#In my mind they have curtain bangs

[avelanlorelay]

I find it funny how canon it is for the whole fandom that Jude and Taryn have bangs or curtain bangs when this is not mentioned in the books

[this-doesnt-endd]

Do i get bangs?

[likeallbeforeyou]

literally i would be so cute if my hair had a style and not just . Long

[the-irrelevant-trumpeter]

debating whether i should cut my hair

[k-hotchoisan]

how to tame a brat tamer

<wooyoung x fem!reader>

where Wooyoung teaches his brat how to tame a brat at her request

genre/warnings: smut, pwp, one shot, brat taming her brat tamer, light use of whip, dom!Wooyoung lets reader play with him, WOOYOUNG IS TIED UP, teasing, unprotected sex, light bondage (from m to f), breeding, semi-rough sex, wooyoung is snarky and he teases reader, light whipping/slapping, shoving with foot, cumming in underwear, thigh whipping, this is just pure fucking filth.

a/n: I’ve been so down bad for Sylus from love & deep space….. & this fic is very loosely based on this card (pls rngesus let me get this card) so I felt like I should share with the class 😔 (Also dear fucking god Sylus. I’ve been so preoccupied with him that I’m slowly going deranged)

w/c: 2.8k

taglist here❤️

“Such a fuckin cute look you have on your face now.”

Wooyoung stares up at you, his thick lips pulled to a smirk, jet black strands of his curtain bangs falling to his face, his foxy eyes narrowed with taunt, and his white dress shirt down three buttons. 

“I don’t recall letting you speak, Jung Wooyoung”, you say disapprovingly, forcefully lifting his chin with the whip. 

Wooyoung’s smile only grows wider. He looks amused. 

“Can’t help it. You look cute when you’re trying to play with me like this.” 

You narrow your eyes at him, and you let the whip trail lightly down his chin, down his throat, to his collarbone, and you hear him groan slightly from the light touches of the leather piece. That’s giving you a burst of confidence at least. 

Unfortunately, you’re still internally gawking at the way Wooyoung has his hands tied behind his back with the bondage ropes he used on you, kneeling before you like a good boy. Even in this state, Wooyoung still looks so fucking good. 

When you put up the proposal of letting you brat tame him, Wooyoung had his eyebrow raised at your request. Initially, he almost jumps to decline your offer, but something at the back of his mind somehow convinced him to let you do it. Maybe it was the way you towered over him when you did it, in your pretty little short nightgown—that barely covered your bare pussy—you know Wooyoung can’t keep his eyes and hands off. Maybe it was the thought of Wooyoung wanting to try something new in the bedroom—and it sounded enticing to him. 

Of course, he showed you the ropes, teaching you the basics. And when he least expected it, you pounced on him. 

So now, he’s tied up, kneeling before you, smiling up at you. He thinks you’re so cute trying your best. 

You close the distance between the both of you, the whip back on his cheek once more, his head tilted back, eyes downcast on you, his smile not faltering. 

Well, that is, until you’re slapping his cheek repeatedly with the leather whip that his smile fades, and his brows furrow. His eyes grow sharper with irritation. 

His voice drops an octave. 

“I don’t think doing that is a smart move, sweetie. You’re gonna regret it.”

Suddenly you’re feeling more courageous that he’s unable to do anything to you, for now, at least. 

It’s your turn to smile back at him. He’s looking at you like a predator. 

Then you remove the whip. Using one hand, your fingers easily unbutton the rest of his dress shirt. You could just freely pull his shirt off now. 

But you opt not to, instead, your whip replaces your fingers, the soft leather trailing agonisingly slow from his abdomen up north. You hear him groan, and he jolts slightly when the leather grazes his clothed nipple. 

God, he’s getting so fucking hard from this. 

He looks at you intently, ignoring the tight erection tugging against his pants.

“Is this your way of flirting?” Wooyoung questions, his gaze playful, yet taunting. 

“Maybe. You’ve always known my favourite hobby is riling you up.”

Wooyoung’s small smile slowly grows into a smirk. “Of course, sweetie.”

Your body tingles with anticipation whenever he calls you that. It makes you subconsciously lick your lips. It makes you want to maybe obey him. It makes you want to want to go down on your knees for him, and let him do whatever he wants with you. But when your eyes rake over his chest heaving with weight under you as he tugs slightly against the taut ropes binding his wrists, you remember that at least for now, you’re in control.

Your finger trails up his jaw and your thumb strokes gently against his chin. You watch him take a deep breath while he shuts his eyes, letting your painfully slow and soft strokes send electricity down his spine and right to his cock. Then you finally shift your thumb to his bottom lip. He instinctively parts his lips as an invitation to slip your thumb in, but you don’t. You keep your thumb on his lip, rubbing, teasing him, knowing his eyes would flutter open and his eyes would reflect frustration when he doesn’t get his way. Was this the type of thing Wooyoung gets off from? Depriving you of what you wanted? You hated to admit it, but when it was your turn to take his role, it was undeniable that the appeal dangled over you like a sweet treat. 

The smile on your lips grows wider. You’re getting addicted to this feeling. 

“You look so fucking cute when you’re pouty like this, Jung Wooyoung, even when your cock is just begging to be let out.”

Fuck. Wooyoung really trained you a little too well.  

“It takes a brat to tame a brat”, he would say. Of course, who else could have been a more perfect fit for him than you? 

Wooyoung doesn’t reply to you. His panting is growing slightly heavier, his wrists being decorated with imprints from the ropes—a clear indication that he’s growing more antsy. He wants to pounce on you so fucking bad. His mind is flooded with the want to tie you up, to make sure he breaks you at his own sick pace, but undoubtedly, the way you’re treating him right now is making him grow so needy and desperate, and he fucking loves it. 

And when you stand up, looming over him, his heartbeat is loud in his ears. Your foot drags up his bare abdomen that peeked out of his unbuttoned shirt, watching him wince slightly at the touch and suck his teeth as your foot travels up his body, grazing his nipple before stopping just below his collarbone. 

His eyes are locked onto yours, entranced and anticipating your next move. 

Even though he has guesses about your next move, it still takes him by surprise.

With much force, you shove him with your foot, enough for him to tumble back and he falls back onto the floor. Your heart is racing, wondering if you’ve gone too far, ready to break the character when he remains still. But when you hear him mutter curses under his breath before he turns to you with a shit-eating smirk, you know you’re fucked in the best ways possible. 

You get onto the ground, climbing over Wooyoung, straddling his thighs, the wet patch staining his pants not going unnoticed by you. 

“I expected you to be rougher with me, sweetie. You know we both like it rough.”

A smack to his upper thighs with the whip, and you’re rewarded with a strained groan that passes his lips, his eyes roll back and shut slightly from the sudden impact, accompanying his jerk. 

“Is that rough enough for you, baby?” You ask, tone laced with condescension, your fingers catching his jaw, forcing him to face you. 

“Definitely took me by surprise, sweetie”, Wooyoung manages to reply, his eyes trailing down to your lips for a quick second, wetting his with his tongue. 

You lean in closer to him, letting your lips ghost over his, and Wooyoung’s breathing speeds up. 

He’s craving for touch—any touch from you, and his patience thins out even more when you pull back with a smile, knowing you denied what he wanted. 

You hear him cuss under his breath, one reflecting frustration. You know he’s turning restless. 

“Do you want me to touch you, Wooyoung?”

“You really should”, is his answer. 

You raise an eyebrow, another smack to his thighs making him shiver again.

“That’s not how you ask, babe”, you remind him. 

His stare bores a hole in your head, but you’re not relenting. You’re having a little too much fun. 

“Touch me, please”, he mutters. “Need you to touch me so fucking bad.”

The smile you’re so poorly suppressing feeds into your ego. But well…

“Wasn’t so hard was it?” You hum, settling the whip down beside you so you could let your hands wander across his body—his bare abdomen, his chest, his nipples, watching him squirm and sigh when you’d graze over them. 

Feeling kind, your fingers are back to his jaw—soft strokes to his bottom lip, prying them open with your thumb, before you lean in for a wet kiss. You shift slightly, making sure you’re seated just above his thick erection, his body reacting with a jerk while he gives into the kiss. 

He feels so fucking good against you like this. His kisses grow sloppy and desperate, wanting to taste every part of your mouth before you take it away from him again. 

You grind your hips against him, listening to him grunt against your lips every time his clothed cock is stimulated. 

In between kisses, he mutters through half-lidded eyes and with a low voice. 

“You’re not playing fair, sweetie. I’m warning you.”

You only smile against his lips, another thrust, which makes Wooyoung bite his tongue, trying to hold the feeling off. Unfortunately, he knows it’s hopeless when his tip is just being rubbed and grazed, over and over again. You pull your lips back, tilting his head back with your index finger, mimicking the orgasm that’s slowly washing over your partner, his cock’s soft pulses against your bare pussy, and you’ve shamelessly stained his trousers with your own glistening arousal at that feeling. 

Wooyoung nuzzles against your neck, trying to hide his thinning patience. 

“I think you’ve had your fill, sweetie. Now, be a good girl and untie me, please?” 

You know that’s not a good idea. Not when he’s sounding more feral by the second, despite the softness that remains in his voice. 

You free him from the ropes.

Wooyoung’s arms immediately wrap around your hips. He lifts you from your thighs, turning to the bed and dropping you onto the fluffy sheets. You watch with glazed eyes as he trap you with his legs on each side, then he rubs his wrists, seemingly to soothe the imprints. 

“Good job on your first attempt trying to brat tame me, baby”, he says, but you can’t tell if the compliment is genuine. 

You continue to hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears, the anticipation gliding through your veins. Wooyoung’s gaze has slightly turned dark, and the both of you know how unpredictable he can get. 

“But now it’s my turn to have fun, don’t you think?” Wooyoung asks rhetorically, removing his shirt off his shoulders, knowing his bare body has you on the verge of drooling in seconds. He forces you to watch him unbutton his pants, slightly sighing when the pants are off, and you can’t help but gasp at the sight—the fabric of his underwear wet and translucent—some of his cum stains both the inside and out of his underwear. But it’s clear that he’s still thick and hard, and ready for seconds. 

He places his finger between your breasts, and he lets it slowly trail down south. Even though you’re still covered by the nightgown, well, barely, it still sends sparks up your spine and goosebumps across your skin when he passes by your stomach, down to your pelvis, and he stops right at your pussy. 

“Oh, now that I’m untied and above you, suddenly you’re cowering?” He teases. “Where’s my bold baby gone to?”

His fingers slip under the opening of your shirt nightgown, and it’s taking everything in him to not just destroy you when he’s reminded you’re not wearing panties underneath. 

Wooyoung circles your clit slowly, rubbing and pressing against it from time to time, and it makes your breathing grow more shallow. You force yourself to keep your legs open, knowing fully well that he’d trained you to keep them open when he decides to play with your pussy.

“If I’d known you’d get this excited when you’re playing with me like this, I should let you do it often”, Wooyoung mutters, his free hand sliding the thin straps of your nightgown off your shoulders. He’s enjoying watching you squirm, the way you’re subtly clawing against the sheets, the way your thighs are trembling slightly from the pleasure.

“But there’s only so much patience I have.”

Every time your thighs are about to snap shut, Wooyoung holds them apart and punishes you by edging. It’s driving you nuts.

“No. Keep them open for me.”

You whine defiantly, your thighs resisting against his unmoving muscled arms. 

“I can’t take it. I wanna be fucked now”, you frown. 

“Then beg for it, sweetie”, Wooyoung instructs, his fingertips drawing slow and light circles, knowing it’s enough to edge you. 

“Good girls beg for what they want.” 

You had it coming, honestly, and despite all of that, you would do it all over again. You bite your lip. 

“Please”, you whimper. “Fuck me, make a mess out of me, do anything you want with me, Wooyoung.”

The smile that pulls on Wooyoung’s lips matches the overflowing lust that’s gleaming in his eyes. You’re reminded well who’s really in charge here, and it sends tingles down your spine. 

“Seems I really spoiled you rotten, hm?” Wooyoung taunts, lining up his cockhead and lowering to your pulsing hole. 

“You’re lucky I adore you-“

—and he pushes his cock into you, watching the way you gasp and the way your back arches slightly. 

“And a request to make a mess out of you? Gladly.”

He groans. 

“Fuck. Even when I just fucked you dumb the other night, your pussy is just so fucking warm and tight.” 

You blink back the tears, feeling his cock dragging along your walls, pleasure just shooting through every nerve when he’s stuffed you full. 

“Obviously it wasn’t enough, was it?” 

The glint in Wooyoung’s eyes grows more feral. 

“Playing cute with me even my cock is making you dumb huh?”

His hands grab both your wrists, pining them above you, rendering you completely helpless before him.

With that satisfaction, he pulls back, before plunging back into you, giving you little to adjust before he’s completely thrusting into you, over and over, listening and watching you choke on your moans, mess up your pretty mascara with your tears, feeling the way you’re forced to take Wooyoung’s cock raw in your pussy like his good girl, cream and slick just piling over at the base of his cock, some seeping past your spent folds. 

“Wooyo-“ your voice is strained—your thighs are twitching from the pleasure, your pussy feeling so perfectly abused by his fat dick. “It’s too much—“

“You begged for it, so fucking take it, sweetie”, he curtly reminds you, offhandedly admiring the way your tits bounce every time he fucks his cock into you. 

“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Jung Wooyoung”, your moans are pathetic and loud. The sounds of wet squelching and slapping make it all the more perverted, and boy, were you and Wooyoung eating it up. 

“I’m fucking cumming. Fuck! That feels so fucking good—“

Wooyoung’s free hand has your chin in his palm, forcing you to look up at him in your fucked out and giddy ecstasy. 

The knot snaps, and you completely fall apart with your orgasm rushing into your veins, your pussy convulsing uncontrollably around his cock and your vision turning white paired with your screams of Wooyoung’s name on your lips, over and over. 

His grip on your fingers loosens, because he drags your thighs towards him, making sure his cock goes impossibly further into your pussy, grunting at the way you’re pretty much choking his cock. 

“That’s it, baby. Ready to milk me out?”, he asks, feeling himself slowly reaching his high soon. 

He knows you’re twitching and crying, and all the more he adores fucking the ever loving shit out of you, because he stills himself, and makes sure your pussy takes in every single drop of his thick cum in you. 

Wooyoung catches his breath, his mind still hazy from the orgasm, and he slowly pulls out, the whines and sobs from you sounding like music to his ears while he watches his thick white leak out of your tight hole. 

When you’re back to sobbing, twitching and leaking mess that Wooyoung enjoys turning you into, he’s satisfied. 

He retrieves the ropes from the floor. 

“I thought it was real cute of you, sweetie, knowing how to get me hot and bothered, making me go on my knees for you”, Wooyoung adds, taking both your wrists. Through your teary vision, it doesn’t take you long realise he’s binding your wrists together with said rope. 

Oh, you’re so fucked. 

Wooyoung’s fingers creep under your chin, forcing your head to tilt up to meet his gaze which swarms with his twisted desires. 

 “I guess you need a reminder of who’s the real brat here, hm?”

taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @vic0921 @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @ywtf @jeon-ify @itza-meee @miss-fallon @hwallazia @bunnyluvr25 @eggyboy5 @hourswithoutyou @iwishiwasthemoontonight @yunhogrippers @watermelon2319 @vampiregirl215 @kibs-and-bits @liyahbug05-blog @luvt0kki @httpseungmxn @sanhwajoong @bitejoongie @no1likevie @wlv-asteria @s-h-y-a @comicnerd557 or @kpopwrites @yuyusgirl @jwnghyuns @everythingboutkpop @skz1-4-3 @skteezcursed @minalizasworld @seomisaho @tunafishyfishylike

❤️ sylus bonus ❤️

[sinofwriting]

4 plus 1 - Max Verstappen (I ❤️ MILFS verse)

Words: 1,499 Summary: Four times Logan celebrated mothers day and the first time he celebrated fathers day (part of the I ❤️ MILFS verse)

Masterlist | Support Me! | I ❤️ MILFS verse

One

The first time Logan celebrated Mother’s Day, he was five. His grandpa had stolen him away from his momma, which had made him pout, but then he had crouched down in front of him and quietly asked if he wanted to buy his momma a present for Mother's Day.

His grandpa, whenever he told the story, always liked to joke that he was surprised that Logan’s head hadn’t fallen off with how hard he had nodded yes.

He had gotten taken to the store where Logan picked out a card that apparently said world’s best mom on it, which had made his grandpa grumble that he was way too young for his daughter to be a mom before letting him pick out a big bouquet of flowers.

Scrambling out of the car and into the house, Logan struggled to hold the flowers that were nearly bigger than him and the card, just barely able to see the way his momma’s jaw had dropped seeing him and the ways tears came to her eyes when he cheerfully wished her a happy momma’s day.

Two

In 2014, Logan got to celebrate mother’s days twice for the first time. His momma not even knowing or realizing that England celebrated it on a completely different day, her bemused expression at him giving her candy and a card staying in his mind.

She had still hugged him tight, pressing kisses all over his face and telling him she was the best son, which had made him squirm, telling her that she was the best momma, the two going back and forth until Logan gave up because she had started to tickle him and his stomach ached from laughing.

Three

Logan stares at the display in front of him, trying not to feel awkward with the eyes boring into him.

“Dude, these are like fifteen grand.” Oscar hisses under his breath. “Yeah and none of them are the one.” He hisses back, giving the employee a polite smile. “Do you have anything else?” Their eyes narrow a little, but they nod, an emotionless smile on their face. “Of course, Sir. Our next display.”

Following them over to the next display, his eyes immediately land on a necklace and he instantly points at it. “That one. I’ll take that one, please.” “Are you sure?” He frowns, “Yes. I’m sure.”

He turns to Oscar as they start to open the case. “Momma is gonna love that one.” “Do you have the money for that?” “Of course.” Oscar’s eyebrows raise. “Are you sure? Because if those were twenty thousand, I can’t imagine how much these will be.” Logan nods, shrugging. “Yeah. I’ve got money.”

The clearing of a throat makes Logan turn back around, the necklace is sitting on the counter in its opened box.

“This necklace is forty thousand pounds.” Logan hears Oscar taking in a sharp breath of air, but Logan is already reaching for his wallet. “I’ll take it. And no gift wrap please.” They blink at him before nodding. “Of course.”

Oscar hits his arm when they disappear with the necklace behind a curtain.

“Are you kidding me? Forty thousand pounds for a necklace? Pan is going to kill you! Mother's Day gift or not!” Logan scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I’m eighteen now and it’s my money. Momma can’t kill me for buying her this. Besides, I haven’t given her a gift under a thousand dollars since I was like six. And she’ll love that necklace.” Oscar looks at him in disbelief, shaking his head. “Okay, it is way too easy to forget that Harry is a billionaire and by proxy you are.” “Something tells me you don’t want to know how much your birthday present was.” “What does that mean?” Logan smiles at Oscar, shrugging. “Logan, what does that mean?”

Four

“Can I help with anything?” Logan jumps at the sound of Max’s voice, nearly banging his head into the opened cupboard door if not for Max, quickly yanking him back. “Shit.” He curses, turning Logan around and running a hand over his forehead and head, checking for bumps. “You okay?” “I’m okay. You just scared me.” He chuckles. “Help with what?” Max eyes him for a moment. “Mother's Day. I know that it’s in between Miami and Imola for you guys, and I didn’t know if you wanted help with anything.” “Oh.”

Logan looks at the older man, he doesn’t need any help with Mother's Day. Already has his momma’s gift sitting in his closet, but Max is asking if he can help. Max cares about their relationship, so he finds himself nodding.

“Actually yeah.” Max’s whole face lights up. “What can I do?” Logan quickly says goodbye to his momma’s Christmas gift, but he guesses that what was supposed to be her Mother's Day can just be her Christmas gift. “There’s this watch she likes, but there’s maybe ten available in the world right now.” He starts to tell Max.

Plus One

Logan has never had a father. And as much as he loves his grandpa, he wasn’t really a father figure for him. The closest he got was maybe Oscar’s dad, but even then he never really saw him enough for that. Max though… Max feels like his dad.

He cares about him, and not just because he’s dating his mom. He talks to Logan, checks in on him, before the first session of every day, Max always ducks into the Williams garage to hug him. He brings him water every time he does media, even when he isn’t scheduled for media for a few hours.

It hasn’t yet been a year, but Logan already can tell he’s fighting a losing battle of not just calling Max his dad. And he knows that Max hasn’t let himself think of himself like that. He’s heard him call him his kid a hundred times, but never once has he called himself Logan’s parent or dad. Always respecting the relationship between his mom and him and the boundaries that Logan has set.

But Logan wants Max to call himself Logan’s dad. Wants to call Max dad to his face and not just to Oscar when he’s too tired to filter or to the media to make the journalists go a little crazy.

So he finds himself laying on the couch, head in his momma’s lap as she runs her fingers through his hair.

“Can we talk?” “Always.” His lips quirk up a bit at the quick response. “It’s about Max.” Her fingers still for just a second before resuming. “What about Max?” Her voice is measured, smooth, and it gives Logan the courage to say the next words. “I want to call Max dad.” His voice goes quiet. “I want him to be my dad.” “Oh, baby.” And her voice breaks around the words.

He sits up to look at her. “Are you mad?” “No.” She smiles, reaching forward to cup his face. “No, baby. Not at all. I’m happy. I’m so happy.” “So, it’s okay?” She laughs, her free hand brushing away her tears. “Logan, you can call anyone you want dad, that’s not my choice, that’s yours.” “Do you think he’ll be okay with it? I want to do it on Father's Day. Give him a card too.” “I think Max will be over the moon.”

A week later, Logan shuffles into the living room, a breakfast tray in his hands, where Max is sitting, watching the recap for Le Mans so far.

“Hi.” He greets. Max smiles at him, “You didn’t need to bring me breakfast.” He shakes his head, stopping Max from getting up. “I wanted to. It’s a special day.” “I mean, Le Mans isn’t this kind of special.” Logan huffs out a laugh, handing over the tray to Max, who places it on the coffee table before sitting on the couch next to him.

“Get enough sleep?” Logan nods, running a hand through his hair, the other clutching at the card he has for Max. “Wasn’t too bad. I actually have something else for you, because y’know special day.” Max’s eyebrows raise and Logan can feel nerves fill him. “I still have no idea what you are talking about.” He shrugs and after a moment he passes over the card, carefully watching Max’s face.

Max looks delighted at getting handed the card, but Logan can see the moment he realizes what kind of card it is. His eyes going wide, his whole body stilling. The room would be quiet if not for the Le Mans highlights playing.

The older man carefully opens it up after a long moment, his breath catching as he reads the written words from Logan.

“Logan,” he starts, and his voice is thick. “Happy Father's Day, dad.” Logan speaks before he can say anything else. “Come here.” He finishes, opening his arms, and Logan dives into them. “I love you so much, kid. So fucking much. I’m gonna be the best dad for you.” “You already are.”

[hermetiqa]

When will you meet your future spouse?

Reminder: it doesn't matter if you saw this reading a day or a week or a month or a year after posting this. My readings are timeless. You'll see this when you're meant to see this and receive your message.

Close your eyes and take a deep breath before picking a pile. If you feel drawn to more than one pile, it's alright, you may take the piles that you're drawn to. What's important is to take it how it resonates and leave what doesn't.

PAID READINGS | TIP JAR | FEEDBACK

MASTERLIST | PLEASE HELP IF YOU CAN

NOTE: Please feel free to give me a feedback on my asks about the reading! I would highly appreciate it and it'll be a huge help for me to improve as a reader.

Pile 1

Hello, Pile 1! I feel like you'll meet your future spouse when you prefer to be alone and be away from all the people you already know. You might think of going to some camp alone and when you're getting together in the camp, you might have come up with the idea of using a different name when you introduce yourself because you intend not to share who you truly are. You might think of the names Ella, Lily, Alisha, Cindy, Helena. The spelling of the names doesn't matter, any alternative spellings or name variations could be in your mind too. You might even use an odd name, like a name known to be masculine such as Alex and George. There's a TikToker who keeps popping in my head right now, the one who has a Chloe Paddington bags and named her bags. You might have had this camp and name idea from her. I can see that your future spouse might be the one who would approach you first and start the conversation, and they really have a strong masculine energy here while you're the feminine one. I'm also getting an intuitive energy from you and you might have a feeling that you feel like you've known each other for a long time, even if it was really your first time meeting each other. You might be a fire sign and they could be a water sign, but you're quite compatible. It seems like you could have each other's sun in one's moon and/or ascendant.

Signs: dark/black hair, curly hair, brown eyes, dark/light academia fashion style, white loose button-down shirt, latino/a looks, speaks spanish and italian, campfire, marshmallows, trees, beach, seashore, lowtide, collecting seashells

Pile 2

Hello, Pile 2! As for you, I'm seeing a picnic that involves books and paintings. 01:01 on the clock right now. You might think of reading a book or doing a painting, specifically watercolor or oil painting, in the afternoon. You might do this alone in a park or somewhere that has a pond. To be more detailed, I'm getting that you might read a book in a park and would prefer to paint some place that has a pond with koi fish or water lilies so you can paint them. I'm getting the seasons spring and summer too. You could be an introvert and you often go to your comfort places to breathe and rewind. And your future spouse would notice you visiting the same place oftentimes. They could observe you for a while before approaching you as well. And I feel like they might ask you if they could join you to read a book or paint something. You might even exchange books and paintings. You might annotate each other's books and paint each other's paintings (you know the thing where you both paint something on your canvas and you exchange each other's unfinished paintings and add something, and so on).

Signs: dark/brunette hair, curly hair, blue eyes, strong jawline, downtown/retro fashion, long white skirts, baggy shirts, leather bag, doc martens, the secret history, if we were villains, ophelia, the lumineers, (curtain) bangs, wavy hair, booktok

Pile 3

Hello, Pile 3! I feel like you'll meet yours when you're doing some charity event or donating something. It could be related to dogs and/or cats, so you could be pet lovers. This might be an all-of-a-sudden decision because the charity/donation wasn't planned that much but I'm getting that you might meet there. You might organize the charity or help them organize and they'll help too, and you might do most of the work together. I'm also getting that this is when you're trying to become a better person and finally end your toxic habits. I feel like you have feminine energy but to other people, you show your masculine energy. You might think of getting something to eat together at lunch when you work together after a charity event, and this is when you'll start to know each other. You'll be interested in each other's interests and might think that you're compatible, and might suit each other. You'll be really fond of each other for a while which will lead you to some dates and hanging out a lot. I feel like you'll both reciprocate each other's wants and needs in this connection, especially with all the adjustments at first, but you'll be close friends even while you're dating, you might be comfortable to be around each other as if you're best friends.

