuck, lan. i’m so fucking close," i moaned, the words tumbling from my lips in a breathless plea for release.

i hit my breaking point, just lost in the moment, riding that wave of pure pleasure, my voice echoing in the silence of the room.

as i caught my breath, i gazed at lando with a sense of wonder, gratitude swelling in my chest for the connection we shared.

“c’mere, pretty. take my pants off for me, will ya?” he said, his voice tinged with anticipation. and without hesitation, i obliged, eager to reciprocate the pleasure he had just given me.

as i removed his pants, his eyes locked onto me, filled with unmistakable desire. when he pulled out his length from his boxers, i was taken aback; it seemed even bigger than before.

lando noticed my gulp as i stared at him, clearly turned on by my reaction.

without warning, he guided himself into my mouth, gently gathering my hair into a makeshift ponytail as he directed my movements.

"i missed this fucking mouth," lando grunted, his hand instinctively moving my head forward and backward until his length reached my throat.

“ah, fuck, baby, your mouth feels incredible,” he moaned, his eyes closing in pleasure as he savored the sensations. releasing his grip on my head, he allowed me full control.

i licked the tip of his shaft teasingly, before gradually taking him deeper until i reached his base. “you're so fucking beautiful like this, love. such a good girl, taking me fully” he struggled to praise, his words punctuated by moans of pleasure.

each sound he made spurred me on, igniting a deeper desire within me. with passion driving me, i gave him my all, the rhythm of my mouth against his cock filling the room.

“so good with your mouth like this, love. fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he thrust his hips, his movements growing more urgent.

“baby, i’m about to cum,” he warned between moans. i yearned for him to finish so we could move on to the next stage; my anticipation palpable.

“i’m cumming, baby. fuck, i’m cumming. you’re so fucking good at this, my love,” he smiled appreciatively as i swallowed, clearly impressed and aroused by my eagerness.

turning me around, he instructed, “on your knees, my love.”

"lando," i breathed, my voice a mix of warning and longing, almost on the edge of a whine. my legs remained spread as i faced away from him, fighting the urge to squirm, my patience wearing thin.

lando's grin widened, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as his hands pushed my legs further apart, positioning himself at the entrance of my wetness.

"you look stunning from this angle, love," he hummed, his voice laced with teasing sweetness. "you need me badly, don’t you, love?" his length traced over my folds teasingly, sending shivers down my spine.

though i hesitated to admit it, i couldn't deny the truth as my hips involuntarily bucked upwards, a strangled moan escaping me when he pinched my clit.

"i need you," i whimpered almost shamefully, my head falling back in surrender. "so bad, lan."

"i need you inside me," i mumbled, making his smirk return.

"missed you so fucking much," he hisses, parting my legs further as my breath got faster.

"missed you too, lan" i assured him, a moan slipping past my lips as i felt his tip pressing against my folds, though he made no further movements. i pushed my hip back to feel his length.

his hand tangling in my hair and creating a makeshift ponytail ─ one he tugged on immediately, forcing my head up.

"use your words, m' love" lando's lips grazed my ear, his cock still lightly pressing against my entrance, causing me to cry out.

"i want you to fuck me," i whined, rushing my words out as my hips pressed backward.

"need you, lan, please," i whimpered, sounding desperate.

he entered me without warning, bottoming out as my walls wrapped around him, our gasps mingling as i gripped the bedsheets below.

"always taking me so well," lando grunted in my ear as his thrusts became rougher, deeper, ensuring i felt every inch of him.

every movement sent pleasure coursing through my body, my moans filling the room as i surrendered to the pleasure.

"you feel amazing, lan," i stumbled out, my eyes rolling back as my body melted under his touch.

lando, too, seemed lost in the sensation, his head thrown back as he moved with purpose, the sound of our bodies colliding filling the room.

"does it feel good?" his question was rhetorical, just a way to chase praise, but i could barely form coherent thoughts, let alone sentences.

i nodded, the only response i could manage in his hold.

"damn, you're just perfect, baby," lando grunted, his kiss on my shoulder was gentle compared to what was happening between my legs.

it was almost too much, the tears and whimpers making it clear i was close to another climax. and just the thought had him reaching his own peak.

"cum on my cock, baby. cum for me," he urged in my ear, sending shivers down my spine as my second orgasm hit. i practically screamed, going limp in his arms.

feeling me tighten around him had him climaxing too, groaning as he leaned against me, both of us catching our breath.

his touches became softer as he pulled away, guiding me to lean against the counter. we fell into a comfortable silence, his hands gentle on my waist.

"wanna hop in the shower?" lando's voice broke the quiet, a grin spreading across his face, and i felt a wave of relief.

i grinned back and nodded, and he chuckled, lifting me effortlessly and carrying me off to the bathroom.

after a relaxing shower together, we dried off and crawled into bed, exhausted yet content. the weight of the day's activities and the intimacy we shared left us feeling pleasantly worn out.

"baby, that was something else," lando chuckled, his arm wrapping around me as he pulled me close. his laughter was infectious, echoing the contentment that filled the room.

"definitely," i agreed, snuggling against him. the warmth of his body against mine was comforting, a tangible reminder of the bond we shared.

in the morning, we woke to the gentle rays of sunlight streaming through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. the tranquility of the moment was almost tangible as we lay intertwined, basking in the quiet stillness of the early hours.

"morning, love," lando greeted me with a smile, his eyes filled with affection as he pressed a tender kiss to my lips. the warmth of his lips against mine was a sweet welcome to the new day.

"morning, sleepyhead," i teased, returning his kiss with a playful grin.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

hope u enjoyed reading my first fan-fic <3 feel free to give prompts and request !! enjoy !

[prael]

c'est la vie - Kim Minju

Part 3 of folie à deux.

IZ*ONE Kim Minju x Male reader smut. (ft. a sprinkle of Wonyoung)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

Masterlist word count: 10,553

c'est la vie - that's life

"I'm so fucked."

Fists clenched and eyes scrunched, you’re venting out loud to no one in particular. You repeat it, "I'm so fucked." Louder this time—to the sky. Well, more accurately, to the plastered ceiling of this little hole-in-the-wall. Either way, the solution isn't there.

It isn't at the bottom of a bottle either, but you're determined to find that out the hard way.

"Is there a friend I can call for you?" The woman behind the bar has stopped polishing off the glasses; interrupted by what she would say are the ramblings of a madman.

"There's no coming back from this." You throw your head forward, catching it in your now open hands, elbows resting on the wooden bar top.

"Sir? I'm going to call you a—"

"I don't need a cab." You draw your head from your hands and open your eyes—allowing the light to pour onto you from one of those little round lights above you. The drink sits in front of you, unfinished. Hard liquor in a tumbler just waiting to be thrown back like the three before it—a plea you can’t ignore. The large ice cube rests against your nose as you pour every last drop onto your tongue and swallow. "I do need another drink."

With the glass set back down, your body slouches and sinks. Eyes stare down at the empty glass and your face is cold to the world, cold to the woman across from you. You must reek of self-pity, the smell thick in the air. 

Let’s be honest, you've had far better days.

She's got her delicate fingers around the neck of the bottle, pouring you a fresh drink and placing it on a napkin, "you know, you're not the first person to stumble into this bar wearing a face like that."

You slide your eyes over to the glass and reach for it. "I highly doubt it."

"But, few of them show up this early, even if it is a Friday." She has a point: you’re propping up the bar alone and drowning your sorrows solo. In fact, there are only two other people in this whole place, sitting together at a table. "So what’s your story?"

"Does there have to be one?" You grip the glass in your hand, giving the stranger the best smile you can fake.

She steps back and brushes her hand on her trousers as she laughs, "I've seen many broken men and women sit at this bar and spend too many hours drinking their life savings, with hearts broken, dreams smashed and most of all, mistakes they regretted. But you seem different."

"Oh really, why's that?" Your eyes stare into your drink. It stares right back at you.

"You're still young."

"Does being broken have an age requirement?"

She shifts and reaches for something, something you can't quite make out, being locked in the most intimate of stares with your drink. It’s the sound of her placing down another fresh glass that gives it away. "Actually, yes. Because you've still got time to work with."

"That's the irony. All I have left is time."

“Then you have to believe in yourself to make the most of that time.” Her words are heavy, like their meaning holds weight within her too.

She lets you dwell on it for a moment while she pours her own drink. She settles herself against the bar top, across from you, resting her head in one open hand. Her gaze burns into you like sitting in the sun. You can feel something else too, a soft vibration in your pocket.

You finally break away from your staring contest with your drink—one you lost anyway—to fish your phone out of your pocket. The screen alights with Gaeul’s name and is followed by the words ‘1 new message’.

After a swipe, it reads, ‘wtf where are you? what happened?’ but the thought of sending a reply never crosses your mind. And, just in case, you switch it over to silent.

“Is that her?” The woman gently waves a slender finger towards your phone as you put it back where you found it. “The reason you’re here?”

"Do you press all your customers like this?"

“Only the interesting ones,” she returns her hand to her glass, taking a sip of it before continuing, “and there’s sadly so few of those.”

"And if I'm not as interesting as you think?"

"Then I'll buy you a drink.” She tilts her glass at you. "For the trouble."

"And if I'm fascinating?"

"I'll still buy you a drink." Another sip from her glass as her lip gloss stains the rim, "maybe two."

"Then no, it wasn't her." And here's the thing, you don't know who to blame. Yourself? Probably. Wonyoung? Maybe. The mystery cameraman who got it all on video? Almost definitely. 

“But it is another woman, right?”

“It’s complicated.”

“I’m not exactly rushed off my feet here.”

You sigh, unsure exactly where to begin with this whole mess. The complete story is a long one. You could tell her about your family—the trouble at home and why you had to leave—but that’s not for anyone to know.

"I transferred here. Moved here with my brother. He's at work right now, and he will be late into the evening." You pause to take another drink. Another burning sensation. "To keep food on our table and keep me in college." 

Even saying so little it weighs on you, the feelings of regret and the feeling that you're saying too much. You bite your tongue and hesitate.

"So why are you here and… you know... not at college?" She pushes you for more. She flicks a finger towards you with her free hand and then brings her glass to her lips.

You drag your eyes up for the first time and finally inspect the woman across from you.

She's your age, roughly—if you had to guess. She's pretty, and that part you're more confident about. She wears her long brunette hair over one shoulder, running in a loose wave, over her slate black blazer, which sits over a small black tee, cropped at the waist. She smiles when your eyes meet hers. And maybe she had no idea, and perhaps it's all subconscious, but the tips of her slender fingers squeeze slightly against the glass now that you're paying her some attention.

"I never got your name," you say with curiosity laden in your voice.

"Minju."

"And why is a young woman like you working here on a Friday afternoon?"

"Were you not the one telling me about your troubles?" She follows her words with a soft laugh.

"Call it quid pro quo. You answer and then I’ll tell you all about it," you say.

"Fine." She stands back upright, adjusting her blouse with a few gentle touches. The way her finger glides across the collar and tugs at it slightly. It's more than a little distracting. She cuts a sleek hourglass shape out of the shelves of bottled booze behind her. "I'm between gigs right now."

"Gigs?"

"Ah." She waves a finger. "My turn."

Minju tilts her head and then rests her palm against the bar—leaning toward you and eyes focused. It’s like an inspection and you instinctively sit up straighter.

"So why are you here?" she asks.

"Expelled. About..." You bring up your wristwatch into view. "About an hour ago."

Her brows go up a fraction and her eyes narrow on you again, almost as if to accuse you of lying to her. But her expression softens almost instantly. You would never notice if not for watching every second in painstaking detail. Her widening eyes reveal to you the thoughts passing through her mind as she racks her brain for a reason you would be expelled.

"You said that you're between gigs, so what is it you do?" you say, shifting the focus back away from yourself.

"I sing. I dance. I model. I act." She pauses with a bitter look. "However, right now, I serve drinks." You get it; she looks the part. That much is clear. She's far too gorgeous to be spending her time polishing glasses and serving screwdrivers to burnouts at happy hour. She looks every bit like a woman who should be so much more, but this isn't Hollywood, and the storybook tale of the waitress who makes it is so cliché.

You swill the last of your drink around in the glass, watching the little tidal pattern inside. The way the ice cube moves with the current, it hypnotises, entrances. You speak, looking down into the amber-hued ocean within your glass.

"And you have the talent to back up the looks?"

"So they tell me." There's no joy in the words or the tone. No pride or smug sense of achievement. If anything, it's dismissive. “It’s just a slow period. That’s life.”

“C’est la vie.” You catch her gaze as you utter the phrase under your breath.

Minju continues despite you, “but things will turn around soon enough. I'm going places."

"Every actor who is going places never seems to get there." Maybe it's the alcohol or maybe it's because, right now, you hate this city and everyone in it, but everything that comes out of your mouth is uncharacteristically curt.

And look, you regret it as soon as it leaves your mouth but that doesn't change the way you just dismissed her. It wasn't meant personally, but it's hard to stop your thoughts from curdling into words right now.

Minju is quiet, and the air becomes heavy. You swallow deep and finally look her in the eyes again. There's something there, some little flicker of emotion untold that gives her away for a moment. She is a woman told repeatedly that she has the world at her feet, but the hard truth of it is that she's here, working away behind the bar because, in fact, life is a lot more cruel.

Absorbed by her vulnerability, you feel the need to backtrack, "that's not—"

"So what, you look at me and see nothing but a girl who couldn't cut it?" There's a flash of fire in her eyes. A burn. A spark that sets the sky alight. A very attractive spark.

The way she fires it back. The passion in her words. The tension building between you as your eyes linger on each other.

You can't explain the attraction, but you can certainly feel it.

"No," you fire back without hesitation, leaning towards her, "what I see is a woman working two jobs just to afford a place to live." Your confidence rises with the alcohol pumping its way through your system and you do your damnedest to rescue the situation. "What I see is a girl with stars in her eyes and a dream that somehow she still keeps alive where so many more have given up. I'm not judging."

Silence.

Sudden, silent, and slightly sinister.

"Yeah, you were," Minju's eyebrows arch in amusement, "but that's fine, I'll take my turn now."

As she leans forward, there are words on her tongue. She looks ready to bite back, but she's looking over you, across the room, watching the only other two people in the bar leave. And for a minute, everything is held in suspense, you are locked together in silence, the clap of their shoes echoing through it. Then the sound of the door, and the brief exposure to the outside world, it's the rain pouring and the cars passing by and then it's the slam shut. It's just you and her, Minju, alone under the dim of the lights.

"So what was it?" she finally breaks the silence.

"Hm?"

"What got you expelled?"

You could lie. There's an opportunity for that. But what's the point? Even though she's a stranger, it doesn't feel like there's a risk if you just come clean and spill your dirty little secret, besides, you owe her one now.

"I got caught fucking in the library." The truth comes out plain and simple. It’s a brazen statement to make in the middle of the afternoon to a stranger. Her gaze shoots down at you. Whatever she expected, it wasn't that.

"I’m sorry, you were caught fucking in the library?" She repeats it out quizzically as if she’s taking time to process. Minju has this way of talking—a lilt in her voice. She has a tone and a pitch that rises and falls with each word. She's amused, that much is clear, by the slight smirk that has curled a corner of her mouth to accompany her sound.

"We were alone, or at least we thought we were, and it’s not like we hadn’t done it before, but apparently, there's evidence." You gesture your empty glass at her, a secondary conversation, unspoken but clear that you need another drink before you tell her anything else.

In doing so you see how she tenses her lips together, holding in her laughter at the thought. She’s holding and you’re watching until she finally cracks, her grin wide and laughter loud.

"Now I am the one judging you. You made fun of me for trying while you're too busy swinging your cock around to even try. So, you tell me, who is the stupid one here?"

"Alright I deserved that one." Your hand had been holding the empty glass to her but now you bring it to rest against the bar top. "In my defence, it's not like I had much of a choice. That girl..."

"Here we go. Let's see how you justify this one." She finally takes your empty glass and when the edge of her fingers brushes across the back of your hand, they linger for far too long. And when she draws back, dragging away those long, delicate fingers from your own, you find yourself suddenly cold.

"It's not like I could turn her down if I wanted to. Also I would never have done it in the library if she didn't make me."

"She 'made' you. Go on." There's scepticism in the words. Her mocking tone teasing you as you watch her turn to the shelves behind her, eyes scanning the possibilities.

"No one says no to her. Never."

"Wow, sounds like quite a woman," she says, ever more playful, as she reaches for the top shelf. Her blazer is pulled up now, ever so slightly exposing her back above the waist of her trousers. Trousers hugging the subtle swell of her hips. Her small, tight, round ass is defined through the fitted fabric. You can't look away.

"Everything comes easily for her. There are literally men fighting for her affections. They would die for her," the words tumble from your mouth, as your gaze lingers.

You must have been lost in the daze and absent-mindedly following the contours of her thighs because by the time you shift focus to her face, she's peering at you from over her shoulder. Eyes sharp as daggers, as if to say it’s a little too obvious.

"Wow she sounds like a real piece of work. I know someone like that too. " Minju turns with bottle in hand, hair swirling around her as she does so. She's graceful. Unbothered and unhurried by anything. "This one is perfect. This bottle is older than me."

She pours two fresh drinks with more ice in each.

"Am I going to regret this in the morning?" you question as the weight of the glass finds your hand.

"You might. But at this moment? No."

You trust her, somehow, inexplicably; you do.

She asks, “so, what will you do now?” it’s a question as funny as it is difficult to answer. 

The truth is that you haven’t got the slightest clue. You tell her as much and try to explain it as best you can, and her eyes soften as you share the details. It’s supposed to be a back-and-forth—quid pro quo—but she’s pressing you with question after question: how long have you known her? Is she pretty? Where does she see you in all of this?

“You and her. Still a thing?”

Minju is on your side of the bar now, sitting by your side with little caution about personal space; there’s not an inch of space between you. Her thigh presses against you and her upper arm is flush with your own.

"Me and Wonyoung were never a thing, not really."

Minju stops dead and chokes, holding her throat, and forcing the drink down. Her whole body shifts. She nearly falls off the bar stool and, after steadying herself, she stares blankly forwards.

"Wonyoung? Jang Wonyoung?"

"Yeah, her." The new drink meets your lips and its taste is a hell of a lot richer than the cheap stuff you were pouring down. It’s laden with a smoky taste over sweet tones.

There's a silence even after you finish taking a drink. Something untold hangs in the air. You know it. She knows it. She's here on the verge of telling you something, but what? And you sit here and wait, despite the racing of your heartbeat.

"I should have known." Minju shakes her head, laughing, but without a smile.

"Should've known what?"

"You're Wonyoung's new toy. I should have guessed as soon as I saw you, she has this effect on people."

You stiffen at that. It's always the truth that hurts the most and the fact is you really were just a toy. A convenient dildo.

"You know what you need right now?" She twists on the stool, and suddenly, you've got Minju looking straight at you. Eyes locking with you. Right there. Looking up at you. So close. Right there, leaning back ever so slightly so her chest arches towards you, accentuating her small breasts, straining against her shirt.

"Drinking helps," you reply, raising your glass.

"Yes, but so does fucking."

That’s a line. It’s one that shouldn’t come as a surprise because a girl like this probably has a lot of experience in being wanted, so who is to say she can’t turn the table for once? But in one breath you’re giddy, taken out of yourself and feeling drunker by the moment. Not on the booze, but her. She is intoxicating.

It takes you a few seconds to notice but her free hand slips on your leg, rubbing and caressing as it snakes further and further up.

"What?" You ask as if it needs confirmation and in those long few moments, you think you must have imagined it. And the same way a nervous laughter rises, the laughter spilling out of your throat, she is quick to quench the growing dread inside of you by sliding her palm across your bulge.

"Wait here." Something has switched inside her. You don’t know what, but either way, it's got her standing up and strutting towards the door. With each step, she opens her body language. A growing swagger, letting you see the sway of her hips. Left and right. Just enough to catch the eye. And oh boy, does your eye get caught. You couldn't pull your gaze away now if you wanted to.

She's swiping hands at the door now and flicking the locks. Then she's pulling the blinds shut. A giggle comes from Minju as she spins back to face you. She runs her bottom lip through her teeth and stares right into you.

You feel exposed but, strangely, comfortable. It's so very odd; with no clue as to what happens next. It has your heart pounding out of your chest.

"I thought you were alone tonight because you were upset, but no, I understand it now. You're frustrated. Angry. Stressed. She used you and got away with it."

She kicks off her heels, loses a few centimetres in height, and is walking barefoot across the floor - toward you. Her shoulder rolls to one side and then to the other as her body rises and falls, sashays with the pace of her hips. She can see that you're stuck. You’re rooted to the seat with a dumb look on your face, and yet she saunters ever closer.

“I am a little confused,” you finally say. She's so close that all your senses are lost to the approach of Minju's swaying frame. Her curves, her body, her gentle steps, the way her perfume smells—it's consuming you.

She ignores you and continues, "I’m frustrated too. I'm so frustrated that I'm wasting time in this damn bar. I'm angry at all the auditions that ended up with producers rejecting me. I know exactly what you're feeling. You're angry at the world and everyone in it." Her tone grows raspier. More raw and less stable. "You feel alone. Hung out to dry and in need of attention."

"And you feel the same?"

"Yes, and I'm hungry. Starved of any real satisfaction. You told me I’m going nowhere and I guess it means I need a little attention, too."

You watch her eyes flittering as she looks you up and down. The sultry grin she wears shows she likes what she sees.

"So what are you going to do about it, Minju? What is the solution?" You drop a look down to the soft and slender flesh of her neck.

"No strings. We get this all out of our system." Minju leans in. Lips so close to yours. She stays there. It's torture. "You let all that shit out. Take out your pent-up stress, frustration, anger."

"On you?"

"Exactly. You'll feel better. I will too. Because right now…" Her nose presses against the side of your own. Soft skin. Gentle pressure. "I need it rough."

Her hand lands on your thigh again, rubbing down the denim of your jeans.

The offer is enticing. It has your head swimming with dirty images of everything the two of you could do together, and your cock? Well, that's already twitching in your underwear.

"This isn’t going to help, it will just make things worse."

"Can they really get any worse?"

Minju brings your hand, hers and yours, to her waist. Your thumb feels the soft material of her shirt, and your fingers touch that small patch of skin below it.

"Are we prepared to find out?" Your lips graze gently against hers. The thrill. The electricity in the air.

"I’m ready. More than ready. Just this once, do what you want to do and make me the star of your fantasy. Use me. Make me everything you need." She plants her lips firmly on yours. You both go quiet, muffled by a kiss.

Nothing to do but feel.

Minju's grip tightens on your leg, and yours on her waist. The other hand slides up to her chest, finding her breast, cupping it and feeling her. She opens her mouth. And you follow. Your tongues are colliding and sweeping across one another, eager and desperate.

So you push, guiding the two of you to stand. Minju staggers back, and you're with her every step of the way. Stumbling through a kiss. Hands everywhere. Uncertain. Lost, confused, and passionate. It's an incoherent tumble that takes you both crashing through chairs, pushing them aside until you hit something sturdy. Minju's ass slams against the pool table and she grunts into your mouth.

Her lips drag away and she smiles. "Fuck me."

You grab her by the hips, lifting her onto the pool table.

"I need to see the big cock that’s got Wony all worked up. She wouldn’t settle for anything disappointing." She's fumbling at your waist, struggling with the buckle of your jeans.

"This what you want?" Your words vibrate through her. And when you take a handful of her hair and tug, there's a long, soft, desperate sigh from Minju's parted lips.

"Use me. Abuse me." Her fumbling finally succeeds and the waist of your trousers slackens. "I know how I look, but don't worry, you're not going to break me."

She's pushing at your trousers, your boxers, and when that stiff dick pops out, her smile spreads into a big, stupid grin. It's not an unattractive expression—not really. It just tells the truth. She is excited. 

It’s as clear as day that you are too. You’re rock hard, stiff as hell, ready to fuck, and this, this will give you the chance to let it all out. All of it.

"Perfect." Minju grabs your cock in both hands, still warm, throbbing, and strong. "Just look at this thing."

You pull on her hair again, harder, until she breaks away from you, until she gives way—losing the grip on your cock and falling back on the table. And now you slow as if to savour the moment as you’re sliding your fingers under the waist of her trousers. Not often you get afforded a measure of control.

"C’mon, please, don't be gentle," Minju moans out through gritted teeth. The desperation is painted on her face and that’s the difference here: while a girl like Wonyoung wouldn’t let you go slow, Minju is the type of girl who makes you not want to go slow.

So you pull at the trousers of the girl sprawling out in front of you, tearing the button from the fabric, yanking them open and pulling them down those long, slender legs. The flesh is soft. And to touch, so smooth and light. Minju's breathing picks up—becoming shorter and deeper with each touch to her sensitive skin.

"I might leave marks."

Minju stares you down, hands already massaging over her panties. "I hope you will."

The thought is intoxicating, so much more so than the alcohol in your blood, as your hands paw over her legs; you knead soft skin with a kind of aggression you haven't felt before.

Minju is a rare girl.

Beautiful. And by definition, beautiful women have seen it all before.

But her?

The look she gives? Like no man has ever fully satisfied the itch within her. It's deep-set hunger. The kind that she chases endlessly for.

This hunger makes people behave stupidly, careless and forgetful of the consequences. And maybe you know that all too well but even still it's a risk worth taking. Every choice has led you here and maybe that is your solace, that it's not all downhill from here.

And as your hands reach her small satin panties, the warmth embraces you, and the urge within you grows. You hook your fingers inside and draw the panties aside to expose the tight pink flesh of Minju's cunt.

Not that you would expect anything else, but she is clean-shaven. So smooth. Not a single blemish. This is a girl who kept herself neat and pristine, and yet from her mouth spills utter filth, "just look at how wet this pussy is for you."

She's running her fingers between her lips, showing you everything she has to offer between her legs, showing you where she expects you dick will get put to use.

"This tight fucking cunt can take everything your thick cock has to give."

"Minju, you’re so..." You're standing over her, her legs spread wide beside you, blazer falling from her shoulders leaving nothing covering her but that low-cut top.

Minju stares right at you, eyes fixed, wide and eager, her chest heaves with every deepening breath she takes in. She's wild, reaching for you with one hand, stretching to hold you and then pulling at your shirt to draw you in.

"I'm so needy. Please fuck me." She's whining through closed lips as her other hand slips away from her pussy and glides over her taut abs and leaving her cunt ready to be used. She wants it, desperately, and you're drawing it out. Making it build inside her, and you hold your cock in your hand.

You're stroking, and she's watching. And for all her strain to pull at your shirt, to pull you into her, you hold back. You hold just long enough. Enough for her arm to fall limp. Enough for her to almost give in. "Please..." she trails off with a whimper.

You push the head of your stiff cock against her cunt—against her clit. Your hips roll as you run the entire underside of your cock between her lips. She gasps and breathes deeply. She's holding it all the while. All the time it takes for you to draw your cock back, so the tip is right there. Ready.

She let's go as you do. The air escapes her lungs with a sharp squeal. You let your cock sink in. Slow but persistent, you push further and further, feeling her tensing. Then the clench and tightness overwhelms. She gasps and squirms, wriggles beneath you and her nails scratch at the fabric of the table beneath her.

You push again, sinking your cock as far as you can through her wet hole.

There's a loud snap and squeal from Minju. Pretty girl broke a nail. It flew off somewhere across the room, such is her grip onto the table. "Fuck. So fucking full," she manages, barely. It's more the noise you force from her than any actual communication.

You draw your hips back and she's quick to encourage you, "again," she says.

Your hips are driving forward again, pushing every last centimetre back through her.

Minju whimpers. There's this short, sweet purr from deep within her. You feel her stretch, she moves a little, adjusting herself atop the pool table. There's a warmth that swells, tightens, and pulsates. And you feel the breath come easier. It leaves her as though her body has settled to a kind of ease and pleasure, some form of satisfaction.

You refuse to let her rest. It's not what she would want.

It's not what you want.

You run your hands along her inner thighs, past her knees until you finally reach her ankles and pull them together and hold them aloft. You lift and pull her ass up slightly from the table. She's suspended now while you fuck into her.

The shake of her small frame is completely erotic. Watching her ass and thighs jiggle as you fuck into her. That plump little ass taking slap after slap from your hips.

Her perfect skin reddens as her moans louden the longer you last. There are high-pitched squeals and low and gritty growls. They bounce around the empty bar, reverberating and multiplying—echoing back louder than before.

"Harder." She thinks she can take more. Look, Wonyoung was demanding, she wanted to control everything and push your limits, but Minju? Minju is whole different type of demanding. She's welcoming everything you have with every fibre of her being. Her pussy so eagerly taking it all, and it just seems like no matter what limit you push past, or the more Minju takes, the more she craves.

You pull her legs to you, calves on your shoulders, feet in the air, and your hands move firmly onto her hips. You steady her—ready her. Your grip bruises the tender skin (hey, it's what she wants) and then you fuck her like your life depends on it. Your cock pumping inside with reckless abandon.

"Keep going! Just like that! Fuck!" her voice rises over the rhythm of your low grunts, and the crack of your hips slapping against her ass.

Minju's face twists, red and flushed. She's so tense. Muscles tight around the neck and her teeth buried in the soft flesh of her lower lip. Her voice is low and raw, growling, as she pleads for more with words you can't pretend to understand. It's not eloquent or graceful... In fact, it's that incoherence that makes this all the better—so utterly unbothered, unconcerned with anything other than being thoroughly used, fucked and defiled.

She has that hungry glaze in her eyes when you look down upon her, a girl being exactly the kind of filthy thing she promised to be. And those eyes only draw you in, you're pushing over her, folding her legs further against her body until she's truly helpless. Pinned to the table. Bent in two. No ability, nor want, to stop you from dominating her.

"I'm gonna—" she tries to speak until you press down, right into her. She squeezes your cock inside that tight, creaming hole. Then she whines, loud.

So loud.

Her back would arch high if it could. But she can't break free. You have her completely immobilized with your upper bodyweight. And fuck does she love every second of it. She's got handfuls of her shirt, pulling it, clutching, writhing. Ecstasy courses through her and eyes roll.

And now she's rolling, you're turning her. Ankles in your hands, you have pulled out and you're flipping her onto her front, face down into the table. She’s just… accepting it. Not an ounce of fight in her. Not even a word. Just a throaty moan.

"Be a good girl for me, won’t you?” you’re ordering, “give me your hands.” 

She reaches her arms back over her subdued body and lets you take her delicate wrists.

She submits.

Just lying there prone, her delicate body against the table, with that tight little ass perched on the edge of it, and that skimpy underwear still pushed aside for her throbbing cunt. Those slender legs left hanging either side of you. And go on, you're allowed to think it in the simplest of terms; Minju is sexy. In a word, that's it. Sexy. And yet, the reality is there's so much more you can say. Every soft curve of her toned body is alluring, she is magnetic and inviting, and that cute face peering over her shoulder, long hair spilled all behind it. All the words in the world couldn't do justice to describe her—couldn't properly capture the image.

"What are you going to do to me, daddy?" Oh, she says it so seamlessly, slips it in like it's been on her lips for a while - floating in the atmosphere since you took control. And now that it's finally landed, you feel its weight. It has her voice different; smokey and dripping with sex. And it hits you straight between your legs. 

She licks her lips and tests it out again, just for good measure: "what does daddy think I deserve?" 

One hand holding her wrists against the small of her back, another gripping her hip. Her legs sway lazily, unable to reach the floor. Helplessly dangling, waiting for her fate. And you're not a man to disappoint a girl like Minju.

"I'm going to use the needy little slut in front of me," you say as the head of your stiff cock probes at her cunt, slipping between her wet lips and sliding against her swollen clit. Teasing her. 

You draw it back up again and pushing apart her ass cheeks with the length of your cock. Slipping under the thin fabric of her soaked panties.

She bites her lower lip and whimpers through her teeth. The head of your wet cock slides against her tight asshole, and her hips twitch back. "Whatever you need, take it from me." She means that. There's yearning in every word. The hunger and desire in her voice growing thicker.

You push against her, cock sandwiched between her cheeks, pushing your weight down and pressing her against the table. Her eyes close for a moment, her fingers curl into her palms.

"Yes. Fuck," Minju's desperate encouragement spills through clenched teeth.

You pull back your cock and replace it with your thumb, sliding your hand over her ass and slipping it against her puckered hole.

"Please da—" You slip the tip of your thumb just inside her ass and hold it there while she holds her breath. 

Anticipation— 

Waiting— 

Knowing what's coming next. 

Minju is completely still as you drive your cock into her cunt again. Sinking yourself in so deep—balls deep. Her hands become tight fists and her whole body is shaking. You withdraw and plunge again, and she hisses, breathing from the bottom of her lungs, ragged and shallow, and fighting to speak.

"I'm a dirty, needy, little slut and you’re going to use me—"

You spit at her spread ass, right onto your thumb, and use it to dig a little deeper. "What are you?" your question provokes an instant answer,

"I'm a horny slut. I'm a fuck-hole. That's what I am."

As if it's a reward for her honesty, you fuck her a little harder. Push your thumb a little deeper. She smiles through a howl of ecstasy, the sound swelling into the room.

"Tell me again," you command with another pump of your hips, stretching her even more with your thumb.

Her words crackle, dying in her throat with each impact of your hips, "I'm just a dumb girl who needs to be full of cum."

No sane man would refuse it. Not you, not anyone. Definitely not you at all. You couldn't resist any part of her, but especially not that filthy demand. Especially not with how you felt watching those gorgeous fucking curves ripple every time your hips slapped against her ass.

It's all so easy, how you continue, keeping pace. Thumb deep in her ass. Balls smacking against her soaked pussy with every thrust. It's a pleasure all too overwhelming—a thrill, a sensation, a powerful sense of utter fucking satisfaction and all-consuming desire—an erotic overflow inundates, a swell, an ever-growing crest inside your balls.

"Minju. I'm. Gonna—"

"Cum in me? Please." She's the hallmark of innocence-gone-wrong; the way such words roll off her tongue with playful ease. And she knows all the right ones. The ones that she knows will bring all the right reactions. To speak to you on a primal level. She's at it again, cutting into you, "Inside— Inside me."

Cutting through you like the blade of a knife, right to your core and you obey—fuck.

"Daddy please."

You're incensed.

Dogged with the pounding you're giving her, you have lost control of just how deep you have your thumb in her ass. This is so Indecent. Obscene, even. For you, or for anyone, to just... enjoy something like this. Your body is roaring with lust as her ass and cunt both squeeze on you, clamping you as you drive yourself to the brink.

"I wanna... feel your hot load," her voice comes shaking through the unabated pounding you're inflicting. "Fill me please," she's begging and it sounds a little clearer now, stronger, a little louder, no doubt because she knows it's almost done.

You tug at her wrists, pulling her arms back and her body away from the table. Her head hangs forward beneath a wave of hair. Face covered by sweat streaks across those pretty sculpted features.

"Please, I'll be a good girl and take every drop. All the fucking cum that daddy has. Make me your stupid dirty little slut," she compels, then yelps with every new slam and stroke of the stiff cock being buried into her again and again.

That tight asshole, and that cock-hugging pussy. All the relentless slamming that you have done and will do. All the desires, with the pent-up frustration, the rage and anger and tension that has built up—you release it. Everything goes as you send your load rushing through your cock to paint her insides.

Pushing everything you have in. Pumping. Driving hard.

Her squeals are like music to the soul. Relief and rapture are overflowing. And fuck. What a ride. What a rush. You pump her full until she's gasping for air, struggling in your grasp and making sure to moan each and every dirty word into the atmosphere as she fights to hold on. What a thrill. And as the two of you hit the limits of physical exhaustion and exhilaration, you pull back. Letting the girl lay there, spent, and filled, on the pool table.

Used.

Satisfied.

Sullied.

Minju to you, today, is a feeling of freedom. Fulfilment. Absolution. As she lay limp, arms out, legs hanging, hair draped over her face and pooling on the table—a girl well fucked and on display. She is satisfaction. And she is dripping with your cum.

She slips her fingers under her panties. That shrivelled piece of fabric that clings, or struggles to. Now she pushes them off her hips and they tumble over her feet.

When this beautiful girl speaks her voice has the distinct scratch of someone whose lungs have had the oxygen stolen from them, her throat sore with moaning, "I need more."

She moves to her back and you can only watch in amazement as she turns to you with that flush face. One of her small, delicate hands falling between her legs and her dainty fingers tracing around her cunt—through her pink folds, and dousing them in your leaking cum.

There's a knock at the door. It rattles in the frame. "Open up!" It's the voice of the young man seeking an afternoon drink. You think that, luckily, hopefully, between the blinds, the posters and the neon lights in the windows along with the dim lighting, he can't see in.

"Fuck off!" Minju shouts. Her chest is heaving, and there are the gentle lulls of a giggle welling in her throat.

You notice she hasn't moved the fingers away from her swollen and sticky cunt. There's a building cackle, almost as if she is going to fall into hysterics.

"Let me in! You should be open!"

"I said fuck off!" Minju's climbing from the table with a wild smile on her face. Cum is trailing from her cunt, pooling, oozing, dripping down her thigh, down her leg. Her tongue slides over her lips, she's eying you up like a tiger.

"I want to ride your thick cock." She's breathing the words out heavy and finally pulling that shirt over her head. Small round breasts exposed. Stiff dark nipples. Hard and taught. That bare torso. Tight and tone. Firm and solid. Every muscle defined under glistening, sweaty skin.

She pushes herself against you until you push between a pair of stools and your ass plants against the bar. "You made me a dirty girl, and now I can't stop."

You find her strength a little unnerving, the way seems so unphased and determined. She's running on pure adrenaline. It's hot, sure, a kind of raw passion is certainly not without appeal, but also maybe a touch too overpowering. The way that she grabs at you, a touch forceful, and the way you come together is perhaps too rough and less than elegant.

So unkempt, un-romantic, yet so insanely gratifying as her soft skin finds yours.

You take her body in your arms, lips on one another, exploring mouths with tongues. Grasping the round cheek of her ass as she lifts her left thigh up to your waist. Hand trailing between the two of you and then grabbing a firm hold of your cock, guiding the thing back to her pussy—and not letting go.

This is it. This is where she belongs.

It’s all so natural for her to be on the end of your cock, so much so that she can casually pull away from the kiss to switch her focus to finding a drink on the bar behind you. She’s taking a drink of it now and some of it spills from the corner of her mouth.There is something undignified in that, but utterly perfect nonetheless.

She's grinding against you now, swirling her hips and cooing like a little kitten, as your hands move over her ass and that silken smooth back.

Minju sets the empty glass back down on the bar, and pulls back to meet your eyes. She presses a finger to her tongue, her eyes gleaming and focused solely on you, as she guides a small, playful trail of drool to run over her glistening tits. "Fuck," she breathes through a grin, taking both her hands and smoothing that drool over her chest.

Another knock at the door. Another fist pounded into its frame.

All these fucking interruptions.

"Ugh! Fuck this. Come on, follow me." And before you know it, she's guiding you across the room. "I'm going to ride you until I can't walk. Until I'm so sore that every step will remind me what it felt like to have you deep inside me."

Your phone rings, on the floor in the pocket of your trousers. Who would call right now? Just as one interruption finally concedes at the door, another emerges.

Minju bends to fish it out of your trousers. Her little ass, one cheek marred with a handprint from your grasp, is so close you could bend forward and eat it (any other time, you would.) but it's not that which intrigues you the most. When she rises, slowly, your phone is in her grasp, screen displaying Wonyoung's name.

"This should be fun," Minju chuckles to herself. She swipes the answer button and raises the device to her ear. "Hello?"

Minju reaches out to hold your hand and pulls you toward the staff only door. "Sorry, he's a little busy right now," she says as she walks through the door with you in tow. Her head pivots. Minju stares, eyes boring deep into yours. That sultry expression. The spark of desire igniting all over again.

Minju turns on her heel, letting you go and taking a step back. Thin fingers stroke over her cum-soaked thigh, up and along her wet lips, higher and past her flat stomach, sliding between her firm tits. "He is really busy."

She points at the couch in the break room, gesturing you to sit. You oblige, a little nervous about the turn of events. She's rubbing at her perky little tits as she speaks, "do you want me to take a message?"

"Minju..." you say with warning, ready to take the phone off her. But it's so hard to ignore how utterly sexy she is, and your hand starts to stroke along your shaft. She turns her body and poses, looking over her shoulder to you, and she grins. Minju affords you all the time you need to admire her while she listens to the ramblings of Wonyoung through your phone.

Minju steps toward you, looking down at you. "You need to speak to him?" She rests a hand on your shoulder, and then she clambers over you, straddles you. Her leaking cunt right above your cock. She licks her lips and rubs her slick pussy over your stiff dick, eyes focused on you, head tilted down. "Give me one second."

She holds the phone against her collar and shifts above you, resting the tip of your cock against her hole.

"Minju, let me—"

She sinks onto your cock. 

Inch by pleasurable inch, she takes you. Minju rocks forward and adjusts to settle on the length of your rod. Fully hilted and stuffed. She's a slick sheath of velvet on your stiff rod and you realise then just how perfectly she fits on you. You bite your tongue, trying to not make a noise so you don't alert the woman on the other end of the phone. Minju, however, is careless, and she lets out a soft moan as she shifts on you, readying herself.

Cum still seeps out of her cunt and down your shaft—your own and hers in some messy cocktail. The smell is sharp but unmistakable. It hangs in the air as the unmistakable evidence of what has happened and what will happen again. It’s so potent; invigorating and exciting. A reminder of everything and more, as if you would ever forget it—as if you could ever forget what she has become for you.

Minju draws the phone back to her face and, with a cocky smirk parting her lips, she speaks again, her voice breathy and full of lust. 

"He's in a bit of a tight spot right now." She throws you a wink and continues, "give him ten—wait, no—give him fifteen minutes and whatever is left of him is all yours."

There's the sound of a voice coming through the phone, so unmistakably Wonyoung's but you can't make a word of it out. There's another sound, one much dirtier, that fills the air between the two of you. The soft squelching as Minju rocks and rotates those full hips on you.

"Sorry, what was that?" Minju is stifling a giggle and not-really trying to keep the naughtiness of the situation in check. "Yeah, Wonyoung,you’re right. It's me, Minju," she purrs, biting her lip as her eyes fix on you. Then her tongue flits from her lips, sweeping from left to right.

‘It's me, Minju.’

Look, it’s not really a surprise that they know each other well. It was always a possibility that Minju had just heard of Wonyoung but had never really been acquainted. Thinking back, however, the strength of her reaction to the girl’s name should have told you everything. The truth is now ever so clear. 

Not that Minju is going to let you process it. She will not allow you to focus on anything other than the caress of her pussy over your sensitive cock. She's elegant with the movements of her hips—the motions subtle and slow. Her pace is sinful. She's running her tongue over her teeth and staring at you, enjoying the quiet grunts that rattle from your throat.

"He showed up in—" Her breath hitches and she catches a moan in her throat before it escapes. "In the bar, drinking alone."

There's a gasp, then another as she strokes her hands through the locks of your hair. "Yeah. He was doing that." She's laughing under her breath and looking you up and down. "That thing with his hand, yeah, it's cute."

“What? No. I wouldn’t.” You’re getting half a conversation and none of it makes any sense.

She reaches out her hand to the side of your face, thumb brushing the line of your jaw and her body leaning in. "He's got a sexy jaw line," she admits and then picks up the speed of her movement. 

Her hand slides down your neck and presses into your collar. "His body?" Minju hums as her hips are churning; her body is rolling and her abs are flexing. "Yeah, I think so too."

Minju's back arches and her tiny tits bounce as her movement changes, bouncing rhythmically on your cock. She's adjusting and getting more comfortable on you. As the seconds pass, she's getting rougher and moving ever faster. 

Fuck.

"Well, he's drunk, so it's no surprise."

It's been no end of strange situations over the past couple of months, but this may well be the strangest yet. The girls are having a friendly conversation, but one is on top of a cock that's dripping with her mess.You're still trying to piece it together. They're friends—that much is clear. But there's still so many questions unasked: How? Since when? And why are they having their catch up right fucking now?

Her delicate frame moves fast now and the rise and fall of her chest growing sharper leading to short breaths.

"Mhm," she utters, keeping her voice low and words at a premium. "N—No we aren't." To give her credit, she's actually very good at sounding natural. In some twisted way, it's one hell of an audition for how talented of actress she can actually be. 

But that image comes crumbling down before your eyes.

Just for a moment, the picture freezes. Her mouth is half-open, eyes wide. She bites down on her lip, silencing herself, and then she drops her hand from her ear. She's hitting her fist, clenched around the phone, against her thigh repeatedly as she fights against her own body. There's another choked grunt as she is being pushed ever so close to the edge.

She draws the phone to her face again, breathing in deep and staring at you with those glossy eyes scanning all across your body, and she swallows. 

"We aren't fucking," Minju denies, as your hands creep up from her slender thighs, sliding over those beautiful taut hips, gripping tight and helping pull her back and forth. It's clear, from the way she bites down on her bottom lip, the subtle trembling of her chin, she's hanging on by a thread, ready to lose it at any second.

"No. Don't—" Minju holds the phone out, and she’s looking at it—you can see it too—Wonyoung has just ended the call. "Ah fuck it." Minju throws the phone down on the couch.

She looks at you with a face that's a little lost in thought, considering things unknown to you. All while her body is on auto-pilot, still fucking down onto you. 

After a moment, her face changes, an expression of indifference, of calmness. She smiles a little and rests both of her hands on your shoulders. Staring deep into your eyes, she grows ever more serious with a tinge of intent. She shifts from auto-pilot to manual, tightening the grip with her legs and slowing the pace, but fucking you harder.

Minju rides the ridge of your cock. Your whole length is dragged up and down her insides, setting every inch of you on fire. She moans every time she slams onto you. 

Every time. 

She's falling further apart in front of you—coming completely undone. Eyes rolling and biting that lip again. Hips shifting in all kinds of directions. A cacophony of beautiful grunting sounds that flood the room.

Minju is a woman derailed by pleasure.

"God. Your cock— Your cock is—" She's struggling now and you're only going to make it worse. Using the hands on her hips, you buck yourself up into her, bringing yourself a fraction closer each time. 

"The things this cock— the things you— fuck." Minju has no power to string any kind of sentences together, no matter how many words you force from her. They grow less and less like words you can understand until all that remains are these loud and unashamed gasps. 

Gasp after sharp and unstoppable gasp.

The rush of exhilaration courses through her, from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes. She feels it. All over. It's written on her face, in the way that she moves and in the look in her eyes. A look like that is a hard thing to fake, even for her—there's nothing else like it. Minju is cumming all over your cock and every bit of it is evident in every tense muscle, the quiver in the corner of her mouth, the sheen across her brow, the mist in her eyes as she blinks lazily and tries not to be overcome, overawed, with emotion and all the intense sensations, one wave after another, rippling through her.

You're just about there again too. You try to warn her, but you're fucking up into her with so much energy that you're not sure if the words ever left your mouth. But she knows it, somehow, because she has renewed aggression in her. Even through her orgasm, she's bouncing on your cock with such ferocity. Minju takes hold of your head and draws you into her. Nose to nose. Foreheads touch. "Cum in me again."

They're four of the best words she could have said.

She rides you faster still as you pump rope after hot rope into her cunt, your entire length filling her already overflowing cunt. You cum so hard inside her that the world seems to distort, twist, and wane.

"Yes! Yes!" she shouts in a whisper—her voice stolen by pleasure. "Fill my little pussy."

And with every last ounce of strength you have, you continue. Bucking into her, driving deeper with the last throes of your second load. It's too much. It's beyond pleasure and into pain now, as you have nothing left to give her.

You squeeze at her hips and waist, holding her down and doing everything you can to stop her fucking you.

You're panting. Tired. Done.

Done.

Minju raises herself just enough to slip that ruined and swollen cockhead from the depth of her. You watch as your combined fluids flow out of her onto your leg.

All that filth, a dirty combination of the two of you. Two loads of your cum drained into that one pretty pussy.

Minju is stroking a hand up your stomach, your chest, along your neck and jawline. Across your face and to your chin, so slowly, as if memorising your features.

You watch her body, so fucking perfect, flexing and trembling still and her breasts heave beneath sweat and exertion. Her breath is so ragged that a chuckle emerges between the hard, deep inhales and exhales. She's sweating, perspiration painting her body and strands of long hair matted to her head. So beautiful. Always so fucking beautiful.

She looks into your eyes, studying, thinking. "You feel better now," her voice has returned to the softness of before, low and sultry. "Don't you?"

With a smile, your hands move again, wandering further up. They snake their way around her slender waist. There's something strange, something new, about how they explore her—before, you were quick to set them and demand control. But not now. Now, it's tender and grateful and you have a slow, searching rhythm to the touches that skim the skin across her skin. 

"Yeah." It's honest. You do. She has done her magic, she has restored the balance, and the release has cleared a space within the self, within the mind. You stare back into her gaze, "thank you."

"No." Minju brings her head forward, her face almost colliding with yours. "Thank you. This is exactly what I needed, I really—" She bites down on her lips and hesitates. She pauses for a second before she begins to move herself off you. Standing up straight, wobbling for a moment on the spot before stepping off and the sticky remains of your fucking cling to her inner thighs, glistening on the flesh, thick and trailing down from her hole.

She stares at you for a moment in some profound silence. You sit on the couch, on that musty old fabric, fully spent and staring. She's searching for something, eyes drifting over the room until it catches her eye, and she heads right for it.

You find the strength to stand and as you do, you’re still watching the sway of her body—noticing each bounce of her perfectly formed butt. Your eyes linger, appreciating the body that was given to you, enjoyed by you, and that gave so much to you. Your strength slowly builds from within, your legs are sore, your stomach and core are aching, your lungs feel crushed.

She's fumbling around on the table for something, she's leaning over slightly, her thighs pressed together. She wears sex like a crown—the pride, confidence, and accomplishment manifesting in her natural glow. Minju radiates. There's always something so electric about a woman in the post coital haze.

"You smoke?" she asks.

"No."

"You should," she says as she turns, fishing one out of the pack and perching herself on the edge of the table, crossing over her legs. "Makes you less nervous. You might need it."

There's an elegance in the way she slips the filter between her lips. An attractiveness in the casual way that she places the box down. With practiced poise, she flicks her wrist with lighter in hand so it flips open and her thumb runs against the sparkwheel. Once, twice, and on the third go the light takes and the flame holds steady. Minju lights the end of the cigarette and leans in, taking a deep draw and holding it.

It's mesmerising to watch. The way her mouth closes around the stick, how the soft glow dances upon her features. A darkness in the hollows of her cheeks as the smoke fills within, while she flicks the lighter back closed and slides it on the table.

Minju tilts her head back as her lungs empty, billows and tendrils escape into the room.

In the silence, you've had some realisation.

Minju is cool.

Like— really cool.

So you stand naked, facing her, in the breakroom of the bar she... works in? Owns? Hell, you don't even know that. Doesn't matter. And you finally ask her, "how do you know Wonyoung?"

For a long moment she just smiles, blowing smoke towards you, teasing with silence.

"We go way back," she says, and that is hardly the complete answer that you've hoped for. 

Eventually, she offers more. "High school. We were friends." Minju studies the cigarette, eyeing the burning stub. "Guess you could say we were closer than that. Fuck. If not for—"

Silence.

And yet you wait.

"Well, there was this boy," she continues eventually, offering a soft and resigned smile. "My crush, and then my boyfriend. He was my first. First kiss, first date. First—" Minju looks over to the wall and inhales hard on the cigarette again. She breathes in slowly and you watch the small ember dance, the edges turning amber and glowing bright before she brings the cigarette down and flicks ash in the tray.

"What happened?" you ask, taking a seat alongside her on the table, pushing a cup aside to make space. It's not exactly hygienic, but nothing the two of you just did was.

"Wonyoung happened. Right before we left school, he left me for her and he thought he had a chance, but, well, you know Wonyoung. She's unattainable."

"You blame her?"

"Fuck no. But it didn't exactly bring us closer. He left me for her, she rejected him. What a mess."

There is always something when Wonyoung is in the picture, a messy little tangled web, something hidden behind those silky smiles. She's the reason for many lost loves and many lonely nights. You take a pause to appreciate that fact—to see what's really at the core. She’s the common denominator. Wonyoung—the arrogant heartbreaker.

"So what was all that about? On the phone?" you ask, trying to make some sense of it all.

Minju laughs aloud, tilting her head back and blowing smoke up towards the ceiling. She holds her cigarette between her slim fingers and rests her other hand on your thigh. "I wanted to play with her a little. I wanted her to know. Because well, and no offense, but you’re one of her possessions. She basically owns you. Don't get me wrong, it's kinda hot, but I wanted to see how she would react."

"So you teased her."

"Pretty much."

She laughs a little. There is some spark in her eye, born out of childish fun.

"Don't think she cares," you shrug.

You both turn toward the door that leads back into the bar. You both heard it. Out there. The knock against the front door of the bar.

Minju turns to you, crushing her cigarette into the ashtray beside her. There's a smirk on her lips and amusement in her eyes. In that look alone, there's a lot to unpack; there's an air of knowing, a glimmer of deviousness, and something else lurking beneath the surface.

"Then why is she knocking on the door?"

Next Part

[smusherina]

bridges burnt - chapter 4 [epilogue series] (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: When an invitation to Gretchen Wieners' wedding ended up in your mailbox, you'd been sure it was a mistake. Only, it read your name in neat, swoopy calligraphy. It was addressed to you. And Regina George, whom you hadn't spoken to in years.

additional clarification: This is set in the universe of yard work, a series of mine that can be found on my page! Reading this one might be a bit challenging without the context of the series :)

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 5

You clapped along with everybody else when the bride and groom made their entrance. You kept a polite smile on your face even as Regina's hand, rested on your knee, had your blood rushing.

The couple would be making the rounds, talking to and thanking guests before speeches were given and toasts were made. Then (finally) the food would be served.

You sipped fizzy apple juice from a champagne flute, leg jittering uncontrollably as you waited for Gretchen and her husband to get to your table. Regina was doing the same, though looking remarkably calmer. Looked like it would take a while, considering the flock of relatives accosting them.

You did not pity them. Those cheek pinches looked painful.

"You gotta calm down," She eventually said, squeezing your leg.

"I can't help it. You know what Gretchen did. I don't even know why she'd- y'know- invite us."

You hoped Regina got your meaning. You'd been broken up for a long time now and it wasn't like Gretchen didn't know. When you'd moved back to town and Mrs George had gotten wind of it, she'd talked very excitedly to all the neighbours about her daughter's best ex living in town.

Gretchen's mom, part of the most pernickety HOA, a soccer mom of extreme intensity and a domineering PTA rep, of course, relayed the information to her daughter—and anybody who'd listen—when she got wind of it from someone. The network of middle-aged women was insane in the area. You digress. There was no way to know this for a fact but you could make an educated guess.

"I suspect it's because she's a heinous bitch," Regina said, casual as ever. "A vengeful, hateful, homophobic bitch."

"Careful, there's ears everywhere." Janis piped up, eyeing the room.

"You know I'm right." Regina defended, eyebrow notched.

"Obviously," Janis made a face like she couldn't believe Regina would suggest otherwise. "But, personally, I wanna get a taste of the menu before we're kicked out."

"Now, that's an idea..." Regina hummed, tapping her chin.

"What's an idea?" You asked. Regina didn't answer. "Reggie. What idea? What ideas are you getting, Regina?" Almost frantic.

"Don't worry your sweet little head about it, babe. I've got everything under control." She teased, pressing a patronizing kiss on your cheek. Your brain made computer whirring noises, blue flashing before your eyes. Rebooting.

"I don't like this," You mumbled into Regina's ear.

"Meet me in the bathroom hallway in five minutes." She whispered back, turning with a coy look in her eye.

You chugged the rest of your drink. Fuck. This was gonna be rough. Shane looked equally nervous but seemed to calm down when Aaron came by. You shook hands very awkwardly. He asked about you and Regina. You told him you were good, that she was good. Maybe your tone was a little too aggressive, leftover from your angsty teenage jealousy, because he settled to chat with his boo from then on.

Five minutes passed very slowly. You eyed your watch for the last minute of it, on the edge of your seat.

"Was nice seeing you, Aaron." You gave a quick, apologetic smile. "Best of luck." Hopefully, that sufficed as an olive branch.

"You too, man, you too," He called after you. You waved behind your back and strode towards the bathroom hallway.

There were too many goddamn guests. You navigated through the throngs of people best you could, muttering sorry and excuse me as you pushed through.

"What the fuck, girl?" You startled when Amanda took you by the cuff. She led you to a nearby wall, so very close to your destination.

"I thought you broke up?" She asked, hissing more like.

"We did. I don't know what's going on."

"Uh, tell her to back off? People are talking that there's, y'know, a very passionate lesbian couple here. Relatives from the bible belt not impressed." Amanda gave you a look, narrowed eyes and crossed arms. "Have you been lying to me?"

"No!" You denied vehemently. "It sounds crazy, I know, but she just came up to me like that."

"And why didn't you, hmm, I dunno, push her away?" Amanda's eyes turned soft. "She didn't treat you right, we discussed this."

"I didn't treat her much better, Amanda." You sighed and rubbed your forehead. "I... I can't say no to her. I- I don't want to say no."

"This isn't good for you." She said as if you didn't already know.

"Yeah. Well." You spread your arms and let them drop listlessly. "You know me, I do a lot of things not good for me."

"You're hopeless." She turned to the rest of the room. "Just remember, you're my ride home."

Your eyebrows rose.

"You sure about that?" You cast a meaningful glance towards the bar. The same guy, still being bothered by the same lady you were pretty sure, kept throwing helpless glances Amanda's way. She was gonna take that puppy home, he was so her type.

"Are you calling me a slut?" She grinned. "If all goes according to plan, I'll text you where to pick me up tomorrow morning."

"Great. Don't get murdered, yeah?" You patted her on the shoulder. "I gotta go."

"I have your back, Jay. Don't forget that."

You nodded solemnly and continued your journey towards the bathrooms. Just as you crossed into the hallway, looking left first, someone grabbed you roughly by the collar and slammed you against the wall.

"What-" You yelped but didn't get any more words out before Regina descended on you. She took you harshly, lips on yours sealed tight like she was keen on sucking the life out of you. Your body slumped against her, mouth seeking hers as she dipped her tongue in.

It was sloppy, a little gross, and loud. Had you been any other person, some innocent bystander, you probably would've been disgusted. But this was Regina George and she was kissing you. That still floored you.

Regina hadn't kissed you like this since high school. When you spent senior prom at your house, cooped up and pretending it didn't matter all the other couples got to dance and have fun while you hid. When you both got so angry that the only way to find release was in each other. When you broke up and decided you were better separate, crying in the middle of intimacy and so, so desperate.

"Keep your eyes on me, jorts." Regina breathed into your lips. You tasted her, something sweet and minty. "You can go back to your little girlfriend when we're done here."

"Huh?" You made a sound. "What girlfriend?"

"The one you were talking to just now." She trailed kisses to your ear. Your eyes fluttered, heart skipped beats. "You got multiple?"

"No, just you, uh, I mean- she's not my girl." You tried to produce full sentences with mild success. "She's here for emotional support."

"What's your relationship with her?" All these official questions while her hands were roaming under your suit jacket, feeling up your back, scratching with her nails. You shivered.

"Friends." You swallowed, panting as Regina sucked marks on your throat. There would be no hope of covering those up.

"Good," Regina said gutterally, voice almost like a growl as her leg pressed between yours. Oh god, was she going to fuck you right here?

"Now, you're gonna be real good for me and do exactly as I say." She kept touching your sides, your hips, your thighs, and you could not take much more. Her lips dizzied you, talking so low you had to strain to hear every word. Her gloss was all over you, sticky and tacky.

"Reg, what the fuck are we doing?"

"We're pretending, baby, and we're gonna sell it." Your stomach sunk. You knew this was some act but having it spelt out like this, that Regina was using you for revenge, stung. She continued:

"I will do everything in my power to ruin this wedding. I have ideas and I just need you to assist a little bit."

"Regina," You sighed and pushed her by the shoulders, lightly and gently. She went willingly, though with a pout. "You're doing it again. Revenge. This is why we broke up."

"We broke up for many reasons, jorts." She retorted, nails scratching at your tummy. You tried to hide your trembling.

"Yes, and- Regina!" She attached her lips to your pulse, where you were especially sensitive.

"Still got it," She mumbled cheekily into your skin, pressing kisses there just to torment you.

"You're horrible," You whined, hands holding onto her shoulders for dear life. Her leg hiked further up on the wall, pressing against you firmly. You kept your hips still, not daring to enter that territory somewhere so public.

You were at the end of your rope. Not much more now and all reservations would be null. You were sure you wouldn't say no if she unzipped your fly then and there.

"You know I am, baby." She squeezed your waist and sucked a hickey right on your jugular.

"Why are you doing this?" You asked, voice weak.

She didn't answer for a while. Just kept touching you, feeling you, kissing you. It was driving you mad but at the same time, you were beginning to feel like the reason didn't matter.

"Good question. Just go with it, yeah?" She breathed, finally pulling away enough to look into your eyes. "You look ravished." She looked so pleased with herself, with a little smirk on her face and her eyes glinting.

"Thanks," You tried to catch your breath.

"Now, we're gonna make out until someone finds us and that'll stir up something." Regina leaned back in but you dodged her kiss, giving her your neck instead. She didn't seem to mind, teeth getting in the mix.

"Y'know there's- there are more effective ways to ruin a wedding than kissing in a secluded hallway." You pointed out.

"Maybe. But this is more fun." She pulled your shirt out of your pants, ruining the careful tuck you'd done. Her hands grabbed at your lower back, nails scraping on your flesh teasingly. She was trying to kill you, surely. You told her so.

"You're gonna kill me, Reg."

"I'd never hurt you." She whispered, sounding more sombre than you would've expected. "You're the exception."

"Why can't you make exceptions for anybody else? Gretchen doesn't deserve this or all this effort."

"Jorts, baby," She brought her lips to your ear, whispering right up against it. You bit your lip not to moan. "You deserve all the effort."

That got you thinking.

"Did I deserve it back then?" You asked, careful, a little too quiet.

Regina paused, hands resting and mouth unlatching. "Yes."

You stood there, breathing together. You were all kinds of messy, so obviously kissed stupid, but you couldn't help the sting in your eyes.

It was dramatic, you knew that, crying over a bygone high school romance. You'd been just teenagers. It shouldn't matter anymore, not at this point when you were both adults. You both had real jobs, your own homes, your own lives.

"I missed you," You said, resting your forearms on Regina's shoulders. You touched your forehead to hers.

"I missed you, too," She said back, just as quiet. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too." It felt like a weight lifted off of your chest. "What should we do?"

"How about..." Regina looked up at you through her lashes. You felt lightheaded. Her lipgloss was smeared in the sexiest way. "We get revenge on Gretchen for all the shit she did in high school, for being a homophobic bigot, and for almost getting Kylie expelled."

"Kylie? Expelled?" That surprised you. You hadn't seen Kylie since her sweet sixteenth last year, which she'd invited you to. You stopped by before any of the guests or Regina got there.

"Gretchen caught her kissing one of her younger cousins at their place. A girl. Obvi, Duvall didn't let it fly but it pretty much outed Kylie."

You took a deep breath.

"Let's give the kids kazoos. And water guns. That will ruin any wedding."

Regina laughed. "Where are we getting kazoos? And water guns?"

"I did some volunteer work as a camp counsellor this summer. There's some good stuff in my car." You got an idea then.

"We can lure raccoons into the reception hall!"

Regina cackled.

Notes: I googled "ways to ruin a wedding" and got some awesome results. Look forward to that in the next chapter!

Taglist posted seperately! If you want to be added, please comment on that post!

[ihrtsevyn]

Can you please write something about Johnnie getting jealous🫶🏼

— JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY . . . 𖤐 | j.g x reader

synopsis small scenario + headcanons of johnnie being jealous !

warnings slightly aggressive behavior?, cursing, lowercase intended, no specific race/gender/age specified. use of gender neutral terms. reader is intoxicated in the scenario. talks of insecurity.

wc 1.3k

masterlist | main page <3

. . .

SCENARIO:

johnnie would like to think that he isn't a jealous person, but undeniably he is. there's not a worse feeling than seeing the person you love fawn over another.

the feeling that grows in his stomach is unsettling, it makes him want to throw up. do you always scrunch your nose up when you laugh? is this guys jokes really that funny? the way you throw your head back and let out a loud cackle makes it seem so, but johnnie fully believes you're putting on a show. johnnie's funny too. you would know if you weren't so busy cuddled up under...brian? brad? whatever his name is, it doesn't matter. that should be him.

jake had been talking johnnie's ear off for the past 15 minutes about a small brawl that happened between two girls, or was it two guys? johnnie couldn't remember, his eyes had been laser focused on you the entire evening, his ears only picking up bits and pieces of jake's story. the sight hurt him, truthfully. it really shouldn't have because you two weren't dating but he did believe there was something going on between you two. an unspoken mutual attraction.

"dude, you haven't blinked once in the past twenty minutes i've been talking to you." jake worriedly mentioned with raised eyebrows.

jake's small comment easily caught johnnie off-guard. he rubbed his eyes with his free hand before rapidly blinking. his taller friend was joking but it was comical to see the emo get red in the face from embarrassment.

"just go talk to them." jake muttered, following his friends gaze. "they're busy, can't you tell?" johnnie mumbled bitterly before finally tearing his eyes away from your form for the first time that night.

he looked down at the solo cup that he maintained a loose grip on, woefully swirling the alcohol in choppy motions. he couldn't even remember what he was drinking at that point. ever since he laid eyes on that familiar face it's all he's been thinking about. you. you. you.

as well as the fact that all of your attention was on some other guy when it should be him.

jake scoffed before taking a quick sip of his drink, head shaking in disappointment. "just go talk to her, i can't stand to see you looking like a kicked puppy all night."

he tapped johnnie's shoulder a few times before escaping off into another conversation.

johnnie's gaze followed jake's form until he was fully out of sight, turning his full attention back to you. what he didn't expect was for your eyes to already be settled on him, making him freeze in the spot.

you offered him a kind smile before waving him over. he hesitated in his steps before taking quick strides over to you. what happened to that guy you were talking to?

"hey." he quietly muttered with a tight lipped smile. "hey, are you enjoying the party?" you asked. from that sentence alone, johnnie quickly came to the conclusion that you were fucked up. your smile was wide and blissful, eyes glossy and spaced out, not to mention the drunken drawl in your voice.

"sure, are..are you okay?" johnnie asked, a worried tilt in his voice. you nodded your head with closed eyes. the way your head lolled to the side and the cheshire grin on your face made johnnie think that you weren't fully aware of how drunk you had gotten.

"have you met my new friend brandon? he just went to go make us some more drinks. but he's so funny, i swear you'll love him." your pronunciation of words was all over the place and you could barely keep your eyes from closing.

oh, right. brandon was his name. johnnie rolled his eyes at the simple mention of the man before sighing and taking the seat next to you. even with your dazed state you could see the clear annoyance on his face. "i think it's time we get you home, hm?" johnnie muttered, eyes softening at your doe eyed stare.

"you don't like him, do you?" you asked quietly, completely ignoring johnnie's last statement. his eyebrows furrowed at your comment, slightly caught off guard by your question. "what? what do you mean? who don't i like?"

"brandon. you've been staring knives at us the whole time we've been talking."

shit. you saw him? "i-i dont even know the guy enough to hate him." johnnie nervously croaked out, his smile fell weak as he avoided your gaze.

"if i didn't know any better id say...you're jealous." you muttered, a sly smile growing on your lips. "what? no! come on, let's get you home, you're talking nonsense."

"don't you wanna wait for brandon?" you asked looking up at him as he grabbed your arm, pulling you up. "no." he immediately answered with slightly widened eyes.

you couldn't help the giggle that escaped your mouth as you leaned into him for support. "you're definitely jealous." you quietly stated another muted laugh following after.

. . .

HEADCANONS:

he gets quieter. johnnie himself isn't the loudest most out-spoken person but when shuffles to the side and stops inserting himself in certain conversations, you'll know something's wrong.

becomes passive aggressive. he doesn't really mean to, it just comes naturally. the person that you seem to take a liking to makes a joke at someones expense and johnnie will find a way to turn it back on them. adding in snippy comments whenever they talk open their mouth and scoffing in disbelief when you laugh at one of their corny jokes.

tries to act unbothered. he'll force a smile and shrug his shoulders if someone asks him if he's okay. his responses are curt and have a monotonous tone, his voice straining sometimes as he forces out an "i'm good." he thinks he looks cool and unbothered when in his jealous state but instead he looks spaced out and miserable. it's very noticeable how frigid his posture becomes, his jaw clenching in annoyance as he stares daggers at whoever is taking up too much of your time.

overthinks. johnnie has been hurt before and he doesn't want it to happen again. his mind starts to go to a dark place and insecurities start to rise to the surface. he hates feeling this way so once he realizes these harmful thoughts are starting to come back he won't hesitate to voice his thoughts to you. you mean a lot to him and he'd hate for your relationship to go off of the rails because of a lack of trust or because of an insecurity that's been uprooted.

will isolate himself. if he's feeling jealous to the point of anger then he'll outwardly avoid you until he cools down. he goes to the quietest place available and is just alone with his thoughts, which isn't the best idea when he's starting to lose confidence in the role of being your boyfriend.

seeks comfort. in all honesty johnnie doesn't get jealous that easily, it's a rare thing. but when it does happen it's kind of hard to pull him out of that self-deprecating headspace. he won't outright ask for your comfort but as you build your relationship and notice his habits, it's easy to realize when he's in need of some reassurance.

he'll become a fidgety and nervous mess. his thoughts becoming more clouded and loud as time went on. half of his thoughts are telling him to grow a pair and the other half are worriedly expressing their concerns about the state of your relationship. he really just needs to hear you say that he's all you want/need.

once he gets that reassurance that he's the love of your life accompanied with an unwavering confidence from you, he starts to feel all better. even a bit cocky when he hears how you fawn over him. his once congested thoughts become clear of any and all doubt and he's suddenly smiling from ear to ear. he realizes how stupid it was to feel any type of jealousy when it's clear that the love you share for each other is equal.

. . .

thank you sm for the request! i really enjoy writing for johnnie lol. hope you guys like it <3 :)

requests are still open if you guys have any ideas :)

[queenquinzel715]

3.1 Halforc Rothwell

Wrd count 2,469

Princess (Y/n) P.O.V.

When I turned fourteen I knew things were going to change in the worst possible way. I saw the royal doctors leaving my mother's chambers, and her ladies in waiting looking down so upset. I had just turned sixteen when I got woken by my mother's closest lady in waiting telling me to come quickly. I sat with my mother for an hour when she finally let go. My father stood by the door silently crying to himself. They did actually love each other.

That night my life became hectic. I took over Queen duties for the kingdom. Which is no problem, however my father's advisors are like the devil in his ear. My father is so poor minded that the lies they tell him he believes them. I do feel bad for my father. He was just a guard when he and my mother, the princess, fell for each other. He does care for our people, he just doesn't understand how to communicate with them, so he leaves it to William. William is the head guard that is supposed to help my people when they need it, but he's just a tyrant.

Like today, William and Henry, the main advisor, are telling my father that the creatures that are coming to do trade are tricking my father. They are telling him that these creatures are raiding savages. I've heard enough from these two.

"Alright that's enough. What are your sources for all this?" I stop them just as they walk to the maps to map out an attack on the incoming ships. "My sources tell me the reason for any attacks was that the Tearings Kingdom enslaved them." I look at my father's indecisive face.

"I have insiders in the Silentdew Kingdom, Sire." Henry boosts with a mocking smile.

"I don't remember a ship leaving for that long of a voyage, so when was this?"

I'm completely ignored.

"These creatures are here simply for land. I myself have sent letters with their King, so I will not have these stories to be spread. If no problems are caused then no problems will occur. They should be docking in just three days, and we must greet them accordingly." My father takes over. He turns to me. "(Y/n) I need you to be there for their reassurance that we give faith into our new arrangements." I give my father a reassuring smile.

"I was hoping to meet them at dinner." I try to sound proper, not too obvious.

"I know, I know. I just need them to know even with your own… legacy, we are here united for good reasons." I laugh at his pausing for the right words.

What he had difficulty with is my true title. Queen General (full name). At fourteen my mother insisted my father train me in some sort of defense. What she didn't expect was for me to get completely infatuated with fighting, and well I became General after my eighteenth birthday. No one argued the title placement, because they knew I actually worked for it. Sadly I had to give that title to William last year when I turned twenty. My father told me it was time for me to settle down, so he's been finding suitors for me. Most of them did seem good on paper, so I don't fault my father on that point. It's just when they open their mouths nothing intelligent comes out just pompous showboating, or their egos get destroyed from my legacy. At least my father doesn't fight me when I tell him I won't marry them.

Besides, my biggest problem is dealing with an overly cocky William. He's been following me around assuming I'm turning the suitors away for him, because we've known each other since childhood. Granted as a child he was better to tolerate. Over the years I've learned just the type of man he's become, and the amount of female servants I've helped from his whole group. My mother taught me very early that I can't stop men like that, so that's why the only females that work in my castle are my own close ladies. I have made an example of what happens when I catch you in certain acts which helped the women in the town as well. Sadly mother was right. That's why I pray to her that I'm right with these creatures that come here, they docked yesterday. Tomorrow I will actually meet their leader, and have dinner.

This morning I'm woken up by my ladies to get ready for the creature's arrival. They should be here by midday, and by then I should have my nerves somewhat controlled. Which doesn't seem fruitful when the laces of my dress are being pulled back to cut my breathing off. I wasn't used to these formal dresses, and hair styling anymore. I mostly stayed in work dresses, and kept my hair braided to the side. I look like my mother with my hair like this, and she'd love this.

I walked down the main steps as the gates opened for three mountainous horses carrying orcs. I come to a stop in the only open place next to my father. Of course it's next to William. I keep myself looking at the gorgeous horses, but I'm stuck on the short haired one with a scruff-like beard. His yellow eyes scan the crowd, they seem to shine with curiosity as he sees something new.

"I like your hair this way, Princess." William takes me away from the orc. "I wanted to surprise you, but Friday I'm telling your father about us." I feel his hand move along my arm. "I can't let you keep this charade of the suitors." The entire feeling from him makes me nervous, causing me to move away immediately.

I hear him chuckling as I step to my father as he steps closer with the orcs following. Once I take a deep breath I realize I didn't hold my composure when my face relaxes. My father introduces me to Lord Rothwell and his guards. I look up at him in amazement as I outstretch my hand.

"Welcome Sir Rothwell." I offer him my hand.

"I'm very happy to be here, My Lady." His smile brings his tusk to a better view as he brings my hand to meet his lips, letting me feel just how smooth his tusks are.

Throughout the day, we are in the meeting hall going over the maps showing them their lands, and discussing laws. I was surprised when we have similar laws, granted they had more for the different creatures, which they gave us their law books.

Once dinner is served, it's like we have all known each other for years with the laughter coming from the dining hall. I sit left of my father as Rothwell sits across from me. I could listen to him talk about his people all night. He talks with such passion, the way his eyes light up when he speaks of certain people, well creatures.

"I'm glad we are on the same page about this settlement." I'm father raises his cup to cheer.

"Yes, I like how we are using the river as a boundary. It is very clever. That way no one can say they don't know where they are going." He cheers with my father.

"That was (y/n)'s idea. I swear if you spend a day with her you'd be amazed with what she comes up with." Father laughs as he shakes my shoulder making my food fall off my spoon.

"I'd love to spend a day with you." Rothwell looks me in the eyes as he says this, his voice makes my ankles lock together on their own.

"Sir Rothwell, do you hope this is a permanent settlement or just for the resources?" I generally want to know for my own knowledge and my kingdom's.

"Completely permanent, Princess." He smirks once responded.

My father grabs Rothwell's attention for some battle stories, but William decides now will be best to slide into the seat next to mine. I roll my eyes at his drunken smile.

"Father?" I try to properly get his attention.

"I was thinking about sunset for our ceremony." William begins. "The windows in the church shine perfectly at that time." He reaches for my piece of hair, but I move back.

I look back to my father to see him still talking, but Rothwell is eyeing William with hard eyes. William leans closer to continue his wedding talk, trying to touch me, making me grip my eating knife. He goes to reach for me again, and I snap. I push him back with my knife pointed at his lower rib. He drops his cup, leaving the wine to puddle the floor, and raises his hands. I slightly lean forward with my eyes locked on his terror filled ones.

"I've tolerated you all day, with your wedding bullshit talk, and you trying to touch me." He goes to speak, but me pushing the knife slightly further makes him stop. "If you so much as think of coming near me in the next couple of days. I swear the moment my eyes land on you I will cut your ribs out right there. Am I understood?" I sternly finish with a last push of the knife.

"Yes, Princess. I'm terribly sorry I won't bother you again." He rushes out his apologies as he nods quickly.

I raise my knife to the side for him to shakily run to the doors of the dining hall. Everyone is still silent as I turn back to my food. As I bite into my food I look up to Rothwell slightly biting his lower lip. I can feel my neck up to my face get hot as I look back down to my plate. Everyone starts to mumble about me as they get back to dinner.

"Daughter, must you embarrass the poor boy." Father laughs as he fills my cup with wine.

"Yes I must. Animals like him don't listen to normal talk, so I must get straight to the point." I take a big gulp of my wine as I stand. "Well goodnight father, enjoy your night." I kiss my father on the forehead. "Please don't get him completely gone. I'd like him to be somewhat functional." I laugh with Rothwell as the others raise their cups to me.

I walk to my chambers with an orc on my mind, and how my mother would be shocked that this is who I'm thinking about. Once in my chambers I change into my night dress getting comfortable as the night bonfire is lit in town Square. I lean against the balcony door crossing my arms at William's nonsense. I'm brought out of my thoughts as a crowd forms, and William steps through along with Rothwell. I could finally see that Rothwell is three feet taller than William, and is much bigger as well. The small group that came with Rothwell cheers for Rothwell as the fight starts. I watch as Rothwell practically throws William like a child around the circle. William slides along the ground making me laugh, and Rothwell raises his arms as he roars in celebration with his men. One of the creature men point up toward me, making him look up at me. I give him a sarcastic clap, but inside I want to scream for him. His roar was much louder as his men crowd him like he won something. William steps back to him in a drunken like sway, maybe it's a painful sway. Rothwell swats the air telling him he's done, but William says something that's obviously antagonizing. Rothwell actually throws him this time, but I feel that still wasn't his full strength. I watch William use his horse to stand. Rothwell walks away with his group of men as my men get back to work on the weapons. William however takes his sword from the sheath he keeps on his horse, and runs toward Rothwell with the sword high in the air. I grab a book that I left on the balcony, and throw it at Rothwell. It hits one of his men, making him turn to me. I just point at William. I quickly run down the stairs as the yelling echoes off the walls. They grow louder as I get to the Town Square. I signal to the cannon gunners to shoot a cannon. My men stop, and stand to attention. The creatures slowly stand to their feet. I step calmly through the sea of men to the ones that are still gripping onto each other. I take the sword of one of the closest men.

"Enough!" I use the sword to push William back.

Once he sees it's me he falls to his knees.

"Meeting hall, NOW!" My voice booms off the walls.

As I follow the two men into the hall my father is standing there with an angry expression. As I walk around them I throw the sword into a table. I look at the marks William somehow got on Rothwell with worry, but when I look at how William looks I couldn't hold my smirk.

"I don't mind when you men fight for show or for your own amusement. However I will not tolerate you having war IN THE MIDDLE OF MY KINGDOM!" My father yells out like he never has before. "Not only did you want to spar with an orc, you tried to strike an unarmed man in the back." My father speaks in shame at William. "Lets not begin to discuss what happened at dinner with my daughter." He turns to me. "Why was he threatened anyway?"

"Well throughout the day he has tried grabbing me, telling me that I am to marry him, and how the suitors I've declined were for his benefit." I tell my father honestly.

While I explain to my father Rothwell snaps his head to William like he actually wants to kill him.

"Guards!" Father suddenly yells, making me jump in surprise. "Lock William in the tunnels until I can deal with him in the morning." William is pleading as he is being pulled out once he's gone father sits with a deep sigh. "I should've done that years ago." He looks up at me as he rests his head on his fingertips looking between me and Rothwell. "Hmm well. Should we start the courting process?" He asks Rothwell with a no tolerance voice.

"Yes." Is all Rothwell says with a last look at me before storming out.

"Courting process?" I question my father.

He just dismisses me to bed, and tells me to enjoy the gifts.

[mustainegf]

Heeyy, I've been thinking about 2009 James and wife!reader where they are in they're honeymoon in colorado and James get's drunk and horny and starts get a little touchy and calls you things like "darling" or "sweetheart" and it ends up in 🐱 eating

Holy shit this is a good one, I (s)creamed

𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 ²⁰⁰⁹

It was just the two of us, James and me, finally honeymooning, the long awaited getaway to paradise after that beautiful wedding. So, it had to be a luxurious hotel suite, James insisted, with just the right view. We relished the wine with the sunset shining against our faces on the balcony.

James had drunk a little more than he probably should have. He wasn't drunk, but I could make out the tipsiness in his eyes and his tone of voice. Never before had he laughed and smiled so much, his affection came.

He pulled me into his arms and peppered my face with kisses, refusing to let me go.

"Darling, you are so beautiful," he murmured, his deep voice spilling with love. "My love, my sweet thing. .. I just can't believe you're mine."

I giggled at his sweet words, the alcohol always brought out his mushy side. "We're married." I giggle softly, brushing his scarred cheek.

We made our way inside once more, the soft air of the suite refreshing against our warm skin. James' eyes were knowing as he led me to the bed. His hands wandered over my body.

"Sweetheart, let me eat you out," he begged, his voice gruff. "Please, my sweet angel, I just gotta taste you."

I couldn't help but chuckle at his blatantness, his words were getting slurred from the drinking. "You really are horny, aren't you?" I laughed and flicked my fingers through his quiffed hair.

Nodding feverishly, his eyes begged, practically pleaded with me. "Baby, please. I want you so bad. Let me taste you, let me make you feel good like you deserve."

His desperation was kind of sweet, and really, I couldn't turn him down. "Okay, Jamie," I said softly, my voice tinged with affection. "You can."

He almost pounced on me, his fingers shaking with excitement as he tore off my clothes. His hands were soft though still firm, with fingers alike as they lingered on my skin, peeling off each layer, leaving me to giggle.

And then, with me in a complete nakedness, he settled between my legs, his eyes hungry like a starved animal.

"God, you're so... perfect," he muttered against my inner thighs, the breath hot between nips and kisses. "My sweet thing, my love. you're everything to me."

He sure did love pet names, and with him being a little drunk, he could hardly keep them out of his smart mouth.

His lips were soft, so soft as he kissed and sucked his way up my thighs, surely leaving damp love bites in his wake. He finally stopped when he reached my pussy, his breath warm against my most intimate place.

"Beautiful," he whispered, awe in his voice. "So perfect, and all mine... my wife."

He bent to kiss my pussy, his tongue darting out to taste me. I felt the spasm at the sudden feeling. James' tongue was warm, soft, rubbing around and inside me with an urgency as if he'd been starved of me for years, when in reality, he'd fucked me just this morning.

"You taste so good," he sputtered against my slick and reddened lips. "So fucking good, baby. I could eat you out all night."

His hands curled up to grip my thighs, his fingers digging into me as he kept me trapped under his mouth and tongue. He flicked his tongue over my clit, over, and over, and over. I moaned softly as my hands tangled in his short hair, urging him on.

"James, that feels s-so good," I strained, my whole body trembling as he worked me with that tongue of his. "Don't stop, please."

He groaned in response, his tongue working all the harder to give me pleasure. He alternated between licking and sucking, his mouth endless in its pursuit of my climax.

"My darling, you are so perfect," he murmured between licks. "So sweet, so fuckin' perfect. I love you so much."

His words only boosted my arousal, the sweet praise burning in the cool air.

"James, I'm gonna cum," I moaned, my voice desperate. "Please, don't stop."

He didn't stop. If anything, he pressed his efforts more into it, and his mouth worked magic on my clit. I'd never had anything like that sensation, one huge tidal wave crashed over me. I cried out this name, hands fisting and tugging at his hair, my body shaking under the force of an orgasm like no other.

James held me through it, his mouth never leaving my pussy, as I rode out my climax. He just kept on licking and sucking, drawing every drop out until I lay there, shaking and limp.

At last, he drew away, his face flushed and shining with my cum and juices. "You're amazing," he whispered, his voice soaked in love, and other things...

"My sweet thing," he murmured, his tone so soft now. "My darling, my baby. Thank you for marrying me."

[arminsumi]

✎ he tells his mom about you.

note : i'm avoiding homework and skimming my tumblr drafts lol

summary — in the kitchen, your fave and his mom share a conversation about you over their morning coffees.

🍒 — J ⋅ reblogs and comments help a lot ! enjoy reading :)

satoru 💗 さとる

he talks so excitedly when it's your name is on his tongue. his eyes light up, and he talks at a an accelerating pace.

"...and she likes the films i like, so i thought i'd invite her over for a movie marathon on the weekend... i can't wait to introduce you to her, mom. she's damn beautiful."

momma gojo can't help but softly smile, she's waited for the day satoru's heart finally settled on someone. of course, he doesn't know it yet. he's oblivious. so she has to point out the very obvious fact to stir his realization of his own feelings for you.

"...sounds to me like you've got a crush there." she teases sweetly.

satoru stops and stutters. "what... no! it's not like that..." he denounces. but his face is heating up, and he's got a boyish blush spreading down his face.

suguru 💗 すぐる

just like the pitch black coffee he drinks, suguru's got a deeply stained and abyssal-black attitude to life. lethargic, apprehensive, morose, apathetic, misanthropic. his mother feels a long-desired relief come over her heart as she slowly watches all of these things recede back out of his personality, slowly revealing who he truly is, the son she raised; a soft and gentle boy who needs tender love and care.

"...i think she'll be by the cafe today, studying. so i'll stop by... do you think it would it be cheesy of me to bring flowers? she said she likes tulips, and the florist nearby has some fresh ones..."

his mom's aged face looks at him thoughtfully. there's silence. "suguru..." she begins very slowly. he looks up with a lightened expression, a rarity to behold on her son's face. "it sounds like you're falling in love."

he goes silent and blinks blankly at her. was he falling in love? well... now that she said it, he realized it was true.

"oh..." he says in realization. he blinks. there's a curl of a smile on his lips. "uh... i guess so... huh."

"it's nice." his mom says with an earnest voice, "to see that weight lift from your shoulders. i'm glad you met someone like her."

armin 💗 アルミン

this blond cutie pie can't stop talking about you. he rambles and rambles, talks his mom's ears right off her head.

"... and she likes (...) and she said (...). and oh! oh! she also said that (...). ah and i had such a lame response..."

she knows basically everything about you. when you meet her in the future, she tells you "i've heard so much about you" but she really means it.

armin's doubtful about the idea of you sharing mutual feelings. his mom reassures him over and over, she likes you. she likes you. but he still finds it impossible to believe.

"she definitely likes you, from the sounds of things." his mom says.

"huh? no way... there's no way she'd like me back." he says with glum doubt.

she tilts her head at him. he looks so small and huggable when he's so glum. his eyes tear up when he gets too absorbed in thought about the idea of you not liking him back.

his mom always taps his shoulder when she notices him starting to brood on his feelings.

"don't be so doubtful, angel." she tells him.

he musters a fleeting smile. there's a small hope in his chest and he tries his best to consider the possibility that you like him just as much as he likes you.

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[brookghaib-blog]

Whispers of the past pt.4

Pairing: Hoshina Soshiro x reader

Summary: 10 years ago, Y/N went missing after being attacked by a kaiju, now working by Gen Narumi's side as his secret weapon, she hides herself in hopes that one day she reconnects with her first love, Hoshina Soshiro.

pt.3 - pt.5

--

Hoshina's pov:

The next morning dawned with a sense of relief, the events of the previous night fading into memory. Mina and I shared a quiet breakfast together, the gossip about our supposed relationship the subject of much amusement.

"I can't believe people actually believe those rumors," Mina chuckled, sipping her coffee. "As if I would ever go for someone like you."

I rolled my eyes, playfully nudging her shoulder. "Hey, watch it. You're lucky to have me."

We laughed, the tension of the past evening dissipating in the light of day. Despite the rumors, Mina and I had always been nothing more than friends, comrades in arms against the kaiju threat.

After breakfast, we headed to a reunion with the defense force to discuss the increasing number of kaiju attacks. The meeting was tense, the atmosphere charged with urgency as we debated strategies and tactics. Gen Narumi, captain of the first division, was as stoic as ever, his gaze piercing as he addressed the group.

"We're facing an unprecedented threat," he began, his voice commanding attention. "The kaiju attacks are escalating, and we need to be prepared for anything."

He paused, glancing around the room before continuing. "That's why I've been working on a secret project, one that I believe could turn the tide in our favor. I've recruited a new member to our ranks, someone with unique abilities that could prove invaluable in our fight against the kaiju."

Murmurs of curiosity rippled through the room as Narumi revealed his secret weapon. "Her name is Habina Chisuka" he explained, his expression grave. "She was once a human like us, but she was transformed into a kaiju. I've been training her, studying her abilities, in the hopes of unlocking the secrets of her transformation. We still don't know how or why it happened to her, she doesn't have any recolection of that night, however we have her under observation to try figure it out this occurrence.”

As Narumi spoke, I felt a sense of unease settle over me. The idea of using a transformed human as a weapon was unsettling, to say the least. How was that even possible. But Narumi was convinced that Chisuka held the key to understanding the kaiju threat, and I trusted his judgment implicitly.

"She's here with us today," Narumi continued, his gaze sweeping the room. "But she remains anonymous, her true identity hidden from all but a select few. I ask that you respect her privacy and treat her with the same respect you would any member of our team."

I nodded, the weight of Narumi's words sinking in. Habina Chisuka was a mystery, a puzzle waiting to be solved. And as the meeting came to a close, I couldn't shake the feeling that her presence would change everything. Using a kaiju as a soldier.

Later that evening, as I sat alone in my office, the events of the day played over in my mind. Chisuka Hibino was a wildcard, a variable that could tip the scales in our favor—or lead to our downfall.

--

Mina and I sat in the quiet of our shared quarters, the events of the day weighing heavily on our minds. As we sipped our tea, a tense silence settled between us, broken only by the occasional clink of our cups.

Finally, Mina spoke, her voice low and cautious. "This all Habina Chisuka situation doesn't seem right to me."

I nodded, knowing exactly what was on her mind. "I know. It's hard to trust someone we know so little about."

Mina leaned forward, her gaze intense. "But what if she's not who she says she is? What if she's a kaiju in disguise, manipulating us for her own purposes?"

The thought sent a chill down my spine, but I couldn't deny the possibility. "It's a risk we can't afford to ignore. We need to find out the truth about her, no matter what."

Mina nodded, her expression determined. "Agreed. But how do we do that? Gen trusts her implicitly, and he won't take kindly to us questioning her."

I frowned, knowing she was right. Gen Narumi had put his faith in this Chisuka, and questioning her loyalty would be seen as a betrayal. But if there was even a chance that she posed a threat to us, we couldn't afford to ignore it.

"We'll have to be subtle," I said, thinking aloud. "We'll need to gather information, find out who she is, about her past and her abilities. If she truly is who she says she is, then she won't have anything to hide."

Mina nodded, her expression grim. "Agreed. Although, if she's under Narumi's watch, it can be difficult to track her down. But if I could have something from Narumi, we can know where she is and keep an eye on her, watching for any signs of suspicious behavior. And if we find anything, we'll confront her and demand answers. Kill her if needed."

I felt a surge of determination, knowing that we couldn't afford to let our guard down.

--

Narumi's pov:

The soft glow of the streetlights cast long shadows across the quiet street as I made my way to Chisuka's apartment. The events of the day weighed heavily on my mind, and I knew that I needed to speak with her before the situation escalated any further.

As I reached her building, I hesitated for a moment before knocking on her door. The sound of footsteps approached, and soon Chisuka stood before me, her expression guarded but curious.

"Narumi," she greeted, her voice soft with surprise. "What brings you here at this hour?"

"I wanted to speak with you, Chisuka," I replied, offering her a small smile. "May I come in?"

She nodded, stepping aside to let me enter. The apartment was small and sparsely furnished, a testament to Chisuka's solitary existence. I followed her inside, taking a seat on the worn couch.

"I wanted to talk to you about the reunion we discussed earlier," I began, my tone serious. "We may need you in battle soon, and I wanted to prepare you for what's to come, we had the reunion today, we announced your presence in our team to the other divisions, we have been training for 3 years now, and with the increase of kaiju attacks and stronger kaijus appearing, you'll need to make you debut, you need to know what it's like on the battlefield."

Chisuka's expression darkened, a shadow crossing her features. "I understand, Captain. I'll be ready."

I studied her for a moment, sensing her sadness and unease. "Is everything alright, Chisuka? You seem… troubled."

Chisuka hesitated, her eyes betraying the turmoil within. "It's nothing, Captain. Just… personal issues."

I reached out, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You can talk to me, Chisuka. I'm here to help."

Her walls began to crumble, the weight of her emotions pressing down on her. "It's just… I saw Soshiro at the bar tonight, and it messed with my head, with everything, it's just...I need to move on anyway, he even has a girlfriend now."

My heart clenched at her words, a surge of protectiveness rising within me. "I'm sorry, Chisuka. I didn't realize…"

Chisuka shook her head, trying to push aside the memories that threatened to overwhelm her. "It's fine, Captain. I'll deal with it."

We sat on the floor, her couch holding our backs, only a small light from an old chandelier lighted the room, I made conversation with her, trying to distract her from the pain she revealed to me. But I could still see the pain in her eyes, the lingering hurt from her encounter with Soshiro. Without thinking, I leaned in closer, my lips hovering just inches from hers.

"Chisuka…" I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

She looked up at me, her eyes wide with uncertainty. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to ease her pain, to offer her the comfort she so desperately needed.

But as our lips drew closer, I hesitated, a voice whispering in the back of my mind that this wasn't right, that I was crossing a line I shouldn't.

With a shaky breath, Chisuka pulled away, her eyes filled with regret. "I'm sorry, Narumi. I can't…"

I nodded, my own heart heavy with disappointment. "It's alright, Chisuka. I shouldn't have…"

She reached out, placing a hand on my arm. "Thank you, Narumi. For everything."

As I rose to leave, I couldn't shake the feeling of longing that lingered in the air between us. But I knew that I needed to respect Chisuka's boundaries, to give her the space she needed to heal.

And as I watched her disappear into the depths of her apartment, I couldn't help but wonder what has gotten into me, feeling guilty for making her unconfortable...I'm sorry Chisuka.

--

-flashback-

The battlefield was chaos. Smoke and debris filled the air, the roar of kaiju and the shouts of our comrades blending into a cacophony of war. I was leading my team in a desperate defense against a particularly relentless kaiju when a new, unexpected threat emerged from the shadows.

It was unlike any kaiju we had faced before. Its form was humanoid, almost graceful, with a mixture of sleek, alien-like armor and raw, exposed muscle. Its eyes, however, held an intelligence that set it apart from the mindless beasts we were used to fighting.

I engaged it cautiously, my attacks probing for weaknesses. But it quickly became clear that this kaiju was different. It moved with purpose, almost as if it were trying to communicate.

Suddenly, the creature stopped fighting and held up a clawed hand, a gesture that seemed almost… human.

"Please," it spoke, its voice resonating in our minds rather than through the air. "I am not your enemy. My name is Y/N L/N."

I froze, disbelief and confusion etched on my face. A talking kaiju? This had to be some kind of trick.

"Why should I believe you?" I demanded, keeping my blade at the ready.

The kaiju, Y/N, shifted her form, her features softening and becoming more human-like. Slowly, painfully, she began to transform. Before our eyes, the monstrous exterior melted away, revealing a young woman with tear-filled eyes.

"Because I was human once," she said, her voice trembling. "And I need your help. Please, I'm not a threat."

The sincerity in her eyes, the desperation in her voice—it was enough to give me pause. Lowering my weapon, I approached her cautiously. "Alright. I'll help you. But you need to come with us."

Y/N nodded, relief flooding her features. "Thank you."

In the weeks that followed, I didn't know what approach to have, I was still suspicious of her, although, how could a kaiju be so human. But over time, her genuine desire to aid me became evident. She began her training with me, shared her knowledge of kaiju behavior, and proved her loyalty time and time again.

During this period, I grew closer to Y/N, now named Habina Chisuka. We spent long hours discussing strategy, her insights often proving invaluable. Despite the initial awkwardness, a camaraderie began to form between us.

One evening, after a particularly grueling training session, I found Chisuka sitting alone on the roof of the base. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the city below.

"Mind if I join you?" I asked, approaching her with a small smile.

She glanced up, surprised, then nodded. "Of course, Captain."

I sat beside her, the silence between us comfortable. "You've come a long way, Chisuka. I'm glad you're with us."

She smiled, but there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. "Thank you, Captain. It's been… difficult, but I'm grateful for the chance to prove myself."

A few days later, we offered Chisuka a small apartment near the base, the girl had spent the last years of her life jumping from bench to bench, our working long hours for no money, just to be given a warm bed. But now, she did have a place she could call her own. I wanted her to feel as much a part of our team as anyone else, and a private space seemed like a good step towards that.

That night, I couldn't resist checking on her. I knocked softly on her door, and after a moment, she opened it, her eyes red and puffy.

"Chisuka, are you alright?" I asked, concern lacing my voice.

She tried to smile, but it wavered. "Yes, Captain. I just… I didn't expect this. A place of my own. It's… overwhelming."

I stepped inside, glancing around the modest apartment. It was sparsely furnished, just a bed, a small table, and a chair, but it was more than she had ever hoped for since her transformation. "You deserve it, Chisuka. You've earned my trust and my friendship."

She nodded, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Thank you. For everything. I never thought I'd feel welcome again, let alone have a place to call home."

Without thinking, I pulled her into a gentle embrace. "You're one of us now, Chisuka. We're here for you."

She clung to me, sobbing softly against my chest. I could feel her trembling, the weight of her emotions pouring out after being bottled up for so long. "It's been so hard," she whispered. "I lost everything. My family, my friends, my life. And now… now I have this."

Her words broke my heart. I tightened my embrace, trying to offer her some semblance of comfort. "I can't imagine what you've been through, Chisuka. But I promise you, you're not alone anymore. We'll face this together."

She pulled back slightly, looking up at me with red-rimmed eyes. "I don't know how to thank you, Captain. You've given me more than I ever thought possible."

I wiped away her tears, offering her a reassuring smile. "Just keep fighting alongside us. That's all the thanks I need."

She nodded, a small, grateful smile breaking through her sorrow. "I will. I promise."

As we stood there, the bond between us strengthened, forged in the crucible of battle and tempered by shared pain. Habina Chisuka was more than just a weapon in our fight against the kaiju—she was a valued member of my team, and someone I came to want to protect with my life.

In the days that followed, Chisuka began to settle into her new life. She joined me in training sessions, her kaiju abilities proving to be an invaluable asset. She shared her insights on kaiju behavior, helping us to develop new strategies and tactics. And slowly but surely, she began to find her place among us.

One evening, after a particularly intense training session, I found myself once again at Chisuka's apartment. She had invited me for dinner, a gesture of gratitude that eventually become something regular for us.

As we sat at the small table, sharing a simple meal, I couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. Chisuka was smiling, a genuine smile that reached her eyes, and for the first time since we had met, she seemed at peace.

"Thank you for this, Chisuka," I said, raising my glass in a toast. "To new beginnings."

She clinked her glass against mine, her smile widening. "To new beginnings."

As we talked and laughed, I realized just how far she had come. From a kaiju on the battlefield to a trusted member of my team, Habina Chisuka had found her place among us. And I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together.

Because over time, I saw her as a priority, she would be under my protection 24/7.

[thepixelelf]

genres/tags: body swapping/your name au; mystery; angst; minwon are roommates; reader is a small town [gender neutral] living in a lonely world. warnings: coarse language; major character death (non graphic/not shown). wc: 1.8k

love triangle au requests

[where and, more importantly, when] In the past week and a half, Wonwoo has slept better than he's ever slept in his life.

Actually, maybe "better" isn't the best descriptor for his sleep. Longer, certainly. Dreamless.

When he closes his eyes, he no longer dreams through yours. He no longer finds himself trapped in your tiny town, in your lonesome loft, in your dead-end job...in your body.

Wonwoo keeps telling himself he should be happy; relieved. What he was calling a curse a few weeks ago is finally over. He isn't waking up in an unfamiliar body every other day anymore. You're not messing with his life anymore, intentionally or not. Yes, he should be thankful that all that body-swapping nonsense is over.

Groggy, eyes drooping, Wonwoo watches coffee drip from the Keurig into his whale shark-shaped mug. You'd bought that mug with his money, at the aquarium you went to in his body, since your small town doesn't have places like that. (And you've never left.)

((In your own body, anyway.))

The TV across the apartment plays the general news channel, but Wonwoo stopped paying attention at some point.

His phone lies face up on the counter in front of the coffeemaker, the daily journal app you used to keep him up to date on your shenanigans in his body open. If it weren't for your notes — and the kitschy mug in front of him — he'd almost believe that all the times he woke up and spent the day in your body were dreams.

Wednesday 10:38PM Obviously I didn't take your car to the aquarium. You city people drive like fucking animals. Makes me glad I've never left.

Thursday 3:45PM You don't act like it. -W

Friday 11:01PM It's not like I've never wanted to leave. I mean, you've spent enough time there to understand. Everyone wants to leave, but it's only the lucky ones who actually do. I know we've been complaining about this whole thing a lot. But... I don't know. It's been nice to not be me. For a little while. You probably understand by now why I can't leave. I know you've been receiving the calls. My mom's condition has been like that for years... I don't want to leave her alone.

Saturday 11:48PM I didn't mean to be nosy, but they called you/me yesterday. They said your mom was awake and asking for you... but she was unconscious again by the time I got to the home. I can take care of her too, when I'm you. If you're okay with it. If not, that's okay too.-W

Sunday 9:06PM She'd know you're not me. I don't want to scare her.

Monday 11:59PM I could still take care of her. From the sidelines. If you want. -W

Wonwoo stares at the last note he put in the log. He didn't swap with you that night, or any night since, so you haven't read it. Now he's finding it hard to accept that he'd settled for this mode of communication. You'd tried to trade phone numbers at one point, but his messages weren't sending. The ones that you'd sent as a test went through, but there were no notifications for them. By the time he'd thought to scroll through his old messages, it was like yours were always there. He knew it wasn't because you blocked him — he could check when he took over your body, after all — so it didn't really make sense.

Not that any of this made sense, but still.

Something must have happened for the swapping to suddenly stop with no warning, but then again, it's not like either of you got any warning when it started.

Sighing, Wonwoo pulls up your number and hovers his thumb over the call button. He's never spoken to you, really — only ever heard your voice when he was using it.

He taps his thumb and brings his phone up to his ear.

It rings until the automated voicemail message plays, and he hangs up.

Then tries again.

"Hello?" an unfamiliar voice answers.

Wonwoo blinks. He's never talked to you face to face, but he knows this voice is one he's never heard before. "Who is this?"

"Who is—" The voice chuckles. "You called me, buddy."

"I'm looking for..." Saying your name out loud feels strange. He's never told anyone about you.

"Sorry man, they must've given you a fake number."

Wonwoo frowns. "That's not possible." You sent those messages to him before with the exact number he's calling now. "Just a couple weeks ago we—"

"I've had this number for like two years, so I don't know what to tell you."

"Two years?" Carelessly, Wonwoo's hand shoots out to support himself on the counter, and he knocks over your whale shark mug. "Shit." Hot coffee spills all over fake marble, and the handle of the mug cracks completely off. "Fuck."

Wonwoo hangs up on the stranger even as they ask if he's okay, and he tosses his phone on a dry section of the counter so he can hold the broken handle of your mug in one hand and the rest in the other.

He doesn't get it. He really doesn't.

But he feels like crying.

Why did it stop?

Where did you go?

Why did he have to break the one thing he has here that's yours?

The front door of the apartment opens, and through it steps Mingyu in his work attire. He toes off his shoes, puts his wireless earbuds in their case, and when Wonwoo can't hold in a sniffle, Mingyu looks up at him.

He meets Wonwoo's teary eyes, glances at your broken mug, and, shocked— 

Whispers your name.

Wonwoo's mouth drops open. He can only stand frozen as Mingyu marches up to him and pulls him into a tight hug.

“Is that really you? It’s okay. It’s okay. We can go back and get you another one! Where were you? I’ve been— I thought—”

Careful not to touch him with the broken edges of your mug, Wonwoo pushes Mingyu off. “You knew?”

Mingyu’s eyes widen, and he backs off with a faux casual cough. “Haha… Knew what…?” he drawls, avoiding Wonwoo’s hard gaze and scratching the back of his neck.

“Don’t play stupid. You said their name.” Wonwoo puts the pieces of your mug on the counter. “How long?”

“I don’t know what you’re—”

“Mingyu.”

“The whole time?” Mingyu flinches back, wincing with one eye peeked open to watch for Wonwoo’s reaction. “Um…”

Wonwoo feels dizzy. “The whole time?!” he echoes. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“They told me not to!” Mingyu puts his hands up in defense. “They were embarrassed I caught them so quickly.”

“But… You… Wait, the aquarium… You went together…?”

Leaning into it now, Mingyu talks over Wonwoo’s confusion. “So where are they? Do you know what happened? Why did the swapping thing stop? Did you figure out how it works? Are they ever coming back?”

Wonwoo snaps back to into it at that last question. “I don’t— I don’t know.”

“Well do you know where they are?” Mingyu steps closer, his brows furrowed. “I tried calling them but some random guy answered. And I don’t know why — I swear they’ve told me a million times — but every time I try to remember the name of their town, I can’t. It’s like a blank spot in my brain.”

Wonwoo frowns. “It’s—”

Wait.

“It’s…”

The name is on the the tip of his tongue, but why should it be stuck there? He was living every other day in that damned town.

“Right?” Mingyu says. He snaps his fingers. “I know it sounds something like… cargo, or gunley, or scarsborough, or—”

“—reporting to you live from Garneau—”

Both of them whip their heads toward the TV, where a news reporter stands in front of a woodsy area. The sky behind them is gray, and the trees are lit by flashing blue and red lights

“It’s been just over two years since a missing persons report was filed after a barn party that was held on the outskirts of Garneau.”

“‘Barn party’?” Mingyu repeats. “Isn’t that—?”

You were the first person Wonwoo had ever heard use the term, since you were planning on going to one with your shitty coworkers. Wonwoo told you not to go — not just because of that one asshole who would always look at you in a way that made Wonwoo shiver, but because barn parties, whatever they were, couldn’t be fun. He had no thoughts on whether or not it would be dangerous.

“This morning, intense rainstorms in a marshy area not far from that party led to the discovery of a human body in the mud. Forensics are showing the person to have been in their mid-twenties, and that their body was submerged for at least one year.”

Wonwoo’s jaw clenches.

“Other details are currently unknown, but speculation leads to a connection between the missing persons case from two years prior. We urge anyone with any information on—”

Mingyu gasps when the reporter says your name.

“—to come forward. Until more information is discovered, however, this has been—”

“What the fuck.” Mingyu looks over at Wonwoo, whose face is blank. “What the fuck. What the fuck!”

Wonwoo says nothing. He can’t.

A week and a half ago, he started looking up treatments for your mother’s condition and better homes for patients like her. He missed a deadline for one of his projects while searching for other places you could visit as him that you couldn’t go to in your town, like the giant indoor amusement park, or that cheesy rainforest-themed restaurant. The last time he was in your body, he left a bowl of sliced strawberries in your fridge after you lamented missing the day some client sent an edible arrangement to your work.

Was that two years ago for you? Did you ever even see them?

Wonwoo goes to the entrance of their apartment, grabs his jacket, shrugs it on while slipping into his shoes, and puts his hand on the doorknob.

Mingyu puts his hand over Wonwoo’s. “Where are you going?”

Jerking his wrist, Wonwoo yanks open the door. “To find them.”

Mingyu follows him into the hall. “Didn’t you see the news? They’re—” He stumbles, eyes wide and breath starting to grow uneven. Then he swallows that moment of realization down and meets Wonwoo’s eyes with an uncertain tilt to his mouth. “You really think you can find them?”

Wonwoo can't answer that. “But I'm going anyway.”

Running his hand through his hair, Mingyu turns around for a few seconds with the other hand on his hip. He sighs before dipping back into the apartment.

When he comes back out, his steps are heavy with determination.

“I'll drive.”