#assistant dee

[happy-speedy]

four days late, but it's still Waddle Wednesday at least!

[dennisboobs]

:) i certainly have no issue dressing in drag :)

^guy who has no issue dressing in drag btw

glenn said that dennis' drag name is victoria von hemen btw

(Source)

[kirborb]

teehee swap au!! feat king meta and the unofficial royal knight sir dedede

[angninjin]

April: It's pride month...

Assistant: so you want me to do aro/ace headcanons?

Assistant : And am i allowed to punch a homophobic?

[adriberry]

Woke up in a cold sweat and created a twisted wonderland OC based on Meg from Hercules whose sole purpose in life is the be a burden to Idia and their relationship can be summarized by the classic tumblr discourse thread stating “tag your gore/pomegranates asswipe” (Idia is the one asking for the TW and Dee, the Meg OC, is genuinely confused).

[nomaishuttle]

nurses stop being cunts challenge difficulty level fucking impossible apparently

[suhailafamily1]

🚨 URGENT APPEAL FROM GAZA 🚨

A Plea for Help from Gaza: A Family Seeking Safety

Trapped Family in Gaza Appeals for Help to Survive

We live in the midst of the ongoing hellish war in Gaza, trapped between walls of fear and despair.

My name is Suhaila, a mother of five children. We are fleeing death. Our home has been completely destroyed, and my husband, Shadi, has been badly injured in the war. We are now living on the street with no shelter, no tent, and no food.

Today, we have nothing to eat. We are starving.

The army has declared our area a danger zone and ordered everyone to evacuate. We had no choice but to flee with only the clothes on our backs.

We urgently need:

A sack of flour, which now costs $850

Milk for my baby

Medicine for my injured husband

A tent or any form of shelter, which costs around $1,000

We are in immediate danger, and every moment is a fight for survival.

Please, if you can help with $850, $1,000, or whatever you can, it could save our lives.

Your help is our only hope.

This campaign is verified on Gazavetters (49) by 90-ghost and J Mi3 @el-shab-hussein.

Please share and support. We are truly desperate.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

We urgently appeal for your moral and financial assistance to cover the necessary costs for escaping to a safe environment, where we can build a better future for our children and ensure our family's safety.

We are in desperate need of your support. Any donation, no matter how small, can help save our lives. Thank you for your attention and support during these harsh times.

Donation link

[felidthing]

once again remembering that ive used tags like "dinni's ocs" since i joined tumblr because that was a nickname i actually used at the time. when i was 12. and to this day i just still use dinni in my organizational tags despite it originating from my deadname and the fact that i havent used that nickname since like 2016. dinni lives on

[northboreas]

Highlights from TGWDLM: Reprised!'s kickoff livestream for those who couldn't make it this morning:

- The Langs Confirmed that TGWDLM Reprised will still be taking place in 2018, not in the present day

- We got interviews from the cast members who couldn't be there in person due to their show in London!

- Hachetfield Lore drop #1, Wilbur Cross originally had a scene in TGWDLM. He was in the hospital during Alice Woodward's birth & he spoke to Bill for some reason

- There once was Train Choreography in TGWDLM that got cut according to James Tolbert

- Nick and Lauren had a bit about him being too tired to direct this show and that's why she's director this time (let this man rest)

- Curt Mega was given a job on the livestream in front of like 4k viewers

- Hachetfield Lore Drop #2, Macnamara had a monologue that got cut out of both TGWDLM and Black Friday, this monologue is now considered a spoiler.

- There was a lot of talk about future projects, both Hachetfield and otherwise, and that's gonna be elaborated on in a future stream according to Matt Lang. (So basically NMT 3 is real /j)

- Matt Lang also talked about merch for this show, including a Yootooz doll & Hachetfield tarot cards!!!

- The cast might do tarot readings for each other on stream in the future

- Hachetfield Lore Drop #3, We got confirmation that Otho from Yellow Jacket was Pokotho trapped in a human body

- We got a special appearance from Nemo :)

- Nick talked more about being an understudy for Emma, he also shared some BTS stories from TGWDLM's run

- We might get Woman in TGWDLM Reprised

- Nick Lang said that Joey Ritcher will be playing Hot Chocolate boy AKA Peter Spankoffski in TGWDLM reprised

- Joey Richter also said to Nick Lang that "pete's gonna have to have a mustache though" (which is probably a joke about him playing ted too but like? lmao who knows)

- Nick Lang hinted at the possibility of more Hachetfield characters making appearances during La Dee Da Da Day in the revival, he specifically pointed out Max Jaegerman

- Everyone took turns saying what they were most excited about for TGWDLM's revival, most notably Matt Lang said he's excited to not have to do anything (real)

- James Tolbert said he's looking forward to changing up the choerography (!!!!!!)

- Matt Dahan said he's excited to play these songs again, he also mentioned he plans to sprinkle in motifs from other hachetfield musicals this time (!!!!!!)

- Hachetfield Lore Drop #4, Professor Hidgens has a monkey assistant named Henry 2 that the Langs have tried to sneak into many NMT stories

- We managed to raise 220k in 3 hours!!

[purrincesskittens]

@muffinlance I see your Zuko gets adopted by old sweepy and propose to you Zuko gets adopted by a random scholar at the Ba Sing Se University.

Look in Yuka's defense she has a lot of siblings, and Zuko at a quick glance could pass as her youngest brother. Yes, he should be at home still nowhere near Ba Sing Se, but her siblings end up in the strangest of places so she wouldn't put it past him to show up randomly. Doesn't help she already wears thick lens glasses, and her eyesight is just getting worse from all the reading in the dark she does. Also, she was deep in her research for the paper, and the kid she mistook as her brother was really useful at finding her just what she needed for her paper. He was also apparently an expert on Avatar research, able to spout off all kinds of facts and quotes where he got that research from. By the time she realizes this kid isn't her little brother, she's decided to adopt him anyway, and she will absolutely fight the Di Lee for him. He is her new research partner, and she'll list him as one of her sources if she has to. Then they can't take him as he is an integral part of the development of the culture of Ba Sing Se. Besides, the kid sucks at hiding the fact that he is a fire bender and needs someone to take him under their wing. Half her family are firebenders anyway. She may be small and mousy, but she can be mighty when it comes to her research. She is totally willing to throw hands with the Di Lee if it comes down to it.

Zuko isn't sure what to make of the small mousy scholar he accidentally stumbled upon while trying to find more research on the Avatar. Nor is he sure how he became her research assistant. All he knows is she started calling him Koji and talking to him like she knew him or rather knew this Koji and handing him scrolls to put away and requesting more works on the Avatar some he hadn't read before as Ba Sing Se was the one place he hadn't been able to break into until now. Then he starts spouting off his Avatar knowledge between what he knows of the current Avatar and what he read in old books and scrolls she just jots down what he said without ever once looking up at him. By the time she realizes he isn't this Koji person, she has apparently decided she is keeping him. She escorts him home or to the tea shop when she is done picking his brain for the day or treats him to good food and makes sure he gets enough to not only fill his belly but also to bring home to Uncle. When he gets fired from the tea shop for fighting Jet, she hires him permanently. She even argues that Jet is clearly delusional and needs help not to be carted off by the Culural Police. He is clearly scared so badly he can't see he is safe and that there is no war in Ba Sing Se. So Jet gets an involuntary stay in one of Ba Sing Se's finest mental hospitals with his own personal Joo Dee to look after him. It's around this time that Uncle realizes he may have to fight this young lady for custody of his nephew. At least he is staying out of trouble and expanding his intellectual knowledge.

[jo-speaks]

🍬 “i never noticed how beautiful filthy words could be.” for us, quinn girlies please

warnings: 18+ content, mdni. shower sex, breeding kink (it's quinn what did you expect), mature language, etc.

note: had to do something long and special for the best defenceman in the league :)

wc: 1306

Waiting in the hall in front of the locker room was usually the most mundane task of every game you attended. Just standing there, throat and body exhausted from cheering Quinn on the whole night. Usually, the other wives and girlfriends made the experience more tolerable, but tonight was a different story.

Even with less of the girls to keep you company, you were bouncing off the walls tonight. Quinn had broken yet another record tonight, your joy radiating off your body in the most obvious way. 

When Quinn stepped out into the halls, his eyes immediately found yours. He was convinced his pupils dilated into hearts once he saw your smile and obvious excitement. You met him halfway, unable to contain yourself as you wrapped your arms around him, causing him to set his bag down to lift you up to wrap your legs around his torso as well. 

“I’m so proud of you, Q.” You mumbled into his cheeks, placing a kiss on his damp skin.

Quinn chuckled, “Thank you, baby.”

“Out of the way, Huggy. Some of us need to drive to see the wife.” Conor joked, placing a playful smack on Quinn’s ass, causing him to jolt and step aside. 

Once he placed a quick kiss on your lips, he set you down with an arm lingering around your waist, not wanting you to go far. He said his goodbyes after everyone poured out of the locker room, walking the two of you to the parking garage. Quinn had rented a car for the duration of this trip, wanting to spend a few of the days in between with his parents and friends.

“313.” You said in astonishment as the two of you settled into the car.

“313.” He parroted, “Even got the puck to prove it.” 

Quinn handed you the game puck of his 313th assist, his physical proof of breaking the record. 

You held it in your hands delicately as if it could break if you held it too tightly. Quinn noticed your inspecting eyes when he glanced over to you, a laugh erupting from his chest.

“What? Never seen a puck before?” He teased, knowing very well you have. 

You scoffed, smacking his arm playfully as you turned to lean your head against the cool window. 

The rest of the car ride to his hotel was a quick one, filled with comfortable silence and the occasional quip of conversation. 

As you stepped into the room, Quinn dropped his bag by the door, surpassing you to face plant on the bed, groaning in satisfaction at the plush material.

You giggled, “Tired?”

He rolled over onto his back with a sigh, “You have no idea. These shifts feel like they’re getting longer each game.”

Taking a seat next to him, you reached a hand to thread into his hair, “That’s the price you pay for being so damn good at hockey.”

The two of you stayed there for a minute, Quinn’s eyes beginning to flutter shut. You noticed, deciding now was probably the best time to wash the day off of you. Quinn had already washed off the game at the arena, but the second he felt your touch disappear and the bathroom door open, he was wide awake again.

He hopped off the bed, hustling to the door before you could shut it. “Wait up.” He said as stepped inside with you.

You laughed at his eagerness, “Didn’t you already shower?”

“Not with you.”

You rolled your eyes as you turned the handle of the shower to your desired warmth, letting it heat up as you stripped yourself of your clothes.

Quinn quickly copied your actions, wanting to get under the water with you as fast as possible. He stepped inside first before tugging you with him, pulling you flush to his chest. His patience had worn out, immediately connecting your lips with his desperately.

You pulled away first, lips quickly finding his skin yet again as they trailed from his cheeks to his neck. You picked a spot, sucking and kissing on it until a deep mark began to bloom. You knew you’d have to cover it up for him later, but that was the least of your concerns at the moment. Right now, you were focused on the sounds escaping Quinn’s lips from just a simple kiss to his skin. 

“Baby.” He groaned, fingers entangling themselves in your hair, tugging you gently away from his neck. 

You sighed, “What do you want, Q. It’s all about you tonight.”

Now, it was his turn to blindside you. He lifted you up, your legs wrapping around him for the second time that night. “Let me fuck you full of me, hm? Give me a little prodigy to make just like me.” 

Your eyes widened at his words. You both had expressed your desire for children very early on in your relationship, yet you hadn’t expected it to come up three years in. Quinn smirked at your reaction, lining himself up to your entrance and slowly pushing himself in. 

“Fuck.” You gasped, “Fill me up, Quinn. Please.”

He let out a sigh as he bottomed out, pressing a swift kiss to your forehead, “Never noticed how beautiful filthy words could be.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as he pulled out halfway before pushing himself back in deeper than before. He kept this slow rhythm up, soft groans forming in his throat as he basked in the pleasure you gave him.

“Gonna make such a pretty mom. I can’t wait to see you all swelled up with our baby.” Quinn rambled, losing himself in the thought of you pregnant. 

You cried out at his words, the image filling your head as he sped up, hitting that soft spot inside of you that made you dig your nails into his back as you pulled him closer to you. 

“Make it happen, Quinn. Make it stick.” You whispered, unable to find your full voice as your orgasm crept up on you.

He groaned at your words, unknowingly thrusting his hips faster into you, so desperate to make his fantasy a reality. Bringing up his hand to rub slow circles on your clit, the contrast in speed caused you to snap, moaning out his name along with a stream of words you couldn’t make out in your state of bliss. 

The feeling of you throbbing around him caused Quinn to follow suit, filling you up just as he claimed he would. The feeling of his cum leaking out of you made you whine, the feeling overwhelming you in a good way. 

You both remained still, the water from the showerhead still pouring steadily onto your bodies. You had expected him to pull out of you, but he didn’t. You blinked your eyes open to find the reason for Quinn’s dormant state, not knowing why he was so still. 

To your surprise, Quinn had a locked gaze on what was going on between the two of you. Following his line of sight, you looked down to see Quinn’s cock resting inside of you, a ring of white wrapping the connection of your bodies as some of it dripped down into the floor. 

He was mesmerized at the sight, yes, but that wasn’t the reason he was still. 

“Quinn?” You rasped, gaining his attention but not his eyes. 

He slowly pushed himself deeper into you unexpectedly, eliciting a whine from your throat as your mouth gaped open. 

“Just wanna make sure it sticks.” He mumbled, looking up at you with a mix of love and desire in his eyes. 

You nodded, closing your eyes as you appreciated the closeness. You expected him to stay like this for a few moments more. What you hadn’t expected was for him to start thrusting in and out of you yet again. 

[mattsundaes]

hiiiii dee !! omg i was so excited to see you have a drabble event. oliver w wake him up, if you please?

— ave

oliver aiku x reader — 18+, morning after

Can a pro footballer not afford fucking blinds?

It’s the first thought that stretches awake in the shallow sea of your sleep-addled brain as you find yourself bathed in what’s quite frankly an obnoxious amount of early morning sunlight. 

And this is what naturally leads into your second thought, one that clicks into place with unnerving clarity mere moments before your gaze falls on the sight of a football jersey hanging over the back of a chair. 

You let out a quiet, resigned exhale before carefully turning your head just enough to see the culmination of last night’s collective assortment of bad decisions: a shirtless Oliver Aiku, fast asleep and snoring softly on the pillow beside your own.

He’s facing away from you, dark grey sheets pooled at his waist, and you have to mentally slap yourself for the way you find yourself suddenly distracted by the smooth, wide, muscled planes of his back.

You’re only wasting time letting your traitorous eyes sweep over his sleeping form, tracing a map along the source of each tender, pliant, well-fucked ache that lingers across your body. 

You really need to leave—

But the sheets shift with you as you go to extricate yourself from the tangle of them, and the mattress groans in protest as Oliver rolls over and slings a heavy arm over your hip. And it’s infuriating, the magnetic pull of his body heat as he curls around you. 

“Are you sneaking out?” he murmurs in a sleep-rough voice against the nape of your neck.

You try not to shiver at the sensation.

“Oliver,” you sigh. The exasperated way you say his name is answer enough. 

His hand slips up beneath the shirt you’re wearing, his shirt, and he slowly strokes your hip, thumb catching against your underwear.

“I drove you here,” he reminds you, and each word feels like a kiss.

“I can get a Lyft home,” you reply mildly. 

Oliver huffs in amusement before he rolls you over onto your back, and you resolutely stare at the ceiling as he rests his chin in the dip of your collarbone. The scruff of his beard is scratchy against your skin, and you’re unreasonably annoyed by how much you don’t hate the feeling of it. 

You swear you feel him smiling, even if you’re pointedly not looking at him. 

“Let me make you breakfast, and then I’ll drive you back to your apartment. And we can both pretend you snuck out and left me high and dry without saying anything, if that’s what you really want.”

You sigh, turning to look at him and hating the way your heart fumbles around within the tight confines of your chest cavity when your eyes meet his. 

He grins.

Twenty minutes later, you come hard seated atop the cool marble countertop in his kitchen with Oliver's face buried between your spread thighs, your fingers tangled in his messy hair, and the scent of nearly-burnt bacon wafting out of the frying pan.

He cajoles you into a shower after, and it’s a lost cause trying to muffle the desperate, needy moans that echo off of the bathroom walls when he fucks you deep and slow up against the tiles under a hot spray of water.

And even if he keeps his promise not to walk you to your door, he still hooks a finger in the back pocket of your jeans and tugs you back down into the passenger seat when you go to get out of his car, his mouth catching yours in a soft, tender kiss.

–

Later, with a clipboard in your hands and an ID tag hanging from the bottom of your track jacket that reads ‘ASSISTANT MANAGER - UBERS’, it’s all you can do not to deck Oliver in the head with the former when he has the gall to blow you a goddamn kiss as he jogs out onto the pitch.

[sayruq]

Here are some fundraisers you could support:

Mohamed Hamad

Nora Maliha

Bilal Salah

Tahani Shorbajee

Muhannad Shaheen

Youssef Balousha

Mahmoud Abu Hamam

Wafaa

Momen Alostaz

Mohammed Ayesh

Photojournalist Muhammad Al-Thalateeni

Boost. Donate if you can

[startheskelaton]

Do you have a timelime for your sparkplug au?

Yes and It's LONG. This isn't even all of it but it's what I have written out at least

Timeline: important plot points 

Pre war

Orion pax and D-16 are born 

Both experience the loss of parental guardian 

D-16 is taken to the pit 

Orion pax breaks into the pit, he and Dee start the foundations of the Decepticon cause 

Revolution starts to take shape on Cybertron 

Orion is killed in an attempt to stop D from falling down the slippery slope of a rage filled warmonger 

Orion is brought back as Optimus prime 

OG Ultra Magnus makes him a general in the Autobot ranks 

During war 

War goes on for like…. Long ass time

Autobots land on earth 

Main decepticons fallow suit and step up shop due to amount of resources

Governments make deals with different factions in place of protection and access to weapon technology

Eventually Megatron has a “oh fuck” moment when he invades an illegal mining operation in central Africa. It puts into perspective how far he has fallen, seeing his commanders make deals with those who profited off the mines, just like those in power back on cybertron. 

Midlife crisis, Megatron leaves the Decepticon cause, he takes Soundwave with him. Declares he will do whatever he needs in order to free those enslaved on this planet

Megatron joins the Autobots, this cases Prowl to leave and switch sides 

Battles pick up heat as both sides are desperate 

Millionaires and those in places of high power use Cybertronian technology to flee earth and live in space as earth is being destroyed

Starscream kills Optimus Prime in an attempt to kill Megatron. Both sides retreat as a result 

Optimus splits the matrix and gives it to Hotrod and bumblebee, 

Rodimus prime and Vespa Prime are born 

Optimus Prime’s spark is put in a reformation chamber with parts of Megatron in an attempt to bring him back 

Treaties are made and the decepticons take Cybertron as the Autobots stay on earth 

Post war 

Decepticons start rebuilding Cybertroinian society 

Shockwave finishes creating a replacement for Soundwave

Soundblaster is born 

The first sparkling born on Cybertron in millenia emerges

Nightflyer is born 

Due to the splitting of the matrix of leadership, dormant energon on earth awakens and allows for new sparklings to emerge 

The attempt the revive Optimus prime’s spark fails 

Sparkplug is born 

A new era 

Earth 

The Autobots have made it their mission to help reform the planet and help the humans rebuild 

Rodimus prime leaves earth in a hope to find some kind of explanation for why he feels like everything is in the shitter 

Subsections of colonies start to pop up, some keep to themselves, others work directly with the autobots, some hate transformers entirely 

Railroads are made more efficient in order to transport supplies across countries 

Earth starts to heal with the help of the matrix, forests grow and temperatures fall to a normal level 

Major cities act as sanctuaries for the human population, help from other alien races arrives as well, helping earth to become a space traveling hub 

Cybertron 

The Decepticons no longer go by that name, no longer wanting to be associated with the past. They go by Workers of Prime 

Shockwave has put together a complicated and purposeful chain of command and leadership that he sits at the top of. However Starscream is the “king” of Cybertron, while being a puppet 

Prowl takes care of enforcing laws and regulations to the planet. Along with trying to unite the cities with one another 

Cybertron now has a entertainment industry, focused on promoting good morals to the population along with keeping bots distracted 

Cybertron only communicate with it’s colony planets, trying to form a stronger relationship between all transformers 

“Peace times” (start of the story) 

Sparkplug is currently working as the assistant of Ratchet under the blessing of Megatron and Elita one 

Sparkplug trains in her free time to be a scout and will sneak off every once and a while to play basement concerts 

On Cybertron, Nightflyer is top of his class while training to be a high guard soldier. He is chosen by Shockwave to go on a mission to earth and infiltrate the Autobots

Cybertron is in desperate need of resources 

Nightflyer lands on earth and pretends to be a Decepticon defector, Sparkplug is wary of him 

Nightflyer manages to become an Autobot and meets Sparkplug during the scout tryouts 

Reluctantly Sparkplug is passed but gets put on the Energon transportation and quality control team, she’s fine with this as she just wanted to see the world 

Nightflyer gets put on a mission team, meeting Landlot, Defender and other bots his age. 

During this time we get our first mentions of a cult ran by a former Decepticon that’s turning humans into purple energon

Both Spark and Night explore earth and meet new and old bots.

Example: Sparkplug gets to know earth born transformers, Nightflyer gets to meet bots like Skyfire 

Back at the base, Sparkplug gets annoyed with how much fanfare Nightflyer is getting, while she still gets treated like a sparkling 

She breaks Night’s social mask and gets to know the real him. A romance between the two starts to form 

Shockwave informs Nightflyer that they’re sending a team to take over the main Autobot base 

Shockwave employs the DJD to help in the Autobot attack 

Return to war 

Sparkplug confesses to Nightflyer, Nightflyer returns the feeling as he does like her.

Right before the invasion he tries to convince her that living on Cybertron wouldn’t be so bad. Sparkplug refutes that she likes Earth and that Cybertron would probably hate her.

The DJD and a group of seakers make their way to Earth and start fucking shit up

Big dramatic reveal to the characters that Nightflyer was a spy all along and is Starscream’s ward

Things are going in the bad guy’s favor until Tarn realizes Sparkplug is part Megatron.

 He orders his men to capture her and kill everyone else, as they have a new leader of the Decepticon cause 

The battle becomes even more messy as sides are switched and the Autobots and seekers are now fighting to survive

While attempting to help Megatron fight off Tarn, Sparkplug is grabbed by Soundblaster, who hopes to bring her back to Shockwave in order to get in his favor. 

Space distortion happens when Skywarp tries to help get Soundblaster out of there and accidentally sends him and Sparkplug halfway across the universe. 

This cases the DJD to leave as they are now looking for Sparkplug, and the seekers(after getting beaten by the DJD) are taken prisoner for now 

Depression but in space 

 Sparkplug and Soundblaster are in the middle of nowhere on a deserted planet. After trying to restrain one another, they realize they need to help each other if they wanna survive this mess

Back on earth, Rodimus comes back from space due to getting a SOS message, he is yelled at by his family

Acidstorm, Slipstream and Airachnid are absolutely furious about being stuck on earth for the time being. Nightflyer is currently being used as a verbal punching bag for the Autobots 

Back in Space, Sparkplug and Soundblaster start to develop a chemistry as they learn more about each other.

Rodiums takes it upon himself to get Sparkplug back as a way to make up for leaving everyone years ago. This is a big reference to “the lost light”, characters like megatron, rodimus, swerve and others join, along with some OC’s like Nanabah (native american sharpshooter) who forms a friendship with Preceptor, and Lobo (the lowrider transformer born on earth) 

Rodimus takes nightflyer under his wing in an attempt to reform him  

In space, Spark and Soundblaster start to feel romantic feelings for one another. However this is interrupted by them getting found by the DJD.

Soundwave takes it upon himself to split off from Rodimus group as he might be able to locate her better through his mind powers (I don’t know, it's all space magic man)

Sparkplug properly meets Tarn and is quickly given a new frame and alt mode against her will. 

Soundwave finds the DJD with Spark on it and sneaks on, However he is caught, and even if he fights well, he can’t fight off all of them.

Tarn forces Sparkplug to finally give into her anger when he kills Soundwave in front of her and lets her kill him. 

Spark takes on the name “Megatron” and is then forced to eat Tarn’s spark in an act of dominance. She is now the leader of the DJD 

There will be more to come!!! this is not all of it

Part two

[misahyochaeng]

FETISH

tw: dom!momo, sub!reader, photography-tutor!momo, “intern”!reader, enemies/rivals to friends to lovers(?), slight angst & fluff, fingering, pussy eating, momo’s slightly older, she also likes girls who beg 😊 (me ngl), slight humiliation, begging, a bit of degradation and impact play.

You absentmindedly fold the blank pages of your sticky notes into tiny origami figures, your fingers working on autopilot while the professor drones on about the rule of thirds. You've memorized every angle and nuance—today’s lesson is nothing new to you.

Suddenly, a tiny paper ball lands squarely on your table. You pause, and without even looking up, you know exactly who’s responsible. Momo, ever the nonchalant senior, sits a few rows ahead with a self-assured smirk. She points at the front of the class, silently commanding your attention.

You roll your eyes and return to your folding, frustration simmering beneath the surface. Leaning against your shoulder, Chaeyoung doodles absentmindedly on the edge of your paper.

“Ugh, she’s so irritating,” you mutter, your tone a mix of exasperation and disbelief. “Every single class, she just has to make me her personal punching bag.”

Chaeyoung looks up with a gentle smile. “Maybe she’s just bored. You know how seniors can be—they think they’re above it all.”

You scoff. “Above it? More like she’s on a mission to drive me crazy.”

Before you can continue, another paper ball whizzes by and lands on your desk. You shoot a glare at Momo, who casually flips you off before returning to her cool demeanor.

“Momo, seriously?” you mumble under your breath, the irritation clear in your voice.

Chaeyoung whispers, “Honestly, I think it’s her way of saying hello… in her own twisted way.”

At that moment, the professor’s voice snaps through the murmur of the classroom, “Alright, everyone, listen up. Today you’ll be working on a group project based on the rule of thirds. I’ll be drawing names from the registration numbers.”

You lean toward Chaeyoung, whispering about your dinner plans—McDonald’s, of course—when the professor announces, “Numbers 13 and 3.”

Your stomach drops.

You already know your number is 13, but 3… isn’t Chaeyoung’s. You quickly flip through your folder, scanning the list of student numbers.

A tap on your shoulder makes you freeze.

You don’t even need to turn around. You’d recognize that perfume anywhere.

“For fuck’s sake…” you mutter under your breath.

“Hey, respect your seniors, assface,” Momo drawls before giving you a not-so-gentle shove forward.

Then, as if she wasn’t just tormenting you a second ago, she turns to Chaeyoung with a sweet smile. “Hey, Chaeyoung.”

“Hey…” Chaeyoung laughs nervously before standing up. She mouths good luck before abandoning you to your fate.

Momo settles into the chair next to you, stretching her arms behind her head like she doesn’t have a care in the world. You don’t need to look at her to know she’s smirking.

This is going to be hell.

You lean back in your chair, arms crossed, as Momo taps a pen against her notebook. She isn’t even looking at you, just scribbling something down like she’s already taken charge of the entire project before you’ve had a chance to speak.

“Alright,” she says, casually flipping a page. “Since I’m the oldest here—and obviously the one with more experience—I’ll handle the creative direction. You can be my assistant.”

You blink at her. “Assistant?”

She finally looks up, lips curling into a smirk. “Yeah. Like my little sidekick.”

You scoff. “I don’t remember signing up to be your intern.”

Momo hums, tapping her pen against her chin like she’s thinking it over. “You’re right. Interns at least get college credit.”

Your jaw drops. “Oh, you’re hilarious.”

“I try.” She shrugs, turning back to her notes. “Anyway, I already have a plan. Something bold, something striking—something that might actually get us an A.”

“Might?” you repeat, offended.

“Well.” She glances at you, her smirk deepening. “You do tend to drag things down, so no promises.”

You slap a hand over your chest dramatically. “Wow. Senior privilege has really gone to your head, huh?”

Momo chuckles but doesn’t deny it. Instead, she stretches her arms behind her head and sighs. “You’ll get used to it.” Then, without missing a beat, she adds, “Now, go fetch me a coffee.”

You stare at her, waiting for the punchline.

She stares back, completely serious.

“In the middle of class?” you ask.

She tilts her head slightly, as if pretending to weigh the logic of that. “Yeah. I think better when I have caffeine. And you work better when you do what I say. So, really, this benefits both of us.”

You let out a sharp laugh. “You cannot be fucking serious.”

Momo leans in slightly, resting her chin on her hand. “Then do something about it.”

Your glare meets her smirk, and for a few seconds, it’s a silent battle of wills.

You groan, digging into your bag for your wallet. “You’re the worst.”

“No, I’m the best.”

You shake your head as you push your chair back. “This is gonna be a long project.”

Behind you, Momo chuckles, clearly pleased with herself. “Oh, trust me, Y/N, you have no idea.”

The tiny campus coffee shop was buzzing with students, the scent of freshly brewed espresso and warm pastries hanging in the air. It was run by the school’s barista and baking club, which meant the prices were decent, and the coffee was actually good—not that you cared about any of that right now.

Because right now, you were stuck in a booth across from Momo, who was currently staring at the bill like it had personally offended her.

“I told you, you should’ve paid,” she muttered, crossing her arms.

You scoffed. “And I told you we were splitting it.”

Momo groaned dramatically, leaning back against the seat. “Why do I even have to pay? I didn’t even want to come here in the first place.”

“Oh my god, do you hear yourself?” You rolled your eyes, pushing half the bill toward her. “You dragged me out of class for this.”

She narrowed her eyes but eventually reached into her pocket and begrudgingly slapped a few bills onto the table. “This is daylight robbery.”

“It’s literally five bucks.”

“It’s absurd.”

You ignored her, pulling out your notes and flipping through them. Unlike Momo, who had come in with zero preparation, you had already crammed a whole bundle of organized ideas long before this project was even announced. You knew exactly what had to be done—it was simple, really.

Momo, of course, not admitting it, but you caught the flicker of surprise in her eyes as she skimmed over your notes. impressed, though her ego was way too huge to say it out loud.

“So, I was thinking we could go for a more dynamic composition,” you started, pointing to a section of your notes. “Maybe play with leading lines or forced perspective—”

Momo scoffed, flipping one of the pages like it was offensive. “You’re trying way too hard.”

Your eye twitched. “It’s called being prepared, Hirai.”

“It’s called overachieving, freshman.”

Your hands clenched into fists as you glared at her, while she casually sipped her coffee like she wasn’t getting on your last nerve.

“Look, you wanna do something boring, fine,” you said, exasperated. “But don’t come crying to me when the professor gives us a mid-grade because someone—” you jabbed a finger in her direction, “—didn’t want to actually put in effort.”

Momo smirked. “Please, like you’d ever let our grade drop. You’d rather die.”

“That’s—That’s not the point!”

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm. “Relax, freshman. I’ll throw in some of my genius ideas, and we’ll be fine.”

You huffed. “Stop calling me that. You don’t even have a plan, do you?”

“I have vibes.”

You smacked your forehead. “Jesus Christ.”

The discussion—or rather, the argument—only escalated from there. What started as a simple debate over concepts turned into full-blown shouting about color theory, lighting choices, and whether or not Momo even understood what the rule of thirds was.

“I literally just explained it to you!”

“I understood it! I just think it’s dumb!”

“You’re dumb!”

“Wow, real mature.”

“Why are you like this?!”

By the time the coffee shop’s owner came over and politely —but firmly—asked you both to leave, you were fuming, and Momo looked far too pleased with herself. She shoved you out the door first, laughing under her breath as you stomped out.

You pulled your hoodie over your head, practically vibrating with frustration. “I’ll text you,” you muttered, keeping your gaze on the ground. Because honestly? Seeing her in person was a pain.

Momo chuckled, hands in her pockets. “Can’t wait.”

Every interaction with Momo was like an active battlefield.

Even through text, it was an argument. You’d message her something simple—Hey, let’s meet up tomorrow to finalize the outline—and she’d somehow turn it into a whole debate.

"Tomorrow’s no good. Do it yourself."

"I’m not doing everything alone, Momo."

"You basically already are, what’s the difference?"

“Fuck you."

It was exhausting.

Between this project, your other assignments, and just trying to survive life in general, made your patience wear thin. And she wasn’t helping. Every time you tried to make progress, she either made some sarcastic remark, refused to cooperate, or sent you on a damn coffee run just to waste your time.

And today?

Today was your breaking point.

The rain poured heavily outside as students rushed past with umbrellas and jackets pulled over their heads. You didn’t care about any of that. You were standing under the awning near the campus library, fists clenched, soaked to the bone, trying to talk sense into her.

“Can you for once take this seriously?!” you shouted over the rain, your voice raw with frustration.

Momo, standing in front of you with her usual nonchalant expression, just sighed. “I am taking it seriously. You’re the one freaking out.”

Your hands shook. “Are you—do you even hear yourself?! This project is due in less than a week and you’ve done absolute bullshit!”

She smirked. “I gave input.”

“Arguing with me every second isn’t input, Momo!”

You could feel the lump in your throat growing, frustration swelling in your chest like a balloon ready to burst. The rain pelted against you both, drenching your clothes, but you didn’t care. You were so tired.

Momo, however, just stuffed her hands into her hoodie pockets, barely fazed. “You need to chill.”

That was it.

That was the final straw.

With a strangled yell, you shoved her—hard. Momo barely had time to react before she stumbled back, slipping slightly on the wet pavement. She landed on the ground with a dull thud, rain instantly soaking through her jeans, her hands catching her fall too late.

For a second, she just blinked up at you, stunned.

But you didn’t care. You were shaking, tears already streaming down your face as your emotions crashed over you like a tidal wave.

“You—you make my life a living hell,” you choked out, voice cracking. “I try to be cooperative, i try to listen—but every fucking second I spend trying to work with you, you make it worse.”

Momo just stared, lips slightly parted, but for once, she didn’t have a quick comeback.

With trembling hands, you reached into your bag and pulled out a thick stack of papers—a perfectly printed and organized document.

The project plan.

The exact layout, execution, and theme. Everything—even the parts Momo had specifically wanted.

And then, right in front of her, you crumpled it in your fists and threw it at her. The rain immediately soaked the pages, ink smearing, paper sagging as it landed against her chest.

Momo barely moved, still sitting in the puddle, as she slowly picked up the now-wet document. She tried to unfold the ruined pages, her fingers smearing the ink as she stared at the careful details, the way everything had been planned out—just the way she had stubbornly insisted.

A strange pang settled in her chest.

Why?

Momo had been feeling off all weekend.

No matter how many times she pulled up your contact, hovered over the text box, or even typed out a snarky insult, she always ended up deleting it. Too much? Not enough? She had no idea. And the fact that she even cared this much was messing with her head.

She didn’t hear from you at all. No texts, no passive-aggressive insults, no complaints. Not even a middle finger emoji.

By Monday, it was bothering her.

When she walked into class, her eyes immediately scanned the room, searching—There.

You were slumped at your desk, hoodie pulled over your head, face half-hidden by the fabric. A large coffee cup sat next to you, mostly untouched, condensation forming at the sides. You weren’t talking to anyone. You weren’t even on your phone.

For some reason, that sight made Momo hesitate. She wasn’t used to seeing you like this.

Slowly, she approached, standing awkwardly beside your desk before clearing her throat.

“Hey.”

You flinched slightly, like you hadn’t even noticed her standing there, before exhaling loudly. “God…” you muttered under your breath. “Not you.”

Momo forced a smirk, shoving her hands into her hoodie pockets. “Rude. I was so worried about you.”

You let out a weak scoff, still refusing to look at her.

She shifted on her feet, debating her next move before sighing. “Look, I… y'know, regret some things.”

That made you finally glance at her—just a little. “You? Regret?”

Momo rolled her eyes. “Okay, not in the way you’re thinking. But. I may have been an asshole.”

You raised an eyebrow. “May?“

“Fine,” she groaned, “I was an asshole.”

You nodded, satisfied, before looking away again.

A beat of silence.

Then, without thinking, Momo reached out and gently turned your face toward her, thumb resting just under your jaw.

She barely had time to process what she was doing before she saw you—really saw you. The eyebags peeking through your makeup, the slightly smudged mascara, the exhaustion written all over your face.

Her breath hitched. “Damn. You look rough.”

Your glare was immediate, and Momo quickly turned your head back down like she’d seen nothing. “I think it’s best if you just stay like that,” she muttered.

Your arm shot out, smacking her without hesitation. “Dickhead.”

Momo snorted, rubbing her arm. “Okay, okay, I deserved that.”

You flipped her off before taking a sip of your coffee, still sulking.

Momo exhaled, leaning against the desk. “Anyway… I actually came to say I’ll put in real work for the project.”

Your fingers twitched around your cup. “Hah.”

“I mean it.”

You gave her a side glance, still skeptical.

“I’m serious. We’ll work at my place later tonight. I’ll even buy dinner. Snacks too. My treat.”

You bit your lip, debating it, but Momo could tell she had you the second your shoulders relaxed slightly.

“…Fine,” you muttered, almost begrudgingly.

Momo grinned. “There’s that enthusiasm I love.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “This is gonna be hell.”

Momo patted your back, smirking. “Oh, absolutely.”

But for some reason, it didn’t feel as bad anymore.

—

When Momo opened her apartment door, she wasn’t expecting this.

You stood there, dressed casually — oversized hoodie, loose sweatpants, hair lazily tied back. No makeup, no carefully put-together outfit like you usually wore. Just… you.

Momo blinked. What the hell?

She’d always seen you as this organized, almost annoyingly put-together person. But seeing you like this — relaxed, comfortable, a little tired but still somehow… attractive?

What the fuck is wrong with you, Mo.. get a grip..

Momo bit her lip, scolding herself internally before stepping aside to let you in. “Took you long enough,” she muttered.

“You’re lucky I even showed up,” you shot back, toeing off your sneakers.

Momo rolled her eyes and led you to the living room, where her table was cluttered with notebooks, pens, and a half-empty bag of chips. “I already started setting things up,” she said, gesturing to the mess. “But I doubt your perfectionist ass will approve.”

You snorted, flopping onto the couch. “Oh, definitely not.”

For the next hour, you both actually worked — shocking as that was. The banter never stopped, though.

“Why are your notes written like you’re decrypting ancient text?” you muttered, squinting at her handwriting.

“Maybe if you weren’t illiterate, you’d understand,” Momo shot back, smirking.

“Yeah? Well, maybe if you weren’t lazy, I wouldn’t have to understand your part too.

“Oh my god, you’re so dramatic.”

Somehow, despite the endless back and forth, you managed to make progress. Eventually, Momo grabbed the snacks she’d promised, tossing a pack of chips at you.

“Here. Don’t say I never do anything for you,” she said, flopping down beside you.

You caught the bag, tearing it open before popping a chip in your mouth. “Wow,” you drawled. “Such a provider.”

Momo scoffed. “You’re welcome.”

She reached for her own bag, but midway through her snack, she noticed you distractedly flipping through your notes. Without really thinking, she grabbed a chip, held it up, and pressed it to your lips.

You froze.

“…What are you doing?”

“Feeding you,” Momo said like it was obvious.

“I have hands,” you muttered, snatching the chip from her fingers.

“Yeah, but you’re too busy pretending to be a genius.”

“Pretending?!”

“Don’t start crying.”

“I’ll kill you.”

“You’d miss me.”

Neither of you noticed how easy it had become — the teasing, the insults that felt more playful than venomous.

And it didn’t stop there.

For the next few days, it became a routine — meeting at her place, or sometimes on campus, even when there wasn’t anything to work on. Sometimes you’d pretend you *totally* had something important to do just so you had an excuse to hang out longer. And Momo? She didn’t mind.

Actually… she kind of liked it.

Too much.

She started noticing things — like how you scrunched your nose when you pouted, or the way you bit your pen cap when you were focused. And god, that *whiny voice* you used whenever she pushed a joke too far — it was so irritatingly cute, and it stuck in her head longer than she wanted to admit.

Momo swore to herself she wouldn’t catch feelings.

But here she was — completely hooked.

And she had no idea how to deal with it.

quieter, something fonder.

Neither of you spoke for a moment.

Realizing she’d been staring a little too long, Momo cleared her throat and grabbed a bag of snacks from the table, tossing it into your lap.

“Here,” she muttered. “Before you start crying.”

You huffed dramatically, tearing the bag open — but as you reached for a handful of chips, you couldn’t shake the feeling of her eyes still lingering on you.

The two of you worked quietly for the next half hour, your occasional sighs and scribbles filling the room. By the time you both finished, the weight of the project finally felt lighter — almost freeing.

“Well,” you exhaled, stretching your arms. “We should submit it now.”

Momo, still scrolling through her computer screen, scoffed. “Nope. We’ll send it tomorrow.”

“What? No, let’s just get it over with,” you insisted.

“It’s better to send it on time,” she argued.

“That’s so dumb. It’s done. Why wait?”

“Because what if something’s wrong? We can double-check it before—”

“Oh my god, Momo.” You groaned. “It’s fine. Just submit it.”

“It’s not fine, and you’re not always right,” she shot back.

“And you’re never right,” you snapped.

The tension built quickly — voices raising, your patience thinning again. For a second, it felt like things were spiraling into yet another full-blown argument.

But then Momo sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Fine,” she muttered. “I’ll send it.”

You blinked. “Wait, really?”

“Yes, really,” she grumbled, opening her email. “I’ll submit this dumb thing now, but you’re turning in the itinerary tomorrow.”

You crossed your arms. “Fine.”

Momo clicked the ‘Send’ button, but as she hovered over the file attachment, you caught a glimpse of her hesitation.

“You should double-check it first,” you muttered.

Momo’s eye twitched. “You just said it was fine.”

“Yeah, but what if you—”

“Oh my god, would you just—”

“Just check it again!” you barked.

“Shut up,” Momo huffed — and suddenly her hand clamped over your mouth.

You froze. Her palm was warm, fingers curling slightly near your jaw, thumb resting just below your cheek. She wasn’t holding you tightly — just enough to stop you from speaking.

It smelled... nice. Clean, faintly floral — her lotion maybe? Your thoughts scrambled for a second before you caught yourself.

What the hell is wrong with you? you scolded yourself.

Momo seemed to snap out of it too, pulling her hand away quickly as if she realized what she'd just done. Neither of you said anything as she finally hit ‘Send.’

“Done,” she muttered, leaning back in her chair with a heavy sigh. “Thank god that’s over.”

You couldn’t resist. “Aw, you’re gonna miss me, aren’t you?”

“In your dreams,” Momo snorted.

You grinned. “You wish I dreamed about you.”

“Oh, please.”

The room fell into an oddly comfortable silence. The tension from earlier felt... different now. Softer.

“Hey...” Momo spoke up after a moment, her voice quieter than usual. “Thanks.”

You frowned, turning your head. “For what?”

“For... putting up with me,” she muttered, her eyes flickering to her lap. “I know I’ve been... kind of a pain.”

You snorted. “Kind of?”

Momo chuckled under her breath. “Okay... a huge pain.” Her voice softened. “But... I mean it. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

You blinked, unsure how to respond. Was she... being nice?

“Okay... what do you want?” you asked suspiciously.

Momo shook her head. “Nothing, idiot,” she laughed lightly. “I’m serious. You’re... you’re really dedicated. And hardworking. I like that.”

The words lingered in the air. You swallowed hard, feeling a strange warmth crawl up your neck.

Momo’s gaze lingered on yours for a beat too long. She licked her lips nervously, her body shifting just a little closer.

Before you could say anything, she leaned in — and her lips pressed softly against yours.

The kiss was tender at first — soft, almost hesitant — but then something shifted. It deepened, her lips moving against yours with a hunger that caught you off guard. Like she'd been holding herself back for far too long, and now she couldn’t stop.

You knew you should’ve pulled away. Should’ve shoved her back and demanded what the hell she was thinking. But instead... you melted.

Her hand slid to your jaw, fingers curling against your skin as her tongue swiped along your bottom lip. It was fleeting — just a tease — before she suddenly pulled back, her eyes wide in panic.

“I’m... I’m so sorry,” Momo stammered, her voice breathless. “I shouldn’t— I didn’t mean— I don’t know why I—”

You didn’t let her finish.

Grabbing her by the collar of her shirt, you yanked her back in, crashing your lips against hers once more. This time, there was no hesitation — just heat. The way her fingers dug into your waist, how her breath hitched as you tangled your fingers in her hair... it made your head spin.

Neither of you seemed to care how messy it was, how desperate — how much you both knew you shouldn’t be doing this.

But in that moment, nothing else mattered.

Her lips crashed back onto yours, this time with more urgency—more need. Her hand cupped the side of your neck, thumb grazing your pulse as if she wanted to feel just how fast your heart was racing. You barely registered the way her body shifted until your back hit the couch cushions, her weight pressing down on you.

Momo hovered above you, her knee slipping between your legs, trapping you beneath her as she added a bit of pressure to your core. The warmth of her breath fanned across your lips as she pulled back just enough to look at you. Her face was flushed, her pupils dark and blown out.

“Your lips…” she panted softly, her voice low and breathless. “They taste so good.”

Before you could even think of how to respond, she leaned back in, her lips slotting perfectly against yours. Her fingers slid into your hair, tugging just enough to make your breath hitch. The way she moved — slow yet deliberate — had you spiraling.

You knew this was dangerous. That whatever this was, it could only complicate things.

But when her body pressed closer, her lips claiming yours like she couldn’t get enough… you didn’t fucking care.

Her hands began to messily tug the hem of your t-shirt, slipping under to run her large cold hands on your soft skin, tracing shapes across your stomach.

She planted open mouthed kisses at your neck, each one earning a whine out of you, “Fuck.. keep making those noises, Y/N.” She tested the waters and moved higher from under your shirt, fingertips inches away from the lower part of your breasts.

She moved down to your collarbone, sucking on the skin there, leaving marks you knew you both were going to regret later—it didn’t matter right now though.

“Momo.. take it off..” you stammered out, your voice a fragile whisper that made Momo’s heart race—she held back wanting to ruin you whole.

She finally removed your t-shirt, throwing it somewhere on the floor, she took in your bare body, looking at it with primal hunger, an urge to devour you whole.

She unhooked your bra in a swift motion, cursing under her breath at the sight of your breasts, how perfect, how soft they looked—she knew they would be even better in her hands—she cupped one of them, squeezing it slightly, you jolted forward and squeezed your eyes shut, she let out a tiny chuckle “So sensitive huh, baby?”

Momo continues to explore your chest, her hands roaming over the soft mounds. She leans down to capture one of your nipples in her mouth, swirling her tongue around the hardened peak. Her other hand kneads the other breast, enjoying the feeling of your perfect tits in her hands.

You moaned loudly at the feeling of her warm wet tongue, fingers automatically going to tangle into her blonde hair, soft curses slipping out of your lips as you slowly grinded your core on her thigh that was still positioned inbetween herlegs, Momo’s eyes practically rolled back once she heard my moans for the first time, that urge of hers to lose control slowly coming out. 

Momo's body reacts to your moans, her heart rate increasing and her breathing becoming heavier. She releases your nipple with a soft pop and looks up at you with heavy-lidded eyes. Her hands continue to squeeze and caress your chest, leaving red marks on your delicate skin. "Fuck..."

You whined in eagerness, pushing Momo’s head back into your chest—the tug was firm and desperate as your lip quivered in desperation, you wanted—you needed—her mouth.

“Needy girl..” she happily obliged your desperate tug, diving back onto your chest with enthusiasm. She alternates between your nipples, lavishing one with her tongue while pinching and teasing the other with her fingers. A grin spreads over her lips as she feels your pussy grinding urgently against her thigh.

Your lips shaped into a pout as you pressed deeper on her thigh, hands reaching up to grab Momo’s shoulders, nails digging into her skin through her shirt. “Fucks sake—please, momo.” you bit back, impatient and desperate. Momo smiled agaisnt your skin before nipping at it slightly, she pauses her teasing and looks up at you with a seductice glint in her eye. "Say please nicely, and maybe I'll give you what you want."

Fucking god.

She sucked and swirled her tongue hard and you snapped, “Oh fuck you—“ she cut you off my pressing deeper into your core, her tensed thigh pressing down on your desperate cunt, you threw your head back and moaned. “Such a dirty mouth, Y/N, do better.”

“Mmph—fuck off.” you spat out, though your body was reactive to every touch, every grope, every pull. Momo smirked, finding your stubbornness surprisingly arousing. She grinds her thigh harder against your pussy, making you yelp. "Are you always this difficult to fuck?" She asks in small pants, nipping at one of your breasts.

You gave in, a tiny whimper escaping your lips as you cried out in a shaky, soft voice, “Please, Momo..” her face softened into a satisfied grin, she has you right where she wants you. She begins increasing the pressure, rubbing agaisnt your clit with a smug look on her face “That’s better.”

“I need it..” your chest heaved as your nails dug deeper into the fabric of her shirt, rubbing against her thigh more frantically, “Yeah? What do you need?”, she tensed her thigh muscles, she knew you were soaked, your cunt warm on her thigh, she nipped at your breasts softly. Your mouth fell into an ‘O’ shape as she rolled your nipple inbetween her fingers, “Mmph—touch me, please..”

Momo gives in and finally slips her hand into your pants, cupping your dripping wet pussy, the warmth, the smell of musk, how wet it is—it’s driving her insane. "Is this what you need?" you frantically nodded as you bucked your hips forward into her hand, Momo’s eyes darkening with lust as she felt your wet cunt grind against her palm, she slowly slipped a single finger inside—letting you feel her length, she gasped at how easily her fingers entered “Gosh, Y/N.. you’re so fucking wet.”, she teased with a smirk as she pumped her single digit inside you.

You whined, “Stop teasing..”, every little pump just from her singular finger felt so good, lost in the moment, you closed your eyes and furrowed your brows out of frustration. "And if I don't?" Momo purred, her voice husky with desire. She spread your pussy lips with her fingers before adding a second digit. Hearing your little whines and moans was like a symphony to her ears. "What are you going to do about it?" she spat in mock pity.

Your voice cracked as you let out another moan as she hit all the right spots “Please!”, you sobbed out, you were sensitive, your face flushed all the way down to your neck—you grew impatient by the second, that cocky smirk on her face as she pleasured your pussy pissed—and aroused—you off even more.

Momo’s forearm and bicep flexed with every pump, licking her lips as she pressed down harder on your clit with her thumb, your pussy gripping her fingers for release, “You’re so fucking cute when you beg like this.” she watched as you threw your head back, tits bouncing slightly at every pump.

Gosh this was embarassing.

Not was she your senior, but she was the person you’d hate till the world ended—the one you’d swore you’d rather eat a thousand shard of glass before looking her way. Yet here she was, knuckles deep in your pussy making you feel good.

You moaned before speaking through gritted teeth “Mmph—so fucking embarassing.” you locked eyes with her before rolling them, eyebrows furrowing as she curled her fingers “Oh? but you’re loving every second of this aren’t you?”

“I told you to stop fucking teas—“ her hand came down and snapped on your thigh, the motion leaving a harsh red mark, you yelled at the pain, the stinging becoming somehow arousing, “Then stop talking back you whiny bitch.” she starts finger-fucking you rapidly, her hand a blur between your legs. She can feel your pussy starting to tighten around her fingers.

You whimpered in reply as you began grinding on her hand, puffy clit grinding agaisnt the palm of her hand—momo watched. The sound of your wet pussy squishing against her palm is driving her insane with desire. She leans in close, biting down on your earlobe. “You gonna cum, Y/N-ie?”

You nodded, lip quivering as you tried to speak up, but it felt impossible. Without a warning, she pulled out, a whine leaving your throat at the empty feeling, you locked eyes with Momo, who was smiling against your flushed and sweaty skin. She teases your nipples with her tongue, biting and sucking gently before moving lower. She can feel your body trembling with need, and it turns her on even more. “Momo?..” your voice shook again, almost like a cold tremble.

Momo hums against your skin, blowing cool air over your nipples before sucking them again. She loves having this effect on you, absolutely loves seeing you so desperate and needy. "What is it, sweetheart?" She murmurs, trailing kisses down to your navel.

“What are you?—Shit!!” you threw your head back as she latched onto your cunt, her warm tongue tasting your pussy for the first time, she lost control. As soon as Momo's lips touch your wet folds, she loses all it. She hooks your legs over her shoulders and buries her face between your thighs, licking and sucking furiously. She can feel you convulsing against her face, but she doesn't stop.

You beg and scream out her name, the people in the dorms next to you probably hearing the commotion, but you didn’t care—atleast in the moment—with shaky hands you latched onto Momo’s hair, tugging and pulling her head closer to your puffy cunt, the dorsal bump of her nose bridge rubbing against your clit.

Momo moans against your wet pussy as you pull her closer, the sounds of your screams spurring her on. Her tongue thrusts in and out of you rapidly, occasionally flicking up to circle your clit. The smell of your arousal fills her senses, making her drunk with desire. “You taste so fucking good.”

Your mouth fell open, eyes rolling back as you felt that familiar knot form in your stomach, “Fuck, fuck fuck—Momo i’m gonna cum.” She groaned against your pussy, her tongue working faster and harder. Feeling your body tensing up, your thighs clamping down on her head as you get closer to the edge. She doesn't let up, determined to make you cum all over her face.

“Shit.. Momo i’m—mmph..i’m cumming, baby—cumming!” your eyes rolled back as you jumped her face frantically, body convulsing and baco arching, coming undone on her tongue as your hands tugged her hair tighter, knuckles turning white. She flattens her tongue against your clit and holds it there, lapping at your juices as you cum hard against her mouth.

She helped you ride your high, sitting back on her heels, a dorkish-satisfied smile on her face as she looks at you. Her mouth is shiny with your juices, her bangs stuck to her forehead from the sweat and your arousal. “You’re so stupid,” you muttered with a suppressed smile as you pulled her in for a tiny peck she gladly reciprocated.

As she pulled back she nervously rambled as she tenderly brushed your sweat-drenched hair out of your face, her brows furrowed with concern. "Are you okay? Do you need anything? Water? A towel? Did I... go too—“ you pressed a kiss on her lips to shut her up. “I’m fine, just get me some clean clothes and let me rest, ‘kay?..” you croaked groggily as you caressed her cheek, and without any word, she ran off, ready to take care of you no matter the circumstance.

—

The morning had been... weird. Not bad — just off.

Momo barely said a word when you left her apartment, but that smug little smile never left her face. Every time you glanced at her, there it was — like she knew something you didn’t.

Walking into the lecture hall, you spotted Chaeyoung near the professor’s desk, watching her paper get torn apart with red ink.

Perfect.

You grinned and wiggled your brows. “So... you and Tzuyu, huh?” you teased as she glanced at her work partner who towered over her.

“Get lost,” Chaeyoung muttered, rolling her eyes — but she was smiling.

She turned to leave, but paused, her eyes flicking to your neck.

Her smile dropped. She stepped back, staring harder.

“Yah…” she muttered, then laughed under her breath. “Wear something more neck-covering next time, okay?*”

Your stomach sank.

Your hand shot up, fingers brushing over your skin — and that’s when you felt it.

You turned to Momo.

She was watching, smug as ever. The second your eyes met, her grin widened.

“Fuck,” you muttered.

“Oh no,” Momo teased, voice low. “Don’t hide it now.”

[wanderingelvis]

firstly, love your work!! second, can you write something about elvis being protective as well as maybe some Memphis Mafia content too? 🎀

i have a few of these requests so hopefully this works for all of them! 🎀🪩🕊️

🧚 Masterlist 🧚

word count: 2,508

pairing: 70s elvis x fem reader

warnings: kinda yandere themes, at least very possessive/protective elvis, manipulation

You’d brought new, fresh light into Elvis’ life. He was deep in his Vegas residency and you were this sweet little thing, bringing soft giggles, affectionate touches and happiness into the International Hotel.

Equally, this purity that you radiated came with a price. Elvis felt a need to protect you, in fact, all of the Mafia did. They were paid handsomely to protect you but even if they weren’t, you tugged on all of their heartstrings and they’d all look out for you, but none more so than Elvis.

Sometimes, he’d take it too far, not that you’d realise. His protectiveness went right over your pretty little head. 

Like the time that he’d kicked out two men from a meet and greet with him after a show because they gave you a “shifty look”, or when he fired a make up assistant for letting you have even so much as a sip of champagne. 

You’d ask about them, where they’d gone as you’d sit on Elvis’ knee and Elvis would plead ignorance, telling you that he ain’t getting involved with none of that personnel nonsense and you’d nod before turning back to your fashion magazine.

It was after a show that you thought was simply magical that you decided you needed to find a way to celebrate that success with Elvis. 

And so, you settled on getting Elvis a cupcake. 

You’d seen a stand of cupcakes as you’d headed into the auditorium before the show, as you’d been escorted in, with Elvis’ stepmother Dee holding your hand painfully tightly, seeing you as more of a burden than a friend. You had wanted to stop to try one of the cupcakes but Dee had yanked your wrist a little too harshly that you didn’t get the chance.

You had wished that you’d be free to roam around on your own but Elvis had made it clear that you were always to have an escort.

He insisted that of course he trusted you, it was strangers he didn’t trust, he couldn’t, he tried to explain to you as you nodded albeit with those adorable pouty lips.

In truth, he knew you were a mischevious and curious little thing, and not only that but you were just a little too naive to be left to your own devices. 

He just knew, if someone tried to take advantage of you, they’d be able to succeed just too easily and to that end, Elvis had made a rule to always be escorted, whether you liked it or not.

But you’d decided you were a big girl, you could surely get a cupcake on your own as a present for Elvis after his amazing show and it would be okay. 

Surely.

So as the crowd roared with applause, you scooted over in the booth to Larry Geller, the latest of Elvis’ entourage.

“‘Scuse me Larry, I, um, I gotta go to the ladies room and then I gotta go n’grab this, um, this cupcake for E, I wanted t’get him this present because, well, see that was such a lovely show, and um,” You quickly realised you were rambling to justify being left alone. “I wanted to get him somethin’ pretty!” You said softly with your big eyes glittering.

“Well, you sure you can go on yer own kid? Y’know I was told that you s’posed t’have someone with yer.” Larry mumbled, not really paying attention to you but watching a gaggle of female Elvis fans that were waving to get the attention of the Mafia as Elvis could be seen heading backstage.

“Oh sure Lar! It’s just the ladies room! I’ll be back in no time!” You said, seizing your opportunity. “Promise!” You giggled, scrambling out of the booth and making your way to the cupcake stand.

By the time you’d reached the stand, shuffling through all the bodies piling out of the auditorium, you were enchanted by all the different pretty cupcakes, delicately iced and decorated individually.

Meanwhile, backstage, Elvis had reached his dressing room only to be greeted by the Mafia and not the one single person he actually wanted to see. 

“Where is Y/N?” Elvis said sternly, looking around the room and missing an absent baby.

“She wanted to surprise you with a cupcake so she went to the stand in the lobby.” Larry informed him, not thinking anything of it. 

And suddenly, the tension in the room went from 0 to 100 as everyone else, more experienced with Elvis’ rules and regulations, especially towards you, knew what a monumental fuck up had just occurred.

“What do you mean she’s gone to the lobby? Who’s with her?” Elvis practically spat, his eyes scanning the room to see no one else missing but you.

“I- I sent her on her own.” Larry stammered, realising the error he’d made.

“Goddamn it!” Elvis shouted, slamming his whiskey glass on the table, causing it to shatter and make grown men flinch. “Go get her now. If she’s noticed and I swear to God, if that little girl is hurt, if any goddamn motherfucker has put their hands on her, I’ll kill all of you with my own goddamn hands.” Elvis roared.

A big group left the room and headed out in search of the little girl who was currently in the hotel lobby. 

“It’s you!” A shrill voice hollered at you just as you’d purchased a strawberry cupcake, making you glance up. “You’re Elvis’ chick,” the elderly lady said, partially to you, partially to her friend next to her as the two older women cornered you, the little thing as you held the cupcake for Elvis in your hands, your eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

“I, um, I-“ You stammered, the poor baby. 

“You are a weird little thing aren’t you?” One of them said cruelly. 

“It’s like what they say in the papers about her being like some kinda little pet of Elvis’.” The other one said, in an observational tone that made you scrunch your eyebrows sweetly in confusion. 

“Wha-“ You managed to murmur before being interrupted.

Because then the pile on started, as the enormous crowd started noticing you.

“Y/N, over here!”

“Is it true Elvis dresses you?”

“Does Elvis control you?”

“Are you really a virgin?” 

“Would ya sign this for me?”

“Who did you screw to get with Elvis?”

With tears swelling up in your big eyes and your big bottom lip jutted out, wobbling as amxiety consumed you, all you had wanted was a cupcake for Elvis. 

But maybe he had been right all along, maybe you did need someone with you at all times. 

“Y/N, come here, come with us!” An older lady said, grabbing your forearm with a pinch, making the little girl yelp.

“No, no!” You whimpered as hot tears started to spill from your eyes and down your cheeks. You cowered, trying to wriggle away from the lady. 

You were close to a fully blown panic attack, not that you knew what the words were for that. You just knew you needed your Daddy. 

“Get away from her! I said move!” A loud voice yelled. You recognised the voice as Red West and saw him and Jerry making their way through the crowds.

Red got the woman off you with ease as you clung to Jerry, petrified of your surroundings.

“S’alright now honey, we’re gon’ get you back to EP, you’re okay now darlin’.” Jerry lovingly reassured, sensing how terrified you were, as you sniffled and were rushed away by him.

Truth be told, Jerry thought Larry was a bit of an ass, he understood why Elvis liked him but he knew he wasn’t the right person to leave you with.

You were quickly ushered into the security room where you saw Elvis, surrounded by his entourage and you wasted no time in running over to him.

“There’s my little one.” Elvis soothed, consoling his baby, rubbing circles in your back as you hiccuped and clung to him. “Breathe now baby, deep breaths f’me. Are ya hurt lil’ one?” Elvis cooed but he didn’t give you the time to respond. “Jer, she hurt?” Elvis almost barked.

Jerry stood there, hands on his hips and shaking his head. “I don’t know, boss. There was a crowd and some old lady was hollerin’ at her when I got to her.” 

“A-a lady, a-a lady grabbed me and um, she wanted to, she wanted to take me away and I- I didn’t wanna, I didn’t wanna go Daddy,” You sniffled oh so vulnerably, letting out the nickname Elvis had instructed you to give him and one that slipped out when you did indeed feel needy.

Elvis felt his heart yearn to comfort you but he was still seething at the massive oversight that had taken place, as well as the fact that you’d disobeyed his rule.

“Honey, you know what our rule is about wandering off?” Elvis said coolly, devoid of emotion as he was trying to restrain his anger.

You nodded your head feebly, your cheeks turning a softer pink at the slight embarrassment you felt from Elvis talking down to you in front of all of the guys. “To not wander off on my own and always tell you where I’m goin’ to keep me safe.” You recited sadly in a soft voice. 

“Ain’t that right.” Elvis said lowly. “So why, did ya think it would be a bright lil’ idea to disobey me huh kid? Y’need me t’spank that sweet little ass right here and now so that y’learn and start listenin’ t’me? Is that what y’need huh?” Elvis chastised. 

You knew all of the guys were uncomfortable but you also knew that Elvis didn’t give a damn, his eyes trained darkly on you and oh boy, did it make you feel the size of a mouse.

You looked around, embarrassed with your wet lashes fluttering as you sniffled a little more, an overwhelming bundle of feelings, including feeling scared, shy, panicked, embarrassed and relieved all swelling in your little tummy.

“Well honey? Y’gon use that mouth little one or do I gotta pull you across m’knee?” Elvis said, taking his index finger under your chin and tilting it as he towered over you, so that your watery eyes could meet his.

“I just wanted to get you a cupcake…” You choked out as Elvis’ brows furrowed with confusion.

“A cupcake?” Elvis said, his expression softening as it so often would whenever you spoke.

You nodded with a pout, your swollen bottom lip jutted out. 

You weren’t intentionally trying to melt Elvis’ heart with those soft, sad puppy dog eyes, you were just naturally so sweet that Elvis couldn’t resist abandoning his threats. 

“Uh huh!” You whined. “See, I saw these pretty cupcakes, the ones, the ones out there!” You exasperated, turning your body to point in the direction of the lobby. “Them ones with the decorations and the icing and I just,” You and Elvis both realised that you were getting all worked up again.

“Baby,” Elvis hushed, rubbing soothing circles into the small of your back. 

He could tell just by your odd albeit cute passion for this cupcake that you were telling the truth and you really didn’t want to be in trouble.

You tried the breathing technique that Elvis had taught you for when you so often get a little too overwhelmed as your breaths got ragged. “M’sorry.” You mumbled.

“S’okay baby,”

“I just, you did such a good show, I mean, y’know  I love every show n’you were just so good n’ all, I just, just wanted to get you a present for it. And, see, the cupcakes were just so pretty!” You whimpered, pleading your case. “I know, I know I ain’t s’posed t’be wanderin’ off, I just really wanted t’get you the cupcake. I promise I ain’t gonna go on my own again, not ever!” You promised, your eyes wide, trying to convince Elvis. 

Elvis looked down at your poor state, he knew it had been a scary experience for you, he just needed to look at the way you were picking at your own fingers, actin’ all fidgety. 

When he looked up to observe the expressions on the Mafia’s faces, he knew they all agreed. His sweet thing meant no malice and she sure as hell had been spooked enough to never want to go anywhere without someone with her — and maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing after all, Elvis thought.

“M’real sorry.” You said softly, calmer now that you’d finally managed to get your words out, even if they weren’t exactly coherent.

Elvis smirked as he saw a cupcake box on the side that you’d clearly put down before you’d run into his big arms only moments before. 

“That the ‘oh so special’ cupcake huh little one?” Elvis said with a smile, pointing his index finger to guide your vision.

You simply nodded, you didn’t really have all that much energy left, you were so overstimulated, you poor thing.

“Jer, hand me that box will ya?” Elvis hollered, with Jerry moving swiftly to grab the box and place it in your hands, the odd sniffle coming from you, observing it all. “Want me t’take a look, dolly?” Elvis asked you, his tone now noticeably gentler than it had been.

“Yup.” Is all you managed to muster as Elvis took your little hand in his big one and guided you to the couch, letting you nestle into his side.

You watched with glassy eyes the man you adored with all your heart open the box, showing a pretty little cupcake, even if it was the tiniest bit battered from all the chaos. 

“Oh baby, how did y’know this one would be my favourite huh? How’d you get so clever?” Elvis cooed, realising his job was now to make you feel better.

“Really?” You squeaked, pushing yourself up from his chest to observe his expression as you bit your finger. 

Elvis grabbed your hand to gently pull it away from your mouth, he never approved of you biting your nails, it would make you sick and that’s the last thing he wanted. 

“That’s right darlin’.” 

“They gave it a name, it’s called ‘The King’.” You said gently before Elvis threw his head back with laughter at having a cupcake named after him. “That’s why I got it!” 

Your whole body began to untense at his laughter and you looked around to see all of his entourage too, laughing at what you’d said, making you feel better.

“Oh baby, whatever am I gon’ do with you hey?” Elvis chuckled, pulling you in to lovingly pepper your face with kisses, eliciting sweet giggles from you.

Despite it being a rhetorical question, Elvis knew exactly what he was going to do with you.

He would never again let you get into such a vulnerable and volatile situation again. He was going to make sure you were always looked after  and always kept by his side. 

Constantly.