Signs: blonde, blue/green eyes, wavy hair, daisies/flowers on hair, blue shorts, white and blue shirt, band shirts, casual fashion, flexible, gymnastics and ballet (during childhood), waffles, hotdogs, pizzas, medium hair length, straight hair, brown hair highlights, summer

[akaashislover1]

How I think the jjk guys would join you in the shower…..

Yuji Itadori, Choso Kamo, Megumi Fushiguro, Takuma Ino [EVERYONE IS AGED UP TO THE PROPER AGE]

Yuji Itadori

He probably would bang at the door(which you’d have locked for reasons to follow) pleading that he’d have to pee.

“Go use the bathroom downstairs!” You yelled over the running water. Funny how he suddenly had to pee as soon as you started the shower.

“Please, baby, I gotta piss if I take one more step I’m gonna wet my pants!” He frantically exclaimed, trying the door handle.

“No, you’ll just make me late. Again.”

It was quiet. No begging, knocking. Nothing.

You sighed as you reached behind the shower curtain to unlock the door.

“Quick, get in here before I change my mind.”

Choso Kamo

You had undressed and jumped into the shower, the hot water welcoming you in.

“I also have to have a shower before we go to.” Choso politely urged you.

You peeked your head out of the curtain and looked at him brushing his teeth.

“Why don’t you just get in here now?”

Choso coughed on a bit of toothpaste. His hair was slicked back by one of your makeup headbands.

His face was so flushed but pale at the same time.

“W-what?! But you’re in the-”

“Cho. We just had sex last night, why are you acting like you’ve never seen me before?” You laughed and choso felt his face turn red in embarrassment.

Suddenly you dragged him into the shower before he could even take off his boxers.

He had his eyes closed respectfully.

“How are you gonna wash me up if your eyes are closed?” You asked and he opened one eye at a time.

When you gave him a smile he started to relax.

He took a moment to take the view of you in.

His throat lumped up in a knot as you passed him the soap.

Maybe he should’ve started showering with you sooner.

Megumi Fushiguro

He probably would already be in the shower.

“Can I join you?” You would ask him as you peeked through the shower curtain.

Megumi let out a breathy chuckle as he made eye contact with you.

“No, all you’ll do is try to fool around. We gotta meet Itadori and Gojo in an hour.”

You gave your boyfriend a stare and a scoff in an attempt to make him feel bad for you.

It didn’t work until you began to speak.

“Fine I guess I’ll just to take a nice long shower. By myself. Good thing that one has got an amazing shower hea-”

“Get in here.”

Takuma Ino

“Hey, babe! Please come in here quick! Hurry! It’s an emergency!” You screamed from the shower.

A few seconds later you heard the quick rumble of his footsteps.

The door opened and revealed to Ino’s eyes you lying perfectly fine soaking in the tub.

“Are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt?” He asked out of breath.

You nodded your head no but a pout made its way to your face.

“The water is too cold without you.”

Ini rolled his eyes playfully,

“I can see the steam coming from the water, you liar.”

You shook your head no as Ino kept his eyes contact with you.

“Remember when I asked if you wanted to join me when I had a shower and you said no? Remember that babe?”

“This is different! It’s a bath. A shower is so quick and you hog all the water! Don’t you wanna soak with me?”

Ino gulped the nervous rock that was stuck in his throat as he thought about your bodies soaking in the tub.

Sighing, he answered, “Fine, but I am still offended from earlier.”

Woohoo!!🎉 I actually really like this one I think it’s pretty cute!!

Might make a part 2 with some other fine ass jjk men. 🩵🩵

Link to part 2💜

[msafterhours]

Play

Male Reader x Rocket Punch / EL7Z UP Yeonhee

~4.7k words

"You're overthinking this."

"No, I'm not!" you argue. "If I sneak over there, I can—"

CLANK!

A sudden bang silences your sorry excuse for hesitation as a shot glass appears in your line of sight and splashes liquor all over your arms.

“Apologies for the spillage,” Yeeun says to you. Her eyes tell an entirely different story as they roll: one of an identical exasperation that’s found in Yeoreum’s expression beside you. “A gift from the lovely lady at the end of the bar.”

You follow her gaze, eyes skipping along the bar stools until they reach the far side, where you hear hints of a giggle from the other side of the curtain of blonde they hide behind.

A sigh rips itself from your chest—not at Yeeun, mind you. Mostly at yourself, because you shouldn’t have assumed Yeonhee would let you host a party for the group without stirring up at least a bit of trouble. Then again, you didn’t expect her to put her plan into motion this early into the night.

“Ah, I see. Thanks, I guess.”

After another roll, Yeeun’s eyes turn to Yeoreum, capturing her in a conversation and leaving you entirely with no options other than to follow up on your gift. You rise, scoot in your stool, and walk around the countertop until you reach the end, where a certain someone awaits. “What are you doing, Yeonhee?”

The curtain parts as she flips her hair with a professional grace, revealing those twinkling eyes and slight smirk that refuse to ever leave your heart and mind. “Oh hey,” Yeonhee says, running a finger along the rim of her own shot glass. “You come here often?”

“This is literally my kitchen.” You remain standing, refusing to sink to her level and take the bait.

“So that’s a yes?”

You chuckle, you grimace, but most importantly, you cave. “Yes Yeonhee, I come here often.”

“Interesting …” she says, stretching the word out long enough that you almost believe her. “I would have guessed you’re the type who’d die without food delivery.”

“Hey!” you scoff, nose scrunching in indignation as you relent and pull up a stool beside her. “Who are you to talk when you’re constantly begging for me to make you midnight snacks?”

“Shush, not so loud,” Yeonhee murmurs, pulling you in closer as she leans in. “So … that means you know somewhere private we can go together?”

Her question tells you two things:

What exactly she’s trying to do with this little performance

That you chose a terrible time to try to take a drink of the drink she’d so kindly gotten for you

You fall into a fit of coughs as the burning liquid goes down the wrong pipe, leaving you gasping for air as everyone else in your apartment turns and grimaces at the sight. “Hey, you alright?”

A large hand slaps against your back, finally allowing you to inhale as Nana’s boyfriend looks at you with concern. You turn, still struggling to form words as you tell him, “Thanks, I—” but it gets cut off as another cough rips through you.

“Sorry, what was that?” he asks, leaning in closer.

You grab him by the shoulder, pulling him even closer as you finally regain the ability to string together words and whisper, “Name a number and I’ll pay you it if you can get the other six out of my apartment right now.”

“What? I—”

“Right. Now.” You silence any further questions with a slight smirk of your own, conveying everything he needs to know.

“₩200,000—”

“Done.”

“... and a favor,” he finishes.

You grimace, but in a split second and a single glance, your mind is made. Because you see her. Yeonhee. Eyes trained on you, expectations clear as day even as she’s so casual about it all: blowing a bubble with her gum—when the hell did she—hand in her hair as she twirls it around. 

“Done.” Turns out her hair’s not the only thing Yeonhee’s got wrapped around her finger.

“A pleasure,” he says, then turns to face the others. “Alright girls, first round at karaoke’s on me! We’re gonna give this guy,” he says, with a pitiful glance in your direction, “a chance to rest his vocal chords and Yeonhee a chance to play nurse. Everyone ready?”

It’s a pitiful excuse with all the subtlety of a freight train, but it seems you’re a sorry enough sight for the other members to let you off the hook. A few minutes later, once all the goodbyes are said and done, they finally depart and take their judgemental eyebrows with them, leaving you solely in the sights of Yeonhee’s fuck me eyes.

“Hey stranger,” she calls out, crossing her legs as she lounges against the countertop. “Looks like it’s just you and me now. Alone.”

“Looks like it,” you say, striding around the island to the excessive amount of alcohol intended for the party that was supposed to happen tonight. “Can I buy you a drink?”

A spark of pleasant surprise tugs at the corner of her mouth, mirth filling her expression as you play along. “Please do.”

You reach down, opening the cabinet and pulling out another pair of shot glasses—ones much bigger than you'd ever use for “responsible” social interactions. Two heaping helpings of hard alcohol later, you slide a glass across the countertop and into the expectant hand of your houseguest.

“So, what are we toasting to?” you ask. “Our good health? Family? Friends—like the ones we just kicked out?”

“Nah, nothing like that,” Yeonhee responds, the sparkle in her eye shining as bright as ever. “How about something even more special?”

“To us?” you suggest, offering your drink to her.

She leans forward, as if she’s intending to indulge and take a sip, but instead, she leans further in. It takes a moment for you to realize that she’s kissing you—subverting your expectations seems to be her specialty tonight—but as soon as the realization sets in, you’re all too eager to indulge. Your hairs stand on end as you melt into the contact, losing yourself in the connection and cursing its loss when she pulls away.

“To us,” Yeonhee confirms when you reopen your eyes and stare into hers, tipping her own glass to your lips as you both down the other’s drink, savoring the saccharine burn as it flows down your throat. You waste no time pulling Yeonhee into another, deeper kiss before she can take a breath. The faint hint of strawberry from the flavored vodka remains, but the softness of her lips is even sweeter. Your mind spirals as the kiss deepens, and the lids of your eyes shut, allowing you to focus on the other sensations overwhelming you.

The needy scrape of her teeth against your bottom lip. A moan, barely escaping her lungs and echoing against the inside of your mouth as she leans into you. Her scent: hints of vanilla hidden amongst the overpowering scents of alcohol that have long since overtaken your kitchen. Another taste entirely emerges as the kiss deepens further and her nibbles become more insistent, nipping at your skin and drawing the taste of iron from your veins.

Some foolish sense of self-preservation forces you to pull away, leaving you stunned by the sight of Yeonhee, eyes focused on you as she drags the back of her hand against her lips, wiping away any evidence of her misdeeds as she smiles all too sweetly. “You wanna like, get out of here?”

“Oh yeah? And go where?”

“You could take me back to your place.”

“Yeonhee, we … sure. Let’s go back to my place,” you accept, eyes too wide to roll as she stands and saunters over to you.

“Wonderful. Mind giving me a ride?” Yeonhee asks as she closes the distance, stunning you once more as the scent of her perfume reaches your senses.

“Of course,” you say, sweeping her up into your arms. Your heart melts all over again as she yelps in surprise, wrapping her arms around your neck as you hold her close against your chest. You circle around your living room once, twice, thrice, and while the sound effects of screeching tires and honking horns might be a bit unnecessary, the melodious laughter that rings out from Yeonhee makes it more than worth the effort.

Finally, you set her back down, but make sure to pull her into a hug, keeping her close as you whisper, “Alright babe, we’re home. What now?”

“We could do another round of shots,” Yeonhee offers, though the suggestion’s a formality at best when she pulls away from you and sits down on the couch with legs so invitingly spread. “Or …”

“I could taste something even sweeter,” you finish. A quick glimpse at her eyes gives you all the invitation you need, gives you that last bit of confirmation that your thoughts couldn’t be more aligned.

You settle into a familiar position: seated between Yeonhee’s creamy thighs, head shaking in disapproval at the sorry excuse for a pair of shorts separating you from your desires. It’s with a practiced poise that your fingers hook into the waistband of her shorts and then further still, capturing her panties and removing both barriers in a single tug.

“So eager …” Yeonhee murmurs, corners of her mouth curling as giggles slip past her lips. You lose any chance you might have had to respond as you look up into her eyes and your train of thought is completely derailed by the sight of her bottom lip, captured between her teeth as she wordlessly begs for you to continue.

Unfortunately for her, instead of diving into the main course, your exhales serve as an appetizer, cascading hot breaths across her glowing skin. Your fingertips trace symbols alongside the insides of her thighs, spelling out names, places, and whatever the fuck else your imagination can come up with as you send faint shockwaves across her synapses, triggering the slightest of shivers across her body. Any hints of laughter died many moments ago, replaced by her best attempt as disinterest as she mumbles and grumbles and asks can’t you just get on with it?, but her words quiver and die on her lips as she whimpers in frustration.

Her hands find a home in your hair and dig into your scalp, growing more insistent by the second as she stares at you through half-lidded eyes, letting out impatient, exasperated sniffles as you just barely miss her most sensitive areas. In the dim glow of your apartment, you see a faint sheen of arousal coating her folds, but it’s nothing compared to the torrent of pleas and promises as Yeonhee asks why? and please? and begs for you to stop teasing me …

Part of you wants to acquiesce, give your beautiful girlfriend what she wants like you always do, but instead, your hands clamp down on her thighs, capturing them in a firm grip, denying Yeonhee the friction she so desperately craves even as she squirms and kicks and struggles to bring herself over the edge. You’re perfectly in tune with Yeonhee’s desires, reading her shudders and shakes like notes on a sheet, using her body as the instrument of your desires as you play her a symphony of suffering, a cacophony of crescendos that you cut short before they can ascend all the way up the scale.

The performance sends ripples across the rest of her body, sending waves of tension along the tight muscles of her stomach before ascending further upward. One of your hands follows the path up to her breast and its painfully hard nipple, capturing it between two fingers and tweaking the sensitive nub, earning another heavy gasp through gritted teeth as Yeonhee loses further control of her labored breaths.

A sigh.

A plea.

A moan.

A scream.

All of it mixes together in your ears, just another drop amidst the river of incoherent muttering spilling forth from Yeonhee’s lips. There’re curses and cries, requests for mercy and hopes that you die, a spate of stammered and slurred syllables that grow your smirk ever wider as you oh so slowly inch closer to her core.

Another exhale, a brief brush of the back of your knuckle against her clit, another pinch of her nipple—you employ every tactic available in your arsenal as she slumps back against the couch, reveling in the raw desperation on her face as arousal overwhelms her ability to fight back. You’re sadistic enough to keep her teetering on that precipice for a few minutes longer, just long enough for her cloudy eyes to fog over and for every single muscle in her body to clench.

It’s at that pinnacle of tension that you pounce, lips latching onto the swollen bud of her clit and sucking hard as you slip a pair of fingers into her dripping folds. Immediately, her whimpers turn to wails then die in her throat, her voice breaking as little raindrops of relief spill from the corners of her eyes.

Yeonhee melts into the couch as the tremors overtake her and waves of pleasure crash over her body. The gasps of breath she breathes in between her sobs are your favorite song, an orchestra of overwhelming release that you demand an encore of. Even as her back arches, her toes curl, her eyelids shut and her fingertips dig into your scalp, your hunger persists, driving you to demand more.

Another thrust of your fingers. Another kiss on her thigh. Another brush against her clit. Then another. And another. Her fingers dig deeper still, clinging to you like you’re her only tether to reality even as you’re the one bringing her to the brink of madness. Her moans climb an octave, then higher still, offering little affirmations of fuck and yes and please as you chase your shared desire.

The second orgasm comes quicker and hits much harder than the first, sweeping over Yeonhee like a hurricane and leaving nothing but destruction in its wake. The way she spasms, the way she shakes, it’s picturesque how her juices leak out and coat your face. Her walls clamp down on your fingers and force you to slow your pace to a crawl, allowing Yeonhee to come down from the high you’ve brought her to.

With that, you finally withdraw from her, mesmerized by the sight of her chest rising and falling in time with the heavy breaths she desperately sucks into her lungs. “So?” you ask, shamelessly smug as you lick the juices off of your soaked fingers. “Was that everything you were hoping for when you saw me from across the bar?”

“Not even close,” Yeonhee fires back, eyes burning bright as she stands and meets your eyes. “But it’s a damned good start.”

She leans in before you can reply, capturing your lips with fervent need as she pulls you close. “You know what I think?” she murmurs.

“What?”

“You, my dear,” Yeonhee murmurs. “Are way too overdressed.”

Yeonhee punctuates her point by dropping your belt to the ground—when did she even—and skating her hands up your stomach before hooking her fingers into the waistband of your jeans. With an insistent tug, she catches your eyes, pouting oh so prettily. Her teeth catch in her lower lip, pressing against it so, so softly as even as her desire threatens to set the room ablaze. And just in case that wasn’t enough—

“Please?”

No’s never an option when she asks so nicely. You do as she desires, lifting your shirt above your head and plunging the room into darkness for a moment. As your vision returns, you’re met with the sight of an empty room, save for Yeonhee’s shirt fluttering in the wind, acting as the sole hint as to where she’s gone. Well, that and the melodious laughter echoing down the hallway.

A soft smile spreads across your face as you follow the sounds of her footsteps, leaving a trail of clothes in your wake as your mind races. Part of you wants to play this slow, deny her desires even further, but that single syllable echoes throughout your head. Please. It’s unfair, really. She’s unfair. But that’s also what makes it so fucking fun.

At the top of the stairs awaits the entrance to your bedroom, and within lies an image that stops your heart for a swift second: Yeonhee, lounging atop the bed, her golden river of hair cascading over the pillows as she licks her lips at the sight of you.

“So.”

“So?”

“So,” you deadpan, taking slow, measured steps until you reach the foot of the bed. “What now?”

“I had an idea … if you’re willing to humor me,” Yeonhee offers, recapturing her hair around her finger and twirling it around, just like she did at the start of all of this.

“I’ve been doing so all night, no reason to stop now,” you jest, earning a mirrored smile that manages to just barely hint at Yeonhee’s adorable charm beneath the sultry expression.

“So … what if I laid back?” Yeonhee asks as she twists herself on the bed and hangs her head off its edge. Her eyelashes, still damp from your earlier torment, flutter up at you and send your stomach spiraling into knots. There’s this magnetism to her, something about those doe-like eyes that sends you into decision paralysis as you ponder whether to lean down and kiss her on the nose or shove your cock down her throat and see just how messy your pretty girl can get for you.

“What if you took this incredible cock,” she purrs, warm breath cascading over your cock and sending shivers down your spine. She tilts back and parts her lips, mirth lurking in the corner of her smirk as she asks:

“And fucked my face like this?”

Your body reacts before the words even register in your mind, one hand cupping her cheek as the other guides your cock closer, positioning yourself right above her face. Her eyes widen in both desire and delight as she opens her mouth even wider, allowing you to push yourself forward into her waiting warmth. Yeonhee wraps her lips around you, enveloping you and sucking you even deeper as her tongue darts forth, exploring every available inch of your shaft as you continue ever deeper.

A deep, guttural groan rips itself from your chest as Yeonhee bobs her head back and forth, sending waves of boiling crimson through your veins. Both of your hands find a home amidst the silky strands of Yeonhee’s hair, gripping tighter with every withdrawal and subsequent thrust of your hips. Your eyes keep glancing downwards, checking for fear in your lover’s eyes, but Yeonhee meets your stare every time with a mirror of the desire and arousal she evokes in you so effortlessly.

As your breaths shorten, Yeonhee’s tongue grows more daring, more insistent. Her intoxicating presence quickly overwhelms your senses; the sight of her in such a vulnerable position, the scent of her skin so tantalizingly close to you, and the downright vile symphony of chokes gasps moans and more as she struggles to withstand the intensity she demands of you. Even with her words taken from her, the way she claws at the inside of your thighs and the seal her lips have on your cock—she makes every single movement and action with the single-minded focus of bringing you to an orgasm just as intense as the ones you’ve given her.  

Your pulse quickens, pulses, and rises, pounding at an elevated, erratic rate as you approach the edge. As you look down and catch one last sight of the beauty giving herself wholly for your pleasure, you do nothing to fight the oncoming storm, instead allowing yourself to tip over the edge into bliss.

The first of your senses to go is sight. Your view of the room goes dark as your head feels light, disconnected from the only part of your body demanding attention.

The next is sound. Any chance you have of hearing the harsh and heavy groans of pleasure reverberating out from your gasping lips is lost, swept up under the current of the sanguine rush pounding in your ears.

Touch spares you no such mercy. Your teeth grit as shockwave after shockwave pulse up your spine and to each and every one of your extremities, turning what would otherwise be an already incredible orgasm into a full-on out-of-body experience.

You remain unmoving, barely keeping upright and at the mercy of the merciless mess before you. Yeonhee refuses to let up even for a moment, oxygen unimportant as she laps at your shaft, gulping down each drop of your cum until she’s drained every ounce of pleasure from you.

Only then, when your sight is barely coming back into focus, do you see her: a single string of saliva connecting the corner of her lips to your cock before breaking off and glistening on her chin. With a coy smirk, Yeonhee wipes it away, making a show of lapping it up off of the back of her hand as her eyes sparkle with sultry satisfaction.

A moment of silence passes between you two, one you’re more than willing to spend admiring the aftermath of your shared desires. Yeonhee’s face is an absolute fucking mess, cheeks flushed with pleasure, lips reddened and swollen, altogether a perfect image of debauched beauty.

There’s something about Yeonhee like this, eyes half-lidded as she awaits her well-deserved praise that kick-starts your heart in a way no one else has even come close to replicating.

“Fucking hell, Yeonhee,” you murmur as you climb into the bed beside her and take her into your arms.

“Wasn’t that fun?” she asks, words light and airy as her eyes sparkle, faux innocence painted on every feature as if she hadn’t nearly sucked out your soul. “Pretty good idea, right?”

“Oh yeah babe, 11/10, no notes,” you respond with a huff, flopping onto your back like a starfish as your eyes close and you take a deep inhale.

The opening notes of your favorite song play as laughter overtakes Yeonhee, sending her into a fit of giggles that leaves you short of breath all over again. A small oof escapes past your lips as she lightly hits your chest, letting out one last bit of playful energy before she snuggles up against your side and wraps her arms around your torso. “The night’s still young, you know. I bet the others haven’t even finished their first round of drinks at the karaoke bar.”

“Oh?” you ask, eyebrow arched even as your eyelids remain firmly shut. “Were you hoping to join them?”

“Of course not. Do you want to be the one who has to explain that you faked an illness just because we were too horny to wait any longer?”

“What do you mean ‘we’? You were the one who just had to play out their filthy fantasy right then and there,” you fire back, opening up your eyes just enough to glare at her.

“I don’t seem to remember you putting up much of a fight,” she responds, shrugging as she looks away to hide her smile.

You opt to let silence be your response because, well, she’s right, but honestly, when you pull her close and feel the way she nuzzles her face into your chest and you catch a whiff of the floral scent of her conditioner, you realize you have higher priorities.

“So.”

“So?”

“Round two?” you ask.

“Wasn’t that round two?” Yeonhee asks, eyebrows scrunching together in deep thought.

“I’d argue that was the second half of part one—evening things out, if you will.”

“I think the pause and change of location means it’s a whole new round.”

“This whole thing started because you pretended my kitchen was a bar and that we were complete strangers. Is this really the time to argue semantics?”

“Actually, yes; I would argue immersion is integral to—”

“Yeonhee.” You cut her off there, interrupting her mid-sentence as you shift your weight atop hers and pin her wrists to the headboard. Your other hand finds a home in her hair once more, twirling those golden locks as you let the silence speak volumes.

“Yes?” she whimpers, eyes wide and breaths heavy.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Another moment passes. Another. Her pulse pounds in your grip, her lips part, her chest heaves, yet you let the silence linger. The air grows tense, making it hard for even you to breathe, but you hold your tongue, patient enough to make her ask, “Why?”

You free your hand from her hair, instead using it to position your cock as you line yourself up with her sopping heat. As you’re about to slip inside her, you lean forward, letting your lips brush against her ear as you whisper, “Because I’m going to make you lose count.”

With that, you push forward into her once more, eliciting another gasp that dies in your mouth as you claim her lips with your own. Her body presses against you, back arching in a truly exquisite display of the pleasure overtaking her. Bit by bit you press onward, breath tight in your chest as you pull away from the kiss and her velvety interior suffocates your cock.

Yeonhee’s breaths come in short, desperate puffs, ragged and scarce as you ruin her further; her teeth find a familiar home in her lower lip as she tries to suppress the signs of satisfaction showing across every inch of her immaculate form, but fails spectacularly.

“More than you bargained for?” you tease, running your thumb over her bruised bottom lip. She opens her mouth obligingly and sucks on your thumb, tongue tickling the pad before moving on to nibble on your knuckle.

“It’s never too much for me,” Yeonhee pants out, words still shaky as she rolls her hips up to meet yours, issuing a further challenge.

“You’re insatiable,” you chuckle. Yeonhee begins to respond, but you silence her once more by capturing her hips in your hands and slamming them down against the bed. You keep her pinned there, perfectly in place for you to achieve your pleasure. Each thrust becomes more insistent, finding a deeper depth inside of her as her hands grasp and claw at your scalp.

Everything feels too close yet not enough—the curve of her body molds against yours, legs clasping around your waist and pulling you ever deeper; she looks at you through tear-stained lashes, eyes unfocused as she tries to keep sight of you. Her fingers weave into your hair and pull, sending tingles of ecstasy and agony into your mind as she clings to her only tether to reality.

Somewhere in the heat of these moments, time fades into irrelevance, seconds slipping past like grains of sand through your fingers. You pin her to the bed, push her up against the headboard, pull her into the shower, bend her over the sink, toss her onto the bed once more, and drown her in the waves of euphoria all over again. Long after the clock ticks forth into a new day, you sink into the silky sheets alongside Yeonhee. You look over and you’re mesmerized by the sight of her, skin shining with the sheen of sweat as she wears your cum as a point of pride.

“Tired yet?” she challenges you, smirking as she trails her delicate fingertips down your chest.

“Fucking exhausted,” you admit, smiling just as wide as her eyes sparkle with mirth. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t go another round if you’re desperate for more.”

“Oh god no, I still need to walk out of here in the morning. Hold me though?”

Yeonhee tries to rest her head against your chest, but you’re quick to pull away and respond, “Go clean up first, you’re a fucking mess.”

“And whose fault is that?” she huffs, crossing her arms in protest.

Your eyes roll, but you sweep her into your arms as you stand, chuckling to yourself as she yelps in surprise and wraps her arms around your neck. “Fine, we go wash up and then we can snuggle as much as you like. Deal?”

“Deal.”

…

…

…

“You're such an idiot, I can't believe you got Yeonhee sick,” Yeoreum huffs from the other side of the phone.

“What do you mean? She seemed fine when she left earli—last night.”

“Really? She's been complaining all day that her throat hurts!”

“O-oh,” you stammer, badly masking your surprise with a cough as your phone dings. “That is … yeah. My bad then, sorry.”

(My most genuine gratitude to @capslocked for their assistance in making this fic far better than it would have been otherwise and for just being significantly more helpful than I could have ever hoped for. I have two other short story ideas in mind that I'll likely try to finish before diving into a mid-length project, after which I think I'm going to try and fully tackle the Saccharine rewrite. As always, thank you so very much for choosing to spend your precious time reading my work, it means everything to me.)

[marsbutterfly]

Too Sweet

Summary: For the past few weeks, Hanji has locked themselves away in their office, away from prying eyes, including your own. But your heart can clearly tell when something is wrong with your beloved.

a/n: hey everyone <3 this story is entirely based on the cover art by my amazing artist friend @kylekoraki ! please show them some love and everyone say "thank you" to kyle for drawing this! <3 here's their twitter as well <3

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: canon setting, fem!reader, non-binary!hanji zoe, no warnings really, just some heavy kissing. not really beta read, we die like men <3

 ao3 | wattpad | cover by: @kylekoraki | wc: 4.2k

You knock on the door. Once, twice, thrice. No answer. A grunt escapes your lips and you roll your eyes, repeating the action. Once, twice, thrice. Nothing again. Now a frown takes the place of the smile that used to rest on your face, you know they are in there, you can hear the papers being shuffled around, the tapping of their pen, the shadow of their body as they pass by the door, even faintly the sound of the ice that clinks around their whiskey glass.

You raise your hand to knock again, but before you even have the chance, the door opens. Barely enough for any light to make it through but you see the faint silhouette of Hanji's lips pouting. "You know that when someone doesn't answer, it means they want to be left alone, right?" Their voice is low, almost as if they are making sure to remain quiet to not attract any more unnecessary attention.

"But... it's me.." you respond just as softly, a pout of your own forming, "I'm not like other people."

“y/n…” They begin, moving their glasses from the spot on their face towards the top of their head, pushing their bangs backward in the meantime. Their brown eyes stare at you for what feels like forever, their mind hiding behind an ocean of thoughts and an expression you can’t quite decipher this time around.

They want you to stay, to hold you in their arms as they sit here in the comforting silence of your presence, but instead, they shake their head, trying their best to remove any thoughts of what your warmth would do to them. A heavy sigh makes its way past their lips, the eyebags under their eyes more present than ever as they begin to talk again.

“Please, I’m fine,” they respond. What Hanji fails to realize is that their voice did a slight tremble, not noticeable to anyone else but you know them better than the palm of your own hand. They are the pure representation of your heart beating outside of your chest, so seeing them in such distress is enough to make you act against direct orders, consequences be damned.

“You are not,” you respond. Their office is a mess, their research papers scattered around with drawings and models of flying boats, new weapons, and ways to improve the Survey Corps all around. A thousand and one ideas, some connecting and some just scattered around the wind. 

The whiskey bottle that until a few weeks ago rested full to the brim on their bookshelf now finds itself on its last few sips, the curtains are drawn so no amount of light other than the small candles at the edge of their table can exist in the room and you even notice a few shards of broken glass, probably meaning that they have dropped a cup or two, either from exhaustion or from not being able to see in the dark.

“When was the last time you ate anything?” You ask, gently taking the whiskey glass out of their hand. You notice a small blush creeping its way onto their cheeks as their eyes pointedly avoid yours and, by these simple reactions, you can tell it has been a while, “You’re losing weight.”

They try to reach for the glass once more but you shake your head, pulling it further away. Even though they are stronger than you and could easily take it back if they wanted to, they don't. Instead, Hanji leans against their desk, crossing their arms in front of their chest as they let out a heavy sigh. They want to lie, to tell you they are fine, and pretend like nothing is wrong, but before a single false promise about their well-being can make its way past their lips, you speak up again.

“I can tell you haven’t been sleeping,” your voice is soothing, not an ounce of frustration or anger behind it, just plain worry. You take a step closer, fully prepared for another rejection but it doesn’t come this time around, though you still don’t dare take a deep breath until the moment your fingertips brush against their left cheek, just slightly beneath their eyepatch, “you look exhausted.”

“Now that’s just rude!” An exhausted chuckle escapes their lips as they nuzzle their face into your hand, their expression contorting from anguish to a somewhat relaxed one and it causes your heart to nearly stop for a second before between at three times the usual speed, you are convinced they can hear it from where they stand. “I’ll have you know that I look awesome.”

It’s your turn to chuckle, your worries melting away for simply a second before coming back at full force, knowing way too well that redirecting attention and humor have always been Hanji’s favorite ways of avoiding a serious conversation.

“Hanji…” You start, your tone of voice sounding just as exhausted and defeated as theirs. It drags a loud sigh out of their chest, but as their mouth opens to complain, you continue, a begging tone in your voice as your eyes fill with unwashed tears, “Please, just talk to me.”

That look is enough to cause a painful bang to shoot throughout their body, their heart dropping to their stomach with the knowledge that it is their fault that you look this way. So, without even realizing it, they are already taking a couple of steps forward, hands tightly grasping at your hips as they lean their forehead against yours.

“I’ve just been so busy,” they whisper, the broken tone in their voice creates a tight knot in your throat and the sensation only grows stronger as they continue to speak, “Paperwork, meetings, and any free time I have I go to the lab, trying to complete some old experiments I’ve had from years ago. Even if I try to sleep, I just… Lay there, staring at the ceiling, maybe getting two or three hours here and there.”

You sigh, your arms immediately wrapping around their neck as you pull them close. Their eyelashes bat against the skin of your neck as they close their eyes, a shaky breath escaping them as they inhale your scent, focusing on the way your body feels and smells.

At that moment, an idea hits you. Without disturbing the hug, you look around the messy room, quickly taking in the setting before noticing that, for once, their couch rests next to the window, uncluttered and undisturbed. 

Reluctantly, you pull away from them and the first thing you can hear is a grunt of disapproval. Once your eyes meet again, their pupils are so big, they could only be compared to a puppy dog that has just discovered steak for the first time, pleading, begging even, “Why’d you do that?”

Without an answer, your hand slides with theirs, fingers lacing and fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. Their palm is slightly wet, though you can’t quite place if it is from the condensation from the whiskey glass they held earlier or if it is from nervous sweats. Regardless, all you can focus on is how warm their presence feels close to you.

You don’t speak, instead, you just guide their body towards the couch, their feet dragging behind you, “what are we doing?” They ask, their eyes already fighting to remain open in a combination of the exhaustion and the fuzzy feeling from being drunk, the comfort you bring them doesn’t help either. They are clearly forcing themselves to stay awake, wanting to spend all of this time with you instead of stubbornly trying to push you away.

“We are not doing anything,” you respond, taking a seat on the couch. Your free hand brushes against the spot next to you and they quickly catch onto what you are hinting, your words finally clicking in their head as they flash you a confused look, “You, on the other hand, are going to sleep for a while.”

Their eyes widen for a second as your words take them by surprise, a small groan of protest making its way past their chapped lips, “mmmmm, noo, I can’t… I have so much work that I need to get done… I don’t... Have time to sleep.”

Carefully, you bring your hand towards the back of their head, pulling the ponytail holder out of their hair to make sure they are more comfortable for the next step, which includes guiding their head down towards your thighs. It doesn’t take much effort nor does Hanji put up much of a fight, their body is completely exhausted after all.

“Mmmm,” they whine, their voice filled with a mixture of exhaustion and stubbornness, almost like a child who refuses to lay down for nap time, but once again, they don’t put up a fight, “damn it, how could I ever say no to you?”

“You can’t,” you chuckle, your fingers beginning to comb through the knots in their hair, detangling the strands, your nails gently scratching their scalp while you are at it, “I promise I will be here when you wake up. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your words are soft, carrying so much love that it is almost impossible for Hanji not to melt on the spot. The warmth of your legs combined with the feeling of your fingers going through their hair is finally enough to relax their overly exhausted body, their eyes finally closing and you use your free hand to remove their glasses, hanging it up on the neckline of your shirt.

“Finnneeeee,” Hanji whines once more, turning their body over so their face is buried in your stomach, their slim body now curled into a small ball on the couch and you can’t help but smile at the sight, “but do not let me sleep for more than thirty minutes. An hour, tops.”

You lift your eyes slightly to take a look at the clock on the wall, a gift from Kiyomi to celebrate your relationship. Silently, you take note of the time and look back down at your beloved, a soft, whispered “okay” leaving your lips.

“I’m serious,” Their voice starts sounding more sluggish by the second, their mind already starting to drift off but they fight back sleep for a few extra minutes, just enough to finish the conversation between the two of you, their voice extremely drowsy, “I’ll be mad if you don’t wake me up.”

“I would not dream of doing such a thing,” you respond, unsure if they recognize the mischievous tone in your words or not, but truly hoping that, if they do, they are simply choosing to ignore it. Even so, the way you speak brings them so much comfort, a sense of peace they haven’t felt since becoming commander, “just sleep, my love. I’ll be here.”

The moment Hanji hears you whisper that promise, the certainty that you will be here when they wake up, it’s like a switch flips inside of their mind and they finally allow their body to relax against your touch. Much like a cat, they purr as you continue to run your fingers through their hair, unable to avoid the smile that is now stamped on their lips.

“Thank you, love you,” they whisper, their voice is barely audible and you almost miss it. You don’t even have time to respond before they are completely asleep, the weight of the countless sleepless days finally catching up with their body.

When the first hour passes, you look up from your book, your eyes landing on the clock before making their way down towards Hanji’s face. They look so peaceful, their breathing is so calm and even that it soothes your own worries away and it takes every ounce of your strength not to lay down and nap with them. 

The decision to let them continue their slumber is an easy one. Eventually, you notice a small smile that tugs the corner of their lips in their sleep and you can’t help but wonder and hope that they are dreaming of you. Nevertheless, your fingers continue to go through the strands of their hair, even if it makes flipping the pages of your book a bit difficult, you manage to find a solution by placing it down on the armrest of the couch before using your pinky and ring fingers to hold the object down while the remaining digits flip towards the next page.

Another hour goes by and you start to ponder if you should wake them up. Maybe letting them sleep for this long wasn’t such a good idea, especially since you know they have to return to their duties as commander of the Survey Corps, such as continuing their research and sketching plans for the flying boat. But you can see it in their expression, the small specs of the bubbly person they used to be finally showing back up on their features as they sleep, small reminders of the bright light that has saved you from darkness more times than you can count.

You gasp softly when Hanji stirs slightly in your lap, your heart clenching in your chest as you continue to look down at them, scared that you moved too much and it caused them to wake up. Their expression is still undisturbed, almost like a cat that has just found the warmest spot on the window sill and you catch yourself smiling at them. A silly, love-sick smile that only they can bring out of you.

As the third-hour rolls by and you are trying to convince yourself that it is time to wake them up, you hear a knock on the door and your entire body freezes. You find yourself torn by the two options:

1) Do you say something loudly enough for the person on the other side to hear and risk waking Hanji up in a stressful way before throwing them directly into a situation in which they need to be the Commander, and not the bubbly Hanji Zoe you once loved so dearly.

2) You silently hope that the soldier on the other side will either go away soon or open the door quietly. The couch, though it is by the window, still has a perfect view of the front door to their office, so the person would quickly notice the situation and you would be able to calmly wake Hanji at your own pace, without any negative or stressful interactions.

A second, more forceful knock comes and you notice Hanji slowly starting to shift on your lap. The annoyed expression on your face morphs into one of anger and, as the shadow on the door side moves to knock for a third time, you decide to throw a pillow at the surface.

The person stops midway with their movements before their hand slowly comes to rest on the knob, twisting it slightly as the door quietly swings open. In front of you stands a very nervous scout, one of the new recruits, who hasn’t even been able to choose a specialty yet. His hands are trembling and he nearly drops the stack of papers he holds in his grasp, eyes bugging out of his skull as he looks at you and the sleeping figure on your legs.

“P-paperwork… F-for the C-Commander…” His voice is quiet and trembling, almost as if he is stepping directly into a monster’s lair. You realize in this moment just how intimidating Hanji is in everyone else’s perspective but your own and you can’t help but smile. You nod and gesture your head towards their desk, placing your index finger in front of your lips.

“I-it’s from… Instructor S-Shadis,” he says in the quietest of whispers, but you could already tell. Keith Shadis’ ugly handwriting was something you could identify from a mile away if you had to, “r-reports about… T-the ranking c-ceremony.”

“Thank you,” you mouth the words softly, your fingers moving on Hanji’s hair. They look so small and calm, almost like a harmless kitten, a direct contrast to the authoritative figure that can command an entire room with just a single look in their eye.

The boy nods, his trembling legs making their way towards the wooden table and carefully placing the new stack of paper next to the old ones, trying his best to make sure it is neatly organized while desperately avoiding eye contact with you. He does a quick salute towards you before eagerly exiting the room and you can nearly hear his breath of relief once he is out of sight, outside the closed doors.

You shake your head before looking down at Hanji once more to see a smile on their face. You roll your eyes, “how long have you been awake for?”

The smile on their face grows bigger, their eyes opening slowly to look at you, still a blurry image from the lack of their glasses but still enough for their heart to beat slightly faster, “since the first knock.” Of course, you think to yourself, “How long was I asleep for?”

You look at the clock, and a part of you wants to lie, say it’s only been thirty minutes or so but when you look out the window, you realize the sun has already started to set, making it impossible for such a thing to be even remotely believable. You sigh again.

“Around three hours…” You respond in a sheepish voice, avoiding their gaze. Immediately, Hanji sits up, placing their glasses above the bridge of their nose and looking at the clock on the wall. Once they look back at you, you can see the slightly irritated expression on their face and you feel like you could just shrink and disappear under such a harsh gaze.

“y/n, you promised!” They blur out and you can tell it isn’t anger or irritation… It’s an intense pile of anxiety, hidden behind the harsh facade they attempt to put up. They’re scared that something went wrong in the period they have been sleeping, like the Survey Corps might have fallen apart and they were doing something so useless such as taking a nap. A single thought is going through their mind, those words they have been chanting like a mantra since the fateful day in Shiganshina.

Erwin Would Never.

You stand up a mere second after them, watching closely as their hands grip the edges of the desk and their head hangs low, hips tilted forward in a desperate attempt to hold themselves upright. It breaks your heart to see them like this and, no matter how much you agree with Erwin that Hanji should be the next Commander, you can’t forgive him for leaving such a massive responsibility on their shoulders.

So your arms wrap around their waist, your cheek finding a perfect spot in the area between their shoulder blades. You nuzzle your face against their vest, nearly purring as you do. The smell of Hanji’s skin, mixed with a little bit of sweat as a result of their nap awakens the butterflies in your stomach and the only thing able to bring you out of your thoughts is the broken sound of their voice.

“How long were you going to let me sleep for?” They whisper, a hint of desperation behind their tone and you notice they are shaking. You tighten your grip around them.

“For as long as you needed,” you respond and, at the sound of their quiet sob, your heart shatters. “You haven’t been eating or sleeping, you are drinking in the middle of the day and, well, you are pulling away from me.”

With a long sigh, they turn around, a defeated expression on their face, “Y/n, I’m a mess. I’ve always been a mess. I’m always overthinking things, I’m mean, I’m stubborn, please. I need to catch up on my work, it’s so much paperwork and it just keeps piling up…”

“Hanji, you’re spiraling,” you whisper, fingertips almost featherlike as they brush against their arm. You hope and pray and nearly fall to your knees begging that they will listen to your voice, that they will give you time to make your case and prove that they are so much more than anything they are thinking, but they continue.

“Erwin’s one mistake was making someone like me the commander,” they whisper in the most defeated tone you have ever heard. It’s like something in your mind snaps and you immediately grab a hold of their wrist, flipping them around before pressing your body against theirs on the table.

“Now you listen to me and you listen good,” your voice is stern in a way Hanji had never heard before, it’s filled with pain, heartache, and still so much love, “Erwin wouldn’t have made you Commander if he didn’t think you would be a perfect choice. And I agree.”

Hanji wants to protest, they want to contradict you but the desperate look in your eyes convinces them to remain silent. Instead, they focus all of their attention on your words, into the amount of effort it takes you not to break into tears as you listen to their self-deprecating words, the doubt in their mind. They focus on the way your lips move and how desperately they want to kiss you.

“You are the reason why we were able to eradicate titans outside the wall, you created the thunder spears that were enough to scare off the armored titan,” you continue, the trembling in your hands is so intense you can barely contain your grip on them but you don’t let go nevertheless, “Moblit sacrificed himself for you because he believed you could guide us towards the world outside the walls. Erwin entrusted the Survey Corps to you because you are the most brilliant person any of us has ever seen. Please, just… Tell me you at least believe me.”

They don’t respond, not because they don’t want to, but because their voice won’t come out. It’s as if their brain has lost connection with their vocal chords and all they can focus on is the tears that threaten to fall from your eyes. 

So in one swift move, Hanji grabs a hold of your wrist and immediately switches places with you. You can’t help but yelp quietly, especially when you feel their hands grasping at the back of your thighs as they lift you. Your hands reach behind you, carefully assessing the area while trying not to mix any of their paperwork, but Hanji doesn’t have a single care in the world that isn’t you at this moment.

Their eyes hungrily stare at your lips and, with a silent nod of their head, you push away all the papers that were once so neatly organized on their desk. Once you are sitting down and your legs wrap around their waist, Hanji wastes no time in sealing their lips with yours, a delighted hum escaping your body once they do.

You wrap your arms around their neck, allowing your fingers to venture through the messy strands of their hair. Their fingers dig into your hips, strong enough to nearly leave a few bruises but neither of you care, the need you have for each other overwhelms any and every other one of your senses.

Their tongue slowly glides on your lower lip before they gently take it in between their teeth, pulling the skin towards them. After a few seconds, they let go and immediately begin to silently beg for entrance, using the tip of their tongue to nudge your lips apart and it doesn’t take you long to indulge.

They pull you closer to themselves, your bodies pressed together without a single inch of free space as they hold you, nearly afraid that you might disappear the second they loosen their grip. It’s the first time you have kissed in what feels like forever, even if it has been just a few weeks.

You can’t help but focus on the taste of whiskey in their mouth, it’s completely different from anything ever made inside the Walls. It nearly tastes “expensive”, for the lack of a better word. It’s been hours since they have last taken a sip and the flavor is still so vivid on their tongue. So much so that it nearly burns once your saliva begins mixing.

It’s only when the need for air becomes unbearable that the two of you pull away, a small string of saliva connecting your bodies. You run your tongue over your lip, breaking that connection and still getting one last taste of them. The sight causes a shiver to run down Hanji’s spine and they smile, gently placing their forehead against yours.

“I needed that,” they whisper, a smile stamped across their face and you nod, “I’m sorry for pushing you away, I’m just… Having a lot of big feelings that I couldn’t express but I have you now.”

“It’s okay, just don’t forget that I am here for and with you, okay?” You whisper back in a love-filled voice and they smile once more, nodding their head as their grip around you tightens ever so slightly, “You still taste like home.”

“Yeah? And what does that taste like?” They chuckle, nuzzling their nose against yours, enough that you can feel their glasses against your face.

“Like expensive whiskey,” you respond and Hanji laughs, the sound you’ve missed most these past few weeks and you are reminded yet again that home is whatever, wherever and whenever you are with them. No matter what.

[aft3rhrs]

— heaven ღ

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: romance

warnings: yandere, allusions to kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, mentions of reader getting locked up, a tiny (👌) bit of angst, possessiveness, corruption kink, rough sex, choking, praise, humiliation, dirty talk, hair pulling, implied big!dick jk 💁‍♀️, he's a simp, creampie, some aftercare & lots of kisses, still messed up tho lmao I'm sorry <3

It never seemed heaven would be so dark. A room draped in shadows, the door carefully locked. Not even a glint of moonlight broke through the drawn curtains; complete isolation from the world down below.

Even if Jungkook turned on the lights, you wouldn't have been able to see much; not with your face pressed into the mattress rocking beneath your knees. The headboard banged against the wall rhythmically, the sound mingling with each slap of his balls against you, thrusts deep and hard, stretching you out to your limits.

You could feel his chest pressing down onto your back, skin warm and sweaty. His hand remained on your head, lips glued to your ear. The sounds spilling out of them made your head spin, drool seeping into the sheets by your open mouth.

"Always such a good girl for me," he whispered, hot and low. His fingers tangled in your hair, giving it a tender pull. "Fuck me back." His free hand squeezed your hip, encouraging you to move. "Come on, baby. Fuck me back."

Your pussy clenched, muffled whines growing louder. Mindlessly, your hips moved with Jungkook's guidance, numb to anything but the searing pleasure of his cock spearing through you.

"Yeah— fuuck—" the soft groans turned deeper, your little hole soaked and so fucking desperate; just the way he liked it. Just as desperate for him as he was for you.

He grit his teeth, trying to hold a little longer, abdomen tensing against you.

"I love you," he gasped, "tell me what you want, baby. I'll give you anything you want."

A hiss escaped him when he felt you tighten again, signaling that you knew exactly what he meant, and your pretty, little head was no less depraved than his own. That only spurred him on, made his hips snap against your ass faster, sloppier, sweat shining on his temple.

He wasn't expecting you to be coherent and provide an answer to his question; it was like he just wanted to establish dominance, mark his claim, driven by the sadistic instincts that flickered to life in him in the raw dark, like stars. Equally charming and destructive.

"Gonna," he breathed, the slaps of skin against skin harsh and relentless, "gonna come on my cock, you pathetic whore? You're so good for me. You know you're mine, only mine, and this little pussy knows it too. Always so fucking wet for me."

It seemed more like taunting than a simple reminder; he was trying to get under your skin. As if he didn't already make a home within your ribcage. As if he hasn't infested your bloodstream the first time he had kissed you. The filthy words messed with your mind, made your hole pulse around him harder with each thrust.

"Mm, fuck, fuck, ah, why so quiet tonight?" He moaned into your ear, gently slipping his hand around your neck. He gave it a firm squeeze, immediately getting one back on his cock, throbbing and slippery as it pounded into you. "Come all over me, kitten, don't hold back."

You whimpered, your thighs shaking under his, teeth biting into your lower lip, hard. Didn't he fuck your brains out in the last three months? There should have been no thoughts left there at all, and yet something seemed to be wrong, like some semblance of doubt was keeping you hostage tonight. Didn't he do a good job getting rid of that? Jaw tensing, he choked you harder, snapping his hips forward faster.

"I said be a good girl and come for me," he gritted.

He was desperately close himself, his cock hot and swollen, spurting precum as it rubbed against your walls.

"Fucking come for me," Jungkook groaned. "This was supposed to be a celebration. Stop holding back. Do you want me to bring you back down to the fucking basement?"

You gasped, but he could barely hear it over his ragged breathing; how tightly his veiny hand enveloped your frail neck didn't help. However, he could still feel you, especially on his sensitive cock.

"Oh... oh, fuck, are you—"

You quivered around it, so tight his movements stuttered, white spots dancing around his vision at the sensation.

"Did you just come? You want me to keep you like a fucking pet, baby? Oh god, yeah—"

A burst of warmth spilled inside you, your skin tingling and head fuzzy with the limited oxygen his grip on you provided. You shuddered under him, moaning as he fucked his cum deep into your abused cunt. You could feel him all the way in your stomach, his groans loud as kept twitching inside you. Oh, he liked this; how much he corrupted you, how hard you came at the thought of him owning you. He liked it, because he came hard as well, hand loosening around your throat as his hips stilled, last, few spurts of hot seed shooting into you.

You tried to catch your breath, soft kisses trailed along your shoulder slowly bringing you back down from your high. You felt warm, satiated, full; you felt Jungkook's lips quirking in a satisfied smile against your skin, too, his cheek resting on your neck.

"Good girl," he whispered. "So good. I love you."

"I love you," you sighed, eyes slipping shut.

Jungkook hummed.

"Finally got your voice back?" He brushed your hair to the side, exposing more of your skin, his lips pressing into your cheek. "Should I be concerned, baby? Do you want me to stay a little longer?"

You shook your head. Any other time, Jungkook would have cleaned you up, especially before going anywhere. Tonight, though, he wanted you just like this. Naked, in his bed, with his cum dripping out of you while you drifted off. You didn't seem to mind either, heartbeat and breathing steadying as he started getting dressed.

You were almost asleep by the time he crouched down by the bed, the touch of his lips on yours making you stir.

"You know this is just for show, right?"

His question was soft, eyebrows furrowed. No matter how strong, it looked like not even Jungkook could escape some monsters — something like doubt, something like fear. Everything only felt amplified when it came to you.

"Yeah," you whispered. "Promise."

Perhaps three months ago his words would have hurt; but there was no wound anymore, only scars, and his gentle fingers ghosting over them.

Your soft reply smoothed out the frantic, worried fabrics of his soul, the image of you lying there, in his room, glowing; surrounded by his scent and his sheets, so domestic. It was everything he ever needed. His sacred place.

He sighed, contented, pressing the next kiss onto your forehead.

"Good. Mm, then rest. Just stay here and look pretty, my love. I'll collect your ransom and be right back."

He brushed his knuckles along your flushed cheek, dark, hooded eyes boring into yours.

"Can I have another kiss for good luck?"

A pleased hum left him when you leaned in, lips pouty and swollen, ready to be kissed more and more, and how could he ever not want to do just that?

He held your face with an inked hand, and a black mask in the other.

Heaven was a pricey thing to uphold; the church would know. And not that Jungkook didn't already have enough to spoil you, but all angels were painted in gold, weren't they?

"Night, baby," he murmured lovingly.

His voice never led you astray, lulling you to sleep, helping you land safely in the arms of the mellow abyss behind your eyelids. He kissed both.

"Gonna be back real soon."

You didn't get to hear that promise, but he didn't mind. In a few hours, he'll be holding you in his arms. All angels were shimmering gold, to match the golden gates; his angel deserved the same.

In the end, there was nothing wrong with a man of faith collecting donations for the purposes of worship. Right?

[heavenlyraindrops]

♱ Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter One ♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter One Warnings: Slight mention of blood, profanity, mild violence How to find the other chapters in my pinned post

♱Where the purest soul in Heaven falls for the Devil♱

[Chapter One]

♱♱♱

“What?” 

You stared at Adam incredulously, wings almost stuttering to a stop mid-air. He stared back, unfazed at your reaction as you backed away and up from him, mind reeling. You were both suspended in the air, held up by your moving wings, but you felt like you were going to plummet to the ground any second. 

The recently opened Pentagram in the sky flickered at the edges around the gaping hole that had allowed the angels to enter Hell. To be fair, you weren’t supposed to be there- you weren’t an exterminator, but Adam had managed to get you permission to join him, arming you with a spear and calling it protection. Plus, if you wanted to go, it wasn’t like the Seraphim would object. It wasn’t a secret, the soft spot they had for you- although, unlike Adam, you did your best to abstain from exploiting it for your every whim. 

“What’s the big deal?” He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t wanna marry me? I’m the First-“

“First Man, I know,” you frowned, voice strained, at his blatant arrogance. “But Hell in the middle of an extermination isn’t exactly the place to propose to someone, Adam.”

“I was gonna say First Dick,” he grumbled. “Why the fuck you gotta be so complicated? Just fuckin’ say yes. I’m the First Di- Man, you’re the purest soul in Heaven, it only makes sense-“

You balled your fists, forcing yourself to keep a level head. “Have you considered that maybe I don’t want to marry you?”

Adam almost seem to freeze in mid-air. His still beating wings gave it away. “Why the fuck not?” He snarled. You flinched, and his face softened slightly. 

“You know I won’t stop trying until you say yes,” he declared. You rolled your eyes, raising up and away into the red sky.

“Just stop trying,” you snapped, and with a powerful beat of your wings you set off into the distance, ignoring Adam’s calls, voice chasing after you, commanding you to stay back.

Your eyes streamed against the wind. You knew Adam liked you, he hadn’t exactly been quiet about it, but there was a lot of stuff he wasn’t quiet about- a lot of stuff which, ultimately, was a turn off for you. You were definitely never going to marry him, and the sheer audacity for him to propose to you so casually, in the middle of Hell, just pissed you off in a way you couldn’t describe. 

You sighed. There was no point dwelling on it now. A large silhouette in the distance began to form more clearly. A large- manor? Palace? You glanced down at the streets swooping away beneath you. They were deserted. 

Weird. You mentally shrugged. People probably just didn’t want to get caught out in the middle of an extermi-

BANG!

Angelic bullets? Your mind barely registered the thought. 

A searing pain stabbed into your wing, which went stiff. For a horrifying moment you were suspended in mid-air, your wings flapping frantically as you tried to stay up, a terrified cloud of feathers and limbs, before another BANG! tore through your remaining functional wing.

You screamed as you flapped your wings a few more pathetic times, careening straight towards the manor-palace. You crashed through a window, taking the curtains down with you, the glass showering you unceremoniously, cutting into your skin as you lay sprawled across the floor in a cloud of feathers. Your spear clattered onto the floor next to you, your wing twitching painfully. 

You barely even managed to notice your own blood until you focused your vision. The light from the broken window filtered across your body, a slit cutting across the dark, shadowy room. Your gilded blood glinted in it, seeping into the carpet and the curtains which were buried beneath your weak form, staining the pure white of your splayed out wings. 

A single white feather drifted down from the air and landed on your arm. You coughed. Gold sputtered from your lips and trickled down the side of your mouth. 

Charming, you thought dryly.

The door of the room opened. You could just barely hear the creak above the blood pounding in your ears. You gulped, hearing footsteps get closer and closer to you- 

“Well well well. What do we have here?”

I’m royally screwed, you thought, closing your eyes and waiting for the killing blow.

Instead, gentle, gentle hands touched your face, turning it towards the light and scraping hair away from your eyes. You flinched at the touch, then relaxed as the voice whispered something. You couldn’t make it what it was saying, but it was soothing. And calm. Your breathing evened out. You just barely managed to lift your heavy eyelids. 

“Who are you?” Your mouth formed the words but your voice couldn’t get them past your throat without them coming out cracked and gravelly. The voice hushed you. You couldn’t make out the person's face. They were just a pale, blurry silhouette, leaning over your body. 

“Close your eyes,” the voice said. “You’re safe now.”

You obeyed.

♱♱♱

You jolted, feeling a presence next to you. The warmth radiated off of them. You could sense their being there. 

It was a struggle to unglue each eye open, and when you did, everything was blurry- it took you a few seconds to even realize you were in a bed. The soft covers rustled against your cheek, until you sat up.  You blinked slowly and looked around, taking in your surroundings.

“Awake that quickly?”

You flinched, wings bursting out in alarm, unfurled over your head. The man sitting next to the bed you lay on raised an eyebrow, smirking. You gulped. “Who are you?”

“Never mind that.” He stood up, shaking down his rolled up sleeves. “How are your wings?”

You realized that they were still arched out from your back. You furled them back into your back, mortified. You also realized that they were painless. 

“They’re healed,” you said breathlessly. The man flashed a prideful grin, revealing his sharp teeth. You narrowed your eyes suspiciously.

“How?”

“Simple. I healed them.”

You frowned, pressing your back against the wall to get as far away from him as possible. He simply stood there, crossing his arms. You blinked, slowly. 

“Thank…you?”

“You’re welcome,” he said smugly. You tilted your head as he beckoned for you to stand up, which you did slowly. You glanced out the window. This one wasn’t shattered, and the curtains hung proudly. You were in a different room than the first. The red sky beyond glared at you tauntingly. 

“How long was I out?”

“Oh, not long. Don’t worry. The extermination’s still on.” He winked at you. “Your pretty self won’t be stuck here until the next one.” 

You remained silent, staring at him, begging to God that your blush wasn’t showing on your face. 

It must have been, because his grin only widened. 

“Why did you save me?”

“My own selfish desires, of course.” He flicked his hand at a pair of chairs. “Sit down.”

Not knowing what to say, you complied. He sat opposite you. You leaned forward slightly, scanning his face for a single expression that might betray what was going to come next. You found nothing. 

He sat back, completely relaxed, which unnerved you more than you could admit. The light hit off of his blond hair and pale skin that made him seem almost… angelic.  You knotted your fingers together in your lap, biting your lip and waiting for him to speak.

“So. An angel, huh? You don’t look like an exterminator. How’d you find yourself down here?” His voice seemed to darken a little with his next words. “Did you… fall?”

Your eyes widened in shock. “Of course I didn’t fall,” you spat. You weren’t usually hostile, but the anxiety of the situation was pressing down on you far too hard. “I got special permission to come down by the Seraphim.”

The sinner raised an amused eyebrow at your outburst.

“And who are you to ask me anything?” You continued, frazzled. “A mere sinner-“

“I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you.”

You clamped your lips shut at his tone. He smiled, satisfied, and continued. 

“So, the Seraphim. Why’d they let you down here? They’re not the type to bend rules like that.”

“How would you know?” You said. “I said I wanted to go, they let me.”

“They must have a soft spot for you, then.” His eyes narrowed. “Or, you’re important.”

“I’m nowhere near important,” you snapped, crossing your arms. He nodded slowly. You couldn’t tell if he believed you or not. 

For what seemed like another hour he continued to shoot questions at you, mostly about Heaven, and you hesitantly answered. You didn’t know why you stuck around as long as you did- refusing to acknowledge to yourself the sort of charm that beheld, the fact that he was so undeniably attractive, which you would never admit to yourself. 

You relaxed when you heard him speak next: “You can go now. The Pentagram will close soon.” Pause. “Can you fly?

You stood up, dusting yourself off, and nodded before turning towards the window, which had magically pushed itself open. 

“Wait,” he called out. You turned. “You should take this.” Your angelic spear materialised in front of you, dropping down into your hands. 

You clambered out the window and jumped off, before hovering before it and turning to face him. The beat of your wings made the curtains sway. He leaned out, staring at you expectantly, as if he could sense what you were going to say.

“Now will you tell me your name?” You asked irritably. He smirked again, showing his sharp teeth this time. Your heart thumped in your chest.

“‘Course I can, angel. The name’s Lucifer. Lucifer Morningstar.” His grin widened as he winked again. “Pleasure to meet you.”

The words knocked the breath out of you almost immediately. For a minute you froze, standing there like a deer in headlights before turning and swooping away into the red sky, towards the closing Pentagram. 

The name’s Lucifer. Lucifer Morningstar. The words echoed around your head relentlessly. 

“Fuck.”

♱♱♱

A/N: Stay Tuned!

Taglist: @ica1, @boredlime, @tremendoushearttaco, @sweetadonisbutbetter

[arminsumi]

🕯️♱🕯️~ 𝔦'𝔩𝔩 𝔟𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔰𝔞𝔠𝔯𝔦𝔣𝔦𝔠𝔦𝔞𝔩 𝔳𝔦𝔯𝔤𝔦𝔫

GETO すぐる x fem reader

he's a cult leader. you're a virgin. and he's gotta "sacrifice" you. but not for the purpose of purifying something else... no, it's to purify you. 'cause you're a "filthy monkey", whatever that means...?

1.6k = 5 - 10 min. read

note : wellwellwell! first kinda spooky post for october. i hope i delivered. this is the very anticipated cult leader geto suguru post... but HAH!! there's actually... more in the drafts that i'm working on 😈💗 oh also... requests are open!! lmk if you want more cult leader geto or anything else :)

content : smut, cult leader Geto Suguru, virginity loss, collegeboy Sugu (but yk... he's secretly a cult leader lol)

warnings : 🔞 minors do not read/interact, cult themes, dripping hot wax on body (brief), sex on an altar, light corruption kink, some praise, slightly toxic dynamic, mean!Geto + soft!geto, dom!Geto, sub!reader, virginity loss, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, dirty talk, names (good girl, baby, angel), begging, playing with your breasts, +++

🎃 ~ more from jay : geto content // jjk content // library

hot wax drips onto your bare skin. there's symmetrically aligned candles dimly lighting around you in a circle, it's oddly symbolic of how geto suguru has entrapped you in this moment.

he'd laid you down on a stone-cold altar, right underneath a glowering statue, with an odd gentleness and carefulness; as if he were a lover laying his woman in bed.

how the hell did you get into this situation? being some cult leader's sacrificial virgin? that's some crazy shit. real fucked up shit. even more so because you consented to it.

he said;

"you know, baby, i could love you if you were ...pure.."

with a sensual, sadistic smile, mind you.

so you replied;

"i'll be your sacrificial virgin, so purify me."

with dumb, lovesick hearts in your eyes and a humorous tone of voice.

he loved how you could joke like that. maybe it was because you didn't wholly believe he was a cult leader.

after all, you'd known him as the heart throb mystery boy at college for a long time now. he used to eye you out, a beady eye staring at you with a bang curtaining it, with a fascination he thought was strange for him to have.

you were a monkey, after all, and why should you catch his eye? as if you were deserving of his love... you were filthy.

and he said;

"alright, i'll purify you."

with a deep voice. deep. very deep. it chilled you, with just how damn deep and erotic those words were. they teased a hidden meaning.

what meaning?

he just wanted to fuck your brains out. that was what he meant.

the ritual makes your stomach knotty. he smirks down at you.

he comments;

"you're shaking."

you let out a raspy moan as his cold hands trace up your forearm.

"you always secretly knew, didn't you?"

he looks you in the eyes, hand continuing to slowly caress your body.

you squeaked when he suddenly squeezed your breast. his eyes became lidded with infatuation at the sight and sensation of your plush flesh molding under his big manly hands

did he mean... that he knows you always knew he was a cult leader? no. damn his enigmatic words, you thought.

he continued;

"... you always knew that i wanted to touch you like this... and have your body all to myself. right?"

he's watching your body tense up with your growing arousal. it delights him. he's hovering over your body — then he's disrobing himself and letting his kimono sloppily slip off his shoulders not bothering to fully take it off. he wants you to see just a teasing strip of his toned physique, a glimpse of his muscular torso, a hint of his subtly curving dipping abs and...

he smirks;

"it's rude to stare."

"...sorry, suguru."

he clutches your jaw.

"what did you call me?"

he asks with a sweet tone that sends shivers down your spine.

"...i-i said i'm sorry, suguru."

"using my first name as if we're in college, huh? that won't do. that won't do at all, sweet baby. when we're in this sacred place of mine, you will refer to me as geto."

you're staying still, and that pleases him. but he knows when he slips his cock inside you, then you'll start squirming.

his hands squeeze and knead your breasts harder, rougher, he pinches and plays with your nipples and then lowers his lips on them to suckle and nip his teeth at the sensitive nub. he smirks when he feels your goosebumps on his warm lips.

one hand slides down your body, grazing your shivering skin so lightly that it makes you shiver even worse, and he dips a finger into your pussy's entrance.

he smirks and lowers his face to yours, noses touching, abyssal black eyes searing you.

he taunts;

"you're so wet... you really are a virgin, huh? i'll change that. now... angel baby... look at me... yes, look at me like that, cute little lamb expression i like that. let me hear you give me permission again. let me hear it."

and it's besides the obvious reason he's asking you for consent; he just wants to hear it from you. hear your voice say it. hear that permission come out of your mouth and no one else's. not ever.

"t-touch me, please, geto."

"mmm...?"

he hums to encourage you to say more. so you scramble your brain.

"...pleasure me, geto."

that makes his heart beat harder, makes his blood rush around his body at higher pressure.

"that's what i wanted to hear..."

he says before sliding his fingers past your entrance.

your ring of muscle contracts around him tight, but there's hardly resistance to his fingers entering you because you're dripping with juices.

he teases;

"so fucking wet... but i bet you'll still have difficulty taking my cock, huh? you're just a pretty tight little virgin, after all."

he's murmuring, lips hovering over your lips and just daring to kiss you. but he refrains. because you're still impure.

his fingers pump quick, hard. they hit your sweet spots, deep spots, gummy spots. he's mapping out your body with his hand, absorbing its reactions to his touch. he smiles when you moan for the first time. it sounds so purely erotic.

"enjoying this? need me to go faster, don't you? oh... beg for it."

"please! pleasepleaseplease! g-go faster..."

"not good enough. come on, you're not that innocent, are you?" "i-i don't know what you want me to say..."

he hums in mock contemplation. then he orders;

"tell me you want me to fucking ruin you... corrupt you... can you be that dirty for me?"

"i-i-i — ahhh~ i want you to ruin me, geto. c-corrupt me."

you repeat back for him.

he can feel his pulse in his dick at your pathetic dirty talk.

"you want my cock, don't you? say it."

"i want your cock, geto!"

"yeah? you want me to fuck you good, right here on a fucking altar? say it, say it. be a slutty little virgin for me."

"i-i want you to fuck me right here, geto!"

he's fingering faster and faster each time you obediently speak back, the base of his palm rubs up against your clit and his big hand engulfs your tiny pussy.

"now that's a good fuckin' girl... obedient, just how i like."

he pulls his fingers out with a languid drag, making sure you miss the friction when it's gone. he looks at how his fingers are glistening with your juices as he brings them to his lips. and he begins sucking your slick right off his fingers, because he wants to. it's dirty. you're dirty. but his care slips for a second.

he takes himself so seriously, fulfilling the cult leader role to his best ability, but it's funny how when he sinks his cock inside you he becomes a typical sex-thirsted college boy for a moment. he groans. loses his composition. throws his head back, rolls it to the side. he feels your pussy choking his dick.

"fuck that's... good. don't squirm, baby, don't squirm... does it hurt?"

"a little bit..."

you whimper cutely, innocent eyes batting at him.

"i'm sorry... i'm a little big. don't worry. it'll feel better soon... just trust me. hold my hand. and trust me."

so you hold his hand — or more like he pins your hand in a romantic clutch. nasty squelching sounds come from the place you two connect, and a pungent scent of yours and his arousal wafts up. he inhales deeply.

you moan. and he speaks again.

"oh, there we go... now it feels good, doesn't it?"

you nod and close your thighs around him tightly.

"that's a good girl... just give into pleasure... let me purify you. isn't that what you want?"

you nod again, moaning.

"my girl's so good for me... you really are different, aren't you? i could tell ever since we first met... i'm so glad — you — ahhh fuck — you're letting me purify you. now we can be together forever after this. you won't be all filthy like those other monkeys anymore. my cock's gonna purify that lil' pussy... don't worry."

you've never heard him use the term monkey before, and by now you're too blissed out on his dick to notice its usage. your head's so full, there's just pure electric pleasure running through your body as he pounds into you.

"gonna cum? that's okay. cum all you need. moan all you need. let it out."

he purposefully angles his cock so that it beats into a better sweet spot, and he relishes in your reaction.

"there... cum, cum for me just like that."

he rubs at your clit, helping you cum. watching your body shake and freak out makes him let out a low chuckle.

feeling your contractions and pulsations around his cock brings him closer.

"fuck... 'm gonna cum."

and that's his idea of "purifying" you; cumming inside your tiny pussy.

so he lets out a long, chesty groan and cums deep inside, there's a primal shift in his demeanor when he orgasms and it just makes you cum again.

"oh... that's it... hah, look at you... you're glowing. you did so good for me, angel."

his voice is so saccharine, his eyes sparkle with more affection for you.

"took it all like a goddess..."

he admires your body for a moment, observing the glistening sweat. his eyes trail down between your thighs, where his cock is nuzzled deep inside and his shaft is messy with his cream and your cream.

and he kisses you for the first time, because now you're "pure" enough to deserve his lips.

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[cameronsprincess]

drew with the cutie bangs looks like he talks you through it and gets off on praise, buzzcut drew looks like he’s disrespectful, and baby mullet drew is just a slut. the pornstache is a separate other thing and i’m calling human resources. thoughts?

UMMMM. yes yes and yes.

curtain bangs definitely gets off on praise and will talk you through it, but he’s also sooo mean. like.. that was his most unhinged season, i just don’t see him not being a dick in bed.

buzzcut daddy is SOOOOO disrespectful and dominant. i’m talking tosses you around, spits on you, chokes you, fucks you so ruthlessly it leaves you sore for days after. like, buzzcut rafe just knows how to work his shit.

mullet and slutstache drew… he’s a literal fucking pornstar. he knows how to use his dick, and he’s so fucking nasty, and gentle but rough. like a COMMON WHORE he is.

now i know you said the pornstache is a separate thing, but i think we can say pornstache drew is in there with mullet drew… idk they’re both slutty eras that i am here for.

you have my mind wandering, sweet nonnie🤤🥵

[divine-knight-hand]

The End of an Era

Regina George Masterlist || Full Masterlist || Read on AO3

Pairing: (Reneé Rapp's) Regina George x Female Reader

Summary: After the iconic Christmas dance fiasco, one of Regina's long-time admirers decides to make sure she's okay.

Content Warnings: Mentions of being a pervert, but fluffiness from there, brief mentions of weight change and dieting, a poetry reference, a bit of toxic behavior (and verbal degradation) but Regina is a queen and I'm wearing rose-colored glasses, nothing spicier than kissing, but their is some dubious consent (but the want is mutual!)

Notes: Christmas dance scene moment!!! I just recently saw the new Mean Girls and Regina George was all that was on my mind since. So, I quickly wrote this up. Enjoy!

Word Count: 1,624

Dividers by @anitalenia

I’m no better than a man… I thought as I ogled Regina while she danced onstage.

Most of the student body didn’t care for the plastics’ “Rockin’ Around the Pole” routine, but I made sure I had the best view of it every year. I already knew before this year’s performance that it would be a little different. I recognized the group’s newest member, Cady Heron, from homeroom. Regina quickly took an interest in her when she first transferred in, and she became the newest member of the plastics.

I couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. What did it feel like to have Regina look at you in fascination? What did it feel like to be taken under her wing? How many times did Cady hang out with her? How many times did Cady go to Regina’s house?

The clapping of the girls’ leather boots made me jump, and my eyes zeroed back in on Regina. No, I didn’t actually care for the performance itself, but from freshman year, when I first saw Regina in the same tight-fitting crop top, short skirt, long gloves, and thigh-high boots, I was awe-struck. Since then, I’d taken to watching her from afar, which was easy to do, since she always made her presence known when she entered a room. With each passing day, I grew more and more enamored with her.

I found myself instinctively leaning in once the girls set up one of the grandest moves in their performance. Karen took to the bottom as Gretchen guided Regina into a handstand on her knees from behind. I willed my eyes down to Regina’s face once she made it into position.

Though I spent the performance letting my eyes travel along her body–looking at her thighs in the space between her skirt and boots, her exposed sliver of midriff under her crop top, and watching the way her beach blonde waves fell to frame her gorgeous breasts–I would not be perverted enough to hone in on her crotch as her skirt flipped. My mind might already be in the gutter, but I’d still have a little class.

I’d noticed that her clothes seemed to be fitting her a little tighter than normal this year. There were rumors floating around that Regina was gaining weight, but I also heard that she was on some health kick with special weight loss bars, so that couldn’t have been possible. It had to have just been in my head.

Or so I thought.

Suddenly, Karen’s legs began to shake, and as Regina lost her balance, Gretchen lost her grip, sending the three of them tumbling to the ground in front of a surprised Cady. The audience let out a unanimous gasp as Regina hit the floor face-first. Oh, shit!

It didn’t take long for all the cameras to start flashing, and the look on Regina’s face told me she knew that her life as the untouchable leader of the plastics was quickly coming to a close.

I figured that famous poet who said the world doesn’t end “with a bang but a whimper” clearly didn’t consider the fact that a teenage girl’s world could get explosive in an instant, without a single warning. I’m sure they’d change their mind once they met Regina George.

The curtains began to close, but not before I saw Regina take to her feet and speed backstage. I felt terrible for her. Was she one of the meanest people in the school? Yes. But, I was also in love with her- I mean- a firm believer that nobody deserved that level of humiliation. Not even mean girls. So, out of a sense of heartache and longing to comfort her, I did what any normal and not creepy person would do. I jumped out of my seat and went after her.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

I couldn’t actually follow Regina backstage, since I wasn’t in the talent show, so I ducked into the bathroom closest to the auditorium. As soon as I opened the door, I saw her, and my heart leapt into my throat.

She slammed her fists down on the sink in front of her, letting out an angry growl.

I gently closed the door behind me, not wanting to alert her yet, but my shoe audibly squeaked against the floor, and Regina’s head snapped in my direction.

I gasped once I saw her. It was an instant, and she quickly turned away, but after she made mascara tears a school-wide trend, it was hard not to notice when they were on her face.

“Get out.” She spat, still facing the other way.

“I- I wanted to see if you were okay.” I stammered.

“I didn’t say to start spewing mushy shit,” She insisted in that same cold tone. “I said to get the hell out.” When I didn’t immediately move, she roared. “NOW!”

I reeled backwards in surprise when she got loud, feeling an instant sense of guilt. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep. I’ll go.” I turned to grab the door handle, but paused when I heard her sniffle again. “You know, I come to see your performance every year.”

“Yeah, everyone does, because I’m amazing.” I turned my head to see Regina impatiently drumming her fingers on the sink, gloves long abandoned. “What, did you think you were different?”

“No,” I admitted. “I know that nothing I do really sets me apart from anyone else in this hellhole.” She snorted at my remark, and I dared to slowly approach her. “So, yeah, I’m just like everyone else. I came to see your dance. I follow all the trends you set. I turn my head whenever you walk into a room. Hell, whenever you turn up, you’re all I can see.”

She snapped her head back to me, her face set in a stoic expression. “Are you mocking me right now?”

“No, no!” I stopped my advancements, waving my hands to emphasize. “I would never!” I moved my hands to my pockets, eyes drifting down to my shoes. “If anything, I was mocking myself. I’m just like any other nobody in North Shore. I honestly wouldn’t expect you to recognize me. Sorry for bothering you.” I bit my lip in shame, debating whether or not I should leave.

A beat of silence passed before I made up my mind to go, but before I had the chance, Regina spoke up. “You’re Y/N L/N.”

My jaw dropped.

“Ew.” Regina closed the gap between us, coaxing my mouth closed with a hand under my chin. “Don’t do that.”

“Sorry.” I muttered, heat creeping into my cheeks. She touched me! She actually touched me!

“I do know you.” Regina went on. “It’s a bit hard not to notice when someone’s practically stalking you.”

My cheeks burned with humiliation. “I… I…”

A faint smile stirred at her painted red lips. “Especially when they’re as cute as you are.”

What? “What?”

“Ugh, get your ears cleaned.” She rolled her eyes. “I said I think you’re cute. Do you honestly think I’d let you creep on me if you weren’t?”

I scratched the back of my neck. “Sorry about that…”

“Don’t be.” Regina moved my hand before wrapping her arms around my neck. “I liked your eyes on me.” She pressed her body against mine, and I hoped she couldn’t feel my heart fluttering. “Everyone watches me, of course, but you’re the only one I like watching me.”

“Regina…” I breathed.

“Oh. My. God.” Regina scoffed. “Stop being such a prude and wrap your arms around me. What are you, a nun?”

“S- sorry…” I muttered, moving my hands from their tense position at my sides to hold her. I felt electricity under my fingers once they made contact with the skin of her midriff.

“That’s… better.” Regina ran her tongue over her teeth, like a hungry shark eying its prey. “I don’t wanna kiss you without your hands on me.”

WHAT?! “Wha-” She cut me off by pulling me into the promised kiss.

She rolled her body against mine, and I sighed, my eyes fluttering shut as I let her tongue into my mouth. Her hands clawed against my back as she tried to pull me closer.

She pulled away, only to keep kissing my face. She kissed all over my cheeks before trailing her kisses along my neck to the collar of my shirt. I shivered as one of her hands pulled at my shirt, and I felt her lips against the sweet spot in my neck.

“Regina…” I breathlessly sighed. “I adore you…”

“I know~” I felt her mouth spread into a grin against my mouth.

Then, all too soon, she pulled away from me, fixing her hair as she looked me up and down.

“You came to ask me if I was okay, right?” She raised an eyebrow at me.

“Y- yeah,” I stuttered, still in shock from our kiss.

“Well, I’m better now~” She winked. “So, thanks for that.”

Before I could even formulate an idea on what I could possibly say next, she was out the bathroom door.

What just happened? I wondered just before my reflection caught my eye. I was covered in blotches of red lipstick. It was scattered on my cheeks, coloring my neck, and smudged across my lips.

I gingerly reached a hand up to admire myself. I was all marked up. I was Regina’s.

After tonight, we knew Regina might not have been queen of the plastics anymore, but I hoped that she left the room with the understanding that she would always be a queen to me. Her world didn’t end with a bang or a whimper. It ended with a kiss.

[sunsbleeding]

Finally the world feels warm. I am at home in my mind after a long time being the neighbour looking for flour, banging on the door, full of need and nothing else. But I’m ready. I’m learning how to plant beets and tomatoes and good intentions, I’m raising sheets of drywall, I’m picking out the curtains for the house I’m building in my body. I have good love, I have a sun that rises, I have my friends and our secret language, and words to explain that there is pain in me but I am not the same as it. My feet beat against the cracks in the sidewalk as my music swings through my headphones, the day is just beginning and I am out here eating the sun.