#◜𝐋 ◞ ⸻ ⃰⊹ video

[eatend]

HENLO 😳✨️

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝒃𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒐 𝒐𝒇 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 ,      ( accepting ! ) ↳ @nulltune.

❛❛ While most rabbits are not an amalgamation of unimaginable horror of my particular interest, they are quite useful. They are a stable source of protein and can be cooked in many, many delicious ways, I can teach you ! They are also fairly cute and easy to kill. ❜❜

⸻ ❛❛ a most wonderful prey animal ! ❜❜

[ellieslittlewh0re]

ִ ⋆｡ °✩ ❝ 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐄 𝐋♡𝐕𝐄 ❞ ✩°｡⋆

(𝒘𝒌) 5k

〚𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒〛 ✰ rockerstar! ellie x groupie! reader ✰

〚𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒〛 ellie williams. her name was everywhere- the underground music’s next breakout star, and for a good reason too- a honeyed voice mixed with gravel, her passion, energy, the fact she was everything rock and roll should be. also, let’s not forget the sex appeal.

〚𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒〛 sex, love, drugs, and rock and roll. !!TW!! for descriptions of drug usage ( c0cain, L$D) fingering (r! receiving), oral (r! receiving), strap on usage (r! receiving) overstim kinda, dom e!, sub r!

It started with a video- a grainy, shity quality one at that, but still a video. She was center stage of some grungy bar from the looks of it, spotlights illuminating her face enough to see stands of her hair sticking to her forehead with sweat, and a chipped cherry red electric guitar hanging from her shoulder. She was magnetic, hypnotizing- not just with her performance, but her looks as well.

From that day on, you just had the desire to get closer to her in any way you could.

-

It had been two months since you started following her band while they toured across the West Coast. You had been to every show, seen every performance, and Ellie was starting to catch on.

The first time she saw you, you immediately caught Ellie's attention- I mean, how could you not? You were by far the hottest girl in the venue that night, swinging your hips so effortlessly it put the rest of the girls to shame. Ellie remembers that night vividly because she was so pissed she couldn't find you after the show to bring you back to her shitty motel room and have her way with you. But Ellie quickly forgot about you when the company of two other girls took your place that night, along with a few too many hits of whatever her drug of choice was during that time.

So, that's how you ended up here- at a run down gas station bathroom touching up your makeup in the middle of the fucking desert, and a van full of strangers that you were currently hitching a ride with waiting outside at the pumps.

And Ellie? Well, Ellie was doing what she always does before a show- drugs, and lots of them, whether it was molly, coke, weed, tabs, or maybe even a deadly concoction of all the above, she didn't care as long as it made her feel alive- claiming it made her perform better or something, but really she just liked being fucked up while fucking girls after the show.

While Ellie was living this "glamorous" rockstar lifestyle, you were on the complete opposite end- quitting your day job to follow some girl around who doesn't even know your name and catching rides from people who definitely look like they have seen the inside of a prison cell- AKA, you were a groupie.

The air was hot, stale. A thin layer of orangy, rust-colored sand coated the windows and the van's gaudy upholstery. The landscape outside flashed like an old fashioned reel movie, cacti, shrubs, Joshua trees, and repeat.

It was desolate, and if the road and occasional mile marker wasn't there to remind you, you would've thought you were on a different planet.

"Your stop is next, daisy." The man with a handle bar mustache yelled from the drivers seat, meeting your eyes in the review mirror.

Daisy. A nickname given to you by the group when they first picked you up further up north. You had a daisy tucked behind your ear, and from then on, you were daisy.

-

It was dark by the time you arrived at the venue, venue isn't really how you would describe it. It was more like a diner turned bar turned into whatever the fuck it was currently. You waved your goodbyes to the the group of not-so-strange strangers, all of them bidding you 'farewells' and 'good lucks' before you watched the red tails fade into the pitch dark of the desert.

For once, you were early. Turns out a bunch of traveling hippies and outcasts aren't on a timed schedule, who knew?

Even though you were early, the dirt patch of a parking lot was packed, cars in various stages of deterioration lining the sides of the building, and people gathering outside to avoid the cramped interior. But you weren't here to socialize or drink and get high- you just wanted to see her, dance to the strum of her guitar, and let her voice consume and overtake you.

It was 40-ish minutes past midnight, meaning Ellie and her band were late, but that's not a surprise. She had a bad habit of keeping the people waiting, but she was a busy girl- hanging out backstage or at a hotel, a room full of girls for her to pick from, and no shortage of drugs and alcohol. But tonight, she went a little too overboard. Her band mates were practically carrying her across the motel parking lot to their van, trying to get her to sober up on the way to the venue with water and motivational speeches that mostly consisted of "get your fucking shit together".

The short 30 minute drive to the venue was barely long enough to get Ellie back in the right state of mind. She was slightly unsteady on her feet, and her speech was a little slurred, but she's used to preforming under these conditions.

You waited patiently of course, babying a strong cocktail mix since you didn't dare get drunk and risk not remembering every detail of the night- every detail of her.

When the crowd shifted their attention to the back entrance of the building, silent murmurs at first before a load cheer erupting was when you knew, she was here, and she looked like heaven- a black tank top that was torn near the neckline, a studded belt loosely securing a pair of baggy, black patchwork cargo pants.

The crowd parted a pathway for her as she made her way through the room with her bandmates following behind, a cigarette tucked between her lips as she'd occasionally stop to sign whatever was thrown at her- a piece of paper, cash, a pair of tits- which she'd always happily comply, but if she saw a girl she liked, she would lick her pointer finger and index, smearing part of her signature on their cleavage while the marker was still wet to subtly let you know that she wanted your company for the night- at least, that's the rumor you've heard.

You found yourself holding your breath- she was so close, a mere body or two keeping you at arm's length from her. You could smell the cigarette smoke, and see the details of her chipped black nail polish holding the marker between her fingers.

Ellie hands the notebook and marker back into the wave of hands, looking up while blowing out a cloud of smoke, and that's when she sees you. She was about to walk off, but she stopped for a second. You don't look like you belong- you were different, sweet, and innocent-looking compared to the rest of the audience. But she doesn't let her eyes linger long, she has a show to put on after all.

She turned, and walked towards the stage stairs, and centered herself behind the mic. She shifted her weight on her feet, and took one last drag of the cigarette before suffocating the embers on a ashtray near the edge of the stage.

"How's everyone doing tonight?" She barely could make out before the crowds hollering drowned out her voice. She laughed into the mic while plugging a cord into her guitar that was connected to a beefy looking amp.

Her ego was at its biggest right now- just her mere appearance could make a group of strangers act like dogs, and she fucking loved it.

She played a few cords on the guitar, ensuring the tune was where she wanted it before looking back up into the crowd, "c'mon, you can do better than that." And even though her mouth was covered by the mic, you could tell she was smirking.

The crowd cheered louder, fists clenched high above the sea of heads, and chanted her name over and over exactly how she wanted them to.

And for you? Well, you were also chanting her name, maybe not as loud, but you were too busy squeezing your way through to get to the front.

She needed to be able to see you.

And she did see you- you were front row, playfully singing and dancing along, your bright, twinkling eyes boring into every little thing she did- from the way she'd run her hand through the front of her hairline, ridding her face of the baby hairs and bangs, down to the way her fingers curled over the frets of her guitar. She made sure to look elsewhere into the crowd, interacting with everyone, but her eyes always found themselves back on you.

-

Ellie closed out the show with an encore, most of the crowd was overly intoxicated at this point, stumbling, and starting meaningless fights with whoever was closest- aka the usual time you'd leave, but you couldn't, at least, not when Ellie was walking towards you, her eyes set on you. You glanced to your right then your left- confused, and definitely was searching for an explanation as to why she was getting closer. Surely, it was someone else who caught her attention, but it was only you nearby.

You take a step back from the stage as the tips of her dirty converse near the edge. She bends down at the knees before sitting all together, dangling her legs over the edge. She doesn't say anything, and you didn't either, maybe from intimidation mixed with confusion as to why she chose to sit here out of all places.

She reaches her tattooed arm behind, shifting her weight to pull out a pack of cigarettes, and offering the carton to you, but you shyly decline. She smirked, a dimple deepening on the one side of her cheek, "So-" She said, her voice momentarily muffled by the cigarette between her lips, "-you don't look like you're from here, where'd you come from, baby?" She ignited the end with a metal lighter, holding a free hand up to cover the flame which only amplified the warm glow of the flame on her face.

You chuckled a nervous laugh, looking down at your fingers as she blew out a puff of smoke, "M' not. I'm from up north. " Your voice trembled, leaking with submission and uncertainty which only fascinated her more, but also she was frustrated- most girls wouldn't need a conversation to know what Ellie wanted from them, and you weren't looking at her.

She grabs your hand, and pulls you closer to the space between her knees. A sharp breath gets caught in your throat as she does this, your cheeks hot, and your gut feels like it's jumping being this close to her- enough to smell the fumes of her cologne mixed with ash. You watch her fingers come up and hover over your chest, her fingers gently dancing along the skin of your clavicle to examine the charm of your necklace, but really it was just a flirtation tactic to her.

"What's a girl like you doing in the desert in the middle of the night, huh?" She asked, dropping her voice down to an almost whisper- raspy, and thick with suggestion. You shake your head side to side, a nervous tick of yours when you felt uncomfortable, but being uncomfortable isn't always a bad thing.

"I uh-" you paused, mentally wavering if you should tell the truth since it does seem a little pathetic. "-I wanted to see you play."

Ellie's eyebrows raise, her bottom lip puckering into a frown with a slight nod. "Is that so?" She hummed, rolling the edges of the charm between her fingers. Ellie was certain she had seen you before. It wasn't a trick of the light or getting your face confused with some other hot chick- you were unmistakable. But she didn't want you to know that she found you out, not yet, not now.

Ellie learned in further, your knees almost buckling out from under you, feeling her breath against your lips. She played it off like she was getting a closer look at your necklace, extending the religious symbolic charm out so the chain tugged on your neck. "Do you believe?" She asked, still looking at the damn necklace, furrowing her brows like she was in a deep philosophical thought.

You swallowed dryly, wishing you still had your drink from easier, "N-not really-" you stuttered, "it was a gift from when I was younger."

Ellie chuckled, but it wasn't lighthearted or sweet- it was dark, methodical, and a tad bit sadistic.

She released the charm from her fingers, letting it hit your bare chest with a muted thud before looking up. Her eyes were a darker shade than you remembered them being- irises blown out and framed beautifully by a thick band of dark eyelashes.

Her hand reached out and gently grabbed you by the wrist before yanking you closer so your tummy was flush with the side of the stage, leaving only a few inches between your tits and the denim of her crotch.

You inhaled a sharp, breathy yelp as she did this, your hands not knowing what to do or where to divert your eyes- her hands on you, her face so close to yours that you could count the freckles on her cheeks, even the ones that are faint enough to miss- or maybe how her thighs were drifting apart, and you were in between them.

Her hand comes up, which causes you to squeeze your eyes shut, but the wrinkles around your eyes relax as you feel her hand on your face and her lips on yours. You moaned instantly at the contact, resting your hand on her thigh where it felt most comfortable. Ellie took this opportunity to slip her tongue inside, using the muscle to work against yours. Her hand snakes down your side, squeezing the soft flesh of your hip before pulling away, leaving you breathless, and hazy.

Her eyes were intense looking into yours, her lips wet and craving a deeper satisfaction.

She only said one thing, a simple sentence that would separate you from being just some regular fan,

"Come with me tonight, and I'll show you something worth believing."

-

So that's how your night shifted- how one decision to follow some band across the state had finally paid off because now you were here- a hotel room, alone with the band's most valuable member snorting lines of a white powdery substance off of a mirror topped end table.

Ellie held the rolled 20 between her fingers, putting the end of it to her nose while the index on her other closed the opposing nostril shut. She dragged the end of the cylinder across the smuggled surface, inhaling deeply until the white line disappeared behind it.

"Fuuck-" She sighed, throwing her head back, and swipes the bottom of her nose with her thumb,

"Here-" She held out the rolled 20 for you to take, but you lean away,

"I don't do that stuff."

She looks at you curiously, a furrow between her brows that suggests she found your refusal even more entertaining.

Ellie leaned forward and turned her body to face you on the edge of the dusty duvet, "What-" She scoffed, "'think you're too good for it?"

You shook your head violently, indicating a 'no', "No- no, that's not what I meant-"

Ellie laughed, causing you to stop mid-sentence, "I'm just fucking with you, doll. I should've known." She smiles, and you return the smile in relief that you didn't actually offend her.

Your eyes divert to the wallpapered walls- a faint pattern of stripes with cream-colored baseboards, a warm yellowed lamp on the bedside being the only source of light in the room to contrast the night outside.

You felt her hand creep up your thigh, tempting the skin below the hem of your dress before it disappeared underneath the fabric altogether. She leaned in, her other hand on your face to encourage you closer, whispering a "so soft" in a raspy breath before connecting your lips with hers.

It started slow- her lips overlapping yours like a soft current on a still morning before it turned into a ranging one during a windy cast. You moaned into her- soft and delicate mews between each detachment, and it fueled her.

Ellie's body overpowered yours, using her strength to her advantage. But it's not like she needed it- you were putty in her hands, fully committing yourself to her, letting her push you into your back, and her body hovering on top of yours.

You squirmed beneath her- each bump, and drag of her knee between your legs left you feeling more desperate.

"Ellie-" you broke the kiss in a breathless euphoria, looking up at her with a needy expression. Ellie knew that face well- it's not like she had all this experience and didn't know what to do with it, so- she got up, leaving you alone on the bed, and walked over to a black duffle bag decorated with pins of miscellaneous logos and bands.

She riffled through it, pulling a small clear plastic bag out before joining you back on the bed.

She opened the baggie, pulling something out no bigger than the size of a postage stamp, and tearing it into smaller halves before looking up,

"Do you trust me?" She asked, her green eyes piercing into yours, causing a wet sensation to spill from the heat between your legs. You swallowed, not really sure what you were agreeing to, but you nodded anyway, "Yes, Ellie... I trust you."

She placed the colorfully decorated paper on her tongue and held the sides of your face, kissing you and slipping her tongue inside, transferring whatever it was into your mouth before pulling away. "Swallow." She demanded, tilting your face up by your chin, and you did it without hesitation- straining the walls of your throat as the mystery stamp slid downwards.

She smirked, and swiped her thumb over your bottom lip, "good girl."

She followed it up by doing the same, placing the tab on her tongue and swallowing, but she made it seem so much more intentional like a ritual of some sorts.

Ellie leaned away from you in the bed to rest her back against the headboard and pillows, "C'mere" she said nonchalantly, patting her thighs.

With shaky knees, you did as you were told and crawled your way up her legs until you were straddling her waist.

Her hands come up to rest on your hips, her thumbs tracing circles through the flimsy fabric of your dress, "so obedient" she said lightly, almost under her breath to herself and not at you directly. 

Her hands started to wander- first on your hips, then down to your thighs, gliding them up to the plush beneath your skirt. You felt her fingertip squeeze and caress, sending chills up your spine and a hot/cold sensation throughout your body.

Next, her lips were on yours, and her fingers were tightening the follicles on the back of your scalp as the kisses became more intense. Your back instinctively arches, and you reach a hand between your legs to soothe the ache, but she stops you with a firm grip on your wrist, "Gettin' impatient, huh?" She said in a cocky tone, smirking against your lips. You whimpered- nodding your head, and grabbed her hand, inching it closer to your core.

Ellie chucked at this- the kind of chuckle that was half way a scoff, and half way felt like an insult.

"Damn- you need me to fill you up that bad? 'thought you were one of them good girls."

She tisked her tongue against her teeth, but still let you guid her hand where you needed her.

The back of her knuckles grazed between the pillowy folds over your panties, going agonizingly slow before turning her hand over to fully palm your cunt.

You melt on top of her, resting your head against her shoulder, all the while dragging your hips against her hand.

She turns her head, her warm breath fanning against the helix of your ear, "You're so wet and I've barely touched you."

Her words echoed throughout your brain like her voice waves were sending signals to every part of your body. And her touch was magnified- each cell, fiber, and pore was experiencing a new sense of heightened, whether it be because of the drugs or not, you couldn't be sure.

"El-Ellie, please... need you."

Your words rang a siren song to Ellie's ears, creating a sticky pool between her own legs. She muttered a guttural "fuck" before she grabs you by the sides of your thighs, flipping you over so she was on top of you.

She was already yanking down your underwear, and tossing them to the side before you could comprehend what was happening. You felt her fingers stinging to the flesh of your thighs, prying them apart like she couldn't wait to see you, to taste you.

You sucked in a sharp breath as her tongue lightly traced a line down your folds before her lips met your clit where she pulsated the bud between her lips, letting out a moan as she made contact, "fuuck-" She curses before flicking her tongue over your bundle of nerves, igniting a colorful array of shapes behind your tightly closed eyes.

She was messy but precise- using her tongue along with the motion of her head to send you that much further. Your fingers tangled in her hair, tugging harder the closer you got which was the perfect time in Ellie's eyes to add a finger.

She slowly pushed her middle finger inside, stopping halfway at her knuckle to let you adjust before slamming it all the way till her knuckles were snug against your puffy lips.

You wriggled beneath her, reaching out to push her away with a palm to her shoulder, but that only makes her add a second finger.

You cry out loudly through heavy breaths, the veins on her forearm coming to the surface of her skin from how much force she was using, and her mouth putting in just as much work.

You were climbing higher and higher, the peripheral of your vision going white-

"Ellie... I'm- I'm gonna-" You don't have much time to warn her before your body starts to spaz, starting at your hips and up into your chest like volts of electricity through a highly active current.

Your knees close around her head, your back arching high off the mattress, and your eyes rolling into the back of your head. She slows her pace as you come down before pulling her fingers out and lifting her head.

With your eyes closed, and an arm draped over your face, you feel her pat the inside of your thigh before her weight leaves the bed.

She comes back a couple of minutes later, only opening your eyes when you feel her weight return to the mattress.

Your eyes go wide as you take notice of the new attachment- a black, strappy harness with buckles near her hips, and a crude shaped silicone cock bulging at her crotch.

She lowers herself over you, her hands on each side of your head before she leans down to kiss you, slipping her tongue inside. She pulled back, momentarily admiring the way you looked just from something as simple as oral and some fingering- glossy eyes, puffy lips smeared with her spit, and if she looked down- how your inner thighs glistened.

Her lips trial from yours, staring at your neck, then your chest, and finally your tits which Ellie had absolutely no problem with pulling the straps down to expose them, leaving the fabric bunched around your stomach. In her eyes, everything she wanted- no, needed was accessible this way.

Ellie looks up, placing a delicate kiss on the skin of your lower stomach, "Got one more fr' me, pretty girl?" She asked softly, tenderly, but it still managed to come off more intimidating than a question should sound.

You nodded shyly, a small whine emitting from the back of your throat, looking down at her with your breasts out for her viewing, grabbing pleasure, and your legs spread wide, ready to take her.

She lifted her upper half up, slim fingers holding the base of her cock, and lined the artificial tip with your entrance. She glided the tip up your folds, coating it with your slick, and let out a sultry exhale since she could practically see your walls clenching around nothing in preparation for her.

She teased you for a bit- only giving you a couple of inches before backing away and repeating, each time causing you to whine harder and harder out of frustration. Sure, Ellie was having her fun watching you squirm, grab for her, and fuck- how your hole gapped each time she pulled out, a clear, viscous fluid leaking from it, but she was growing just as impatient- feeling your legs wrap around her waist, pulling her closer, pleading variations of her name and "please" and who is she to deny you when you ask so nicely?

She thrusts her hips forward until her crotch was flesh with your ass, your legs in the air, and her hands pushing on the back of your thighs.

"Is this what you wanted, huh?" She gritted, pulling her hips back only to snap them forward again.

You cried out loudly, curling your fingers around the bedsheets until the blood stopped circulating, turning the skin there a lighter shade than the rest of you.

She pushed harder on the back of your thighs- your knees pressed up against your chest, and using what you can imagine is all of her strength to thrust into you. She was reaching the deepest part of your cervix- grunting and moaning on Ellie's end while you mewled high-pitched noises mixed with the wet slapping of her cock repeatedly slamming into you.

Ellie's eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly upward, and her lips parted as insufficient, short breaths seep from them. Her hips started to falter from the endless abuse her clit was suffering behind the base of her strap, her boxers now a sticky, cold mess that stuck to her cunt and thighs.

She collapses on top of you, snugging herself between your legs to connect her lips to yours in a desperate effort, overpowering all your senses with her. She continues to fill you over and over again, both of you moaning in between breathless lips.

You wrapped her arms around her as her head hung low into your neck, digging your nails into the skin of her shoulder blades.

"El... mmhm- I'm gonna-" You babbled before biting your lip to silence the cry that was bubbling in the back of your throat, and Ellie wasn't far behind.

The pistoning motions of her hips turned into a grinding one- keeping a steady pace and rolling her hips forward, "M-me too- fuck... stay with me, yeah?" She said in between soft pants, the warmth of her breath brushing against your lips as her hand came up to gently but firmly wrap around your neck.

Ellie's head goes fuzzy as you looked up at her with your half-hooded gaze and your perfectly rosette lips that are just begging to be wrapped around something, so- she released the hold she had on your neck and brought her two fingers that were previously inside of you to your mouth.

She didn't even have to say anything for you to part your lips wider, slipping her fingers inside and rolling them over your tongue.

You moan, closing your lips around her as her fingers reach further back, causing tears to fall from the corner of your eyes.

"That's it-" She coaxed, her eyes focused on the split trailing down your chin,"-such a good girl."

She motioned her fingers in and out in a vulgar manner, bitting her bottom lip before pulling her fingers out all together to fist the bed sheets beside her.

"Fuckfuckfuck-oh my god-" She grunted incoherently, dropping her head to space between your neck and shoulder. Her forehead glistened with proof of her efforts as she rushed the pace to ease the itch between her legs.

You tightened your legs around her waist, pretty little noises falling on Ellie's ears as you both peak.

She rolls her hips- making it slow and deep until your voice grows tired and quiet before pushing her upper half away from you.

You wince at her absence, feeling your walls retract back to its original shape like the sand inside of an hourglass.

She plopped down beside you with an exaggerated sigh of exhaustion, pulling up the bottom of her tank top to wipe the slick/sweat mixture from her chin and nose, giving you a few seconds to admire her hardened stomach and prominent 'v' which lead your eyes down to the fake dick still standing high between her thighs.

She catches you looking, the corner of her lips tugging into a smirk as she lets out a low chuckle.

You meet her eyes, realizing you have been caught, which causes you to look away quickly, but her hand grabs yours.

"Gettin' shy on me now after all that?" She said, pulling at your hand to silently instruct you to get on top of her, so you did.

Her hands rub up and down your thighs, and her bottom lip snug between her teeth. She eyes your body, starting from your tits down to her cock that is resting against your lower stomach.

"Wanna do me a favor?" She asked, palming the fat of your thigh that spilled over the heels of your feet. You hummed at her- a sweet, genuine hum that was full of eagerness to assist her, which almost made Ellie feel bad for what she was about to say- key word almost.

"Put that pretty little mouth of yours to use and clean me up."

[bombsquad9]

Hii, hope you’re doing good, could you please do a Carlos’ nsfw alphabet?

Of course I can, hun! Coming right up for you! (18+)

><—><—><——><—><—><——><—><—><—><

✞𝐀✞ 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 (𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱?)

—> I’m sure this man is a sweetheart after sex, not that he isn’t always. He will make sure you’re alright, get you whatever you need and want, and then hold you all night. Carlos would make sure you won’t have to lift a finger after the fact.

✞𝐁✞ 𝐁𝗼𝐝𝐲 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 (𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝗼𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐛𝗼𝐝𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝗼𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫? 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝗼𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝗺𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟?)

—> On him I would like to think it’s his arms, he’s worked hard on building up muscle and he knows it’s sexy, so he owns it. He likes the way you look trapped between them, or when you’re trapped in a headlock by them while taking it from behind <3

—> On his partner I feel like he’d like their ass, he just seems like that guy to me. He likes the way it ripples when you’re taking it from behind, or when he smacks it. He can’t help it, he thinks it’s cute.

✞𝐂✞ 𝐂𝐮𝗺 (𝐀𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝗼 𝐭𝗼 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐮𝗺.)

—> Lovesss to cum on your face. He loves seeing your pretty face all ruined and sticky under his doing, bonus points if you’re wearing any form of makeup. Carlos also loves cumming on your ass.

✞𝐃✞ 𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 (𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝗼𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐬?)

—> If he’s away on a mission or something, he totally jerks off to videos and pictures he’s took of you while fucking your brains out. <3

✞𝐄✞ 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 (𝐇𝗼𝐰 𝗺𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝗼 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞? 𝐃𝗼 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝗼𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝗼𝐢𝐧𝐠?)

—> Carlos probably has a shit ton of experience, he knows what he’s doing, and he’ll definitely learn how to get you off in no time. He’s skilled in all categories, so you’re definitely not gonna be let down.

✞𝐅✞ 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝗼𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐏𝗼𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝗼𝐧 (𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝗼𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝗼𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝗼𝐧?)

—> Doggy Style: He loves seeing your ass jiggle as he pounds into you from behind, giving you the occasional smack to watch it ripple more.

—> Lotus: Carlos enjoys the closeness. Plus the fact he can see every facial expression that proves he hits every little spot perfectly.

✞𝐆✞ 𝐆𝗼𝗼𝐟𝐲 (𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝗼𝐮𝐬 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝗼𝐫 𝐝𝗼 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝗼 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲?

—> I feel like he would crack a joke or two, but otherwise he’s pretty serious. He’s Mr. Funny, how could he not make a random joke?

✞𝐇✞ 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐫 (𝐇𝗼𝐰 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐫𝗼𝗼𝗺𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲? 𝐃𝗼𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐭 𝗺𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐬?)

—> I would say he keeps up with it pretty nicely, isn’t bare though because he thinks it looks goofy. He has a little happy trail too, so he thinks it wouldn’t makes sense to have the happy trail and no hair down there.

✞𝐈✞ 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐢𝗺𝐚𝐭𝐞 (𝐇𝗼𝐰 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝗼𝗺𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝗼 𝐫𝗼𝗺𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐱?)

—> He can be good at it, but I think you’d have to ask for it most times.

✞𝐉✞ 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐎𝐟𝐟 (𝐃𝗼 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝗺𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐞? 𝐇𝗼𝐰 𝗼𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧?)

—> When he doesn’t have a partner, he probably jerks off often. When he does have a partner, it goes down a significant amount. He still does occasionally though if his partner isn’t available for some reason.

✞𝐊✞ 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 (𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬?)

—> Overstimulation, marking, teasing, etc. he’s open to try a lot, all you gotta do is ask.

✞𝐋✞ 𝐋𝗼𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝗼𝐧 (𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝗼𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝗼 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐱?)

—> He likes the bed because there are less restrictions of what you can do….buttttt he LOVES to bend you over the dining room table or kitchen counter.

✞𝐌✞ 𝐌𝗼𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝗼𝐧 (𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝗺 𝗼𝐧?)

—> All you gotta do is mutter what you want him to do to you in his ear, or leave some teasing touches down his arm and he wants to bend you over and fuck you. He’s not that hard to get going.

✞𝐍✞ 𝐍𝗼 (𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐬𝗼𝗺𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝗼𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝗼 𝐝𝗼?)

—> Nothing that would hurt you, he just wouldn’t be able to bring himself to do it. He loves you, so why would he cause you pain?

✞𝐎✞ 𝐎𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐃𝗼 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝗼𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠? 𝐇𝗼𝐰 𝐠𝗼𝗼𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭?)

—> Carlos love both, don’t get him wrong, but something about getting his lover off with his mouth drives him crazy. He would gladly drop to his knees and give his partner a blowjob/eat them out in a heartbeat.

—> On the other hand, this man cannot resist a sloppy blow job. This goes back to the cumming on your face thing, because it drives this man absolutely feral.

✞𝐏✞ 𝐏𝐚𝐜𝐞 (𝐃𝗼 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐠𝗼𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝗼𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝗼𝐫 𝐬𝐥𝗼𝐰?)

—> Carlos can do slow and rough, it’s up to his partner and what they want. He rather go a bit rough though, he likes watching his partner get absolutely ruined.

✞𝐐✞ 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬 (𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝗼𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐢𝗼𝐧𝐬 𝗼𝐧 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬?)

—> Always down for a quickie, just pull him into the nearest bathroom, dressing room and go at it.

✞𝐑✞ 𝐑𝐢𝐬𝐤 (𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝗼 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢���𝐞𝐧𝐭? 𝐃𝗼 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤𝐬?)

—> He’d be down, whatever you wanna try that’s considered risky he’d do it. As I said in the last letter, he’d be down to fuck in the a bathroom or dressing room if he really wanted to.

✞𝐒✞ 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝗺𝐢𝐧𝐚 (𝐇𝗼𝐰 𝗺𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐫𝗼𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐝𝗼 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝗼𝐫?)

—> He can go for awhile, maybe 3 rounds? Training helped him with it a lot.

✞𝐓✞ 𝐓𝗼𝐲𝐬 (𝐃𝗼 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝗼𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝗼𝐲𝐬? 𝐃𝗼 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝗺 𝗼𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝗺𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟, 𝗼𝐫 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫?)

—> I don’t think he would own any, BUT would definitely buy some if you wanna use them. He’s not opposed to utilizing them, he doesn’t care cause he just wants to see you get off.

✞𝐔✞ 𝐔𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫 (𝐃𝗼 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝗼 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞? 𝐇𝗼𝐰 𝗺𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐝𝗼 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞?)

—> Carlos is the biggest tease, will purposely set a slow pace so that you can’t cum and claims he’s just ‘taking his time and didn’t realize’. He’ll whisper the filthiest things in your ear all day so that you’re begging for him later. Anything to get you riled up, really.

✞𝐕✞ 𝐕𝗼𝐥𝐮𝗺𝐞 (𝐇𝗼𝐰 𝐥𝗼𝐮𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐝?)

—> I don’t think Carlos would be loud, but would definitely get louder when he’s getting close to cumming. He lets out quiet groans and grunts.

✞𝐖✞ 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐝 (𝐀 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝗼𝗺 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝗼𝐧 𝐟𝗼𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫)

—> I think he’d want to try something like a threesome at least once.

✞𝐗✞ 𝐗-𝐑𝐚𝐲 (𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝗼𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝗼𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝗼𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝗼𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬?)

—> Thick, really thick. He’s not extremely long, but definitely above average. Will stretch you out very nicely. His tip is a cute little pink color.

✞𝐘✞ 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 (𝐇𝗼𝐰 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡/𝐥𝗼𝐰 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞?)

—> I would say he definitely has a decently high sex drive, and it doesn’t really take much to get him going.

✞𝐙✞ 𝐙𝐳𝐳.. (𝐇𝗼𝐰 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝗼 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐟����𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬?)

—> After you’re taken care of and don’t need anything? This man is out like a light, and he sleeps like a rock on the side of the road. He probably just lays on you and nuzzles into your neck and call it done once you’re taken care of.

><—><—><——><—><—><——><—><—><—><

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭: None Currently

A/N: Comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

[hwajin]

✞ 「 .✶۪ .° ✞ : 𝐇 𝐈 — 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐄 !! : a series

☆ — chapter one; Soda Pop :

✞ 「 .✶۪ : see series masterlist and warnings here

✞ 「 .✶۪ : chapter word count: 12.1k

✞ 「 .✶۪ : chapter warnings: fluff and angst, y/n's kind of an asshole, first mentions of cheating!!, stupidity and immaturity

✞ 「 .✶۪ : heavily inspired by: 'nana' by ai yazawa!

author's note: it's finally here!!!! i've been crafting on this series for a good year now, and while i know it's nowhere near good because serieses aren't my strength at all, i hope you'll still enjoy it!! pleaseee please please let me know what you think of it, every bit of feedback is highly appreciated <3333 enjoy <3

The sound of console buttons and video game soundtrack filled the stuffy studio, particles of dust dancing in the burning summer sun. Han bit against his lip piercing while he plugged his guitar into the old AMP the bunch of you had found on a flea market two years ago – it’s been roughly thirty dollars, and you had sworn to have found heaven back then; admittedly, though the old box was working to its’ best abilities, it was high time to hunt for a new one. Han’s heavy silver rings scratched against the yet untuned strings of his instrument, and the sound was almost uncomfortable; though never quite, for it was music after all.

You would never grow tired of it, you thought. Of music, of everything revolving it – it was your everything, your earliest memories, your dearest experiences; your closest friendships, even. Ever since your parents had bought you your first electric piano – one for kids only, and not of best quality altogether though you had loved it all the same – notes and tunes had been all around you, always. With seven years old you’d been signed up for your first piano lesson, which no other kid in your course had been as excited to visit as you had been; with ten years, mere three years later, when Han had moved into your neighbourhood with his parents, you’d convinced your own to let you visit guitar lessons with him. They hadn’t needed much persuasion; they’d noticed early on just how much you enjoyed the hobby, and they’d never been ones to forbid you passion. There had been fights when your parents had realised you’ve been far more serious about music than they had imagined, or hoped, even; at fifteen years old you had planned to drop out of school with your best friend, and both your and his parents had lost hours of sleep and nerves convincing you of the opposite. Two years later, at seventeen, both you and Han were sure not to apply to college, initially – that, too, had caused tears and frustration over both of you and your parents. You and Han, having felt pressured to take action, had decided to apply to a college, somewhat pretentiously, where you would start an amateur band – it would keep both you and your families happy.

You set up your microphone, guitar long in hand, the worn-out leather band cutting into your neck, pulling at loose strands of hair, the weight of your instrument laying heavily on your shoulders. You were used to it; enjoyed the feeling like nothing else.

“Guys, wrap it up, some of us have classes soon.”

Just then Changbin’s groan sounded against Jeongin’s shout of victory – in three years of knowing the pair there has been only one occasion on which Changbin has won a game of Mario against Jeongin; that the younger had been knocked out drunk back then, Changbin never wanted to admit. The older man threw his console onto the carpeted floor in frustration, emitting a cloud of dust where it hit – his determination to win was admirable, if you were honest, though his pouting and sulking was amusing every time anew.

“Bro, I swear you’re dead next time.”

Jeongin snickered as they both made their way to their positions behind you, and the rest of you erupted in a fit of protests and laughter. “You should accept defeat to be honest, I’d be embarrassed by now if I was you – there’s bad game play, and then there’s you.”, Han’s voice thinned out towards the end of his sentence when Changbin shot him a deadly look – the younger momentarily busied himself with his guitar again, merely smirking to himself at his friends’ sensitivity.

“Guys, c’mon now, we don’t have all day.”

The two friends both mockingly imitated you, though got behind their instruments – Jeongin stood behind the long-ready piano, Changbin picking up his long-tuned bass. The small college studio momentarily filled with vibrations and resonances of instruments – Jeongin playing warm-up chords, Changbin letting chime a long tone, Minho, who all of you – after you’d seen a commercial on the TV you had now long forgotten – had started calling Lino over your years of friendship besides his very active protest against it, gave a couple experimental sounds against the snare of his drums behind the thin plexiglass he was seated. It was heaven to your ears. There was nothing, you’d argue, that you loved more than the sound of the small room filling up entirely with the harmonies of your instruments, every single one coming together to play the songs Han wrote so diligently for your little amateur band besides his college assignments. Not that he was taking them too seriously, anyways – he planned to be a musician, no matter the cost.

“Alright, everyone in position, everyone ready?”, you waited for the lot to groan softly in agreement, looking back at them all to give you a nod, “I’ll count in…”, the tension in the studio thickened now, all bickering forgotten; and everyone waited for your commando, “five…”, a beat, your voice sounding through the room, “six…”, another beat, your voice louder now, your fingers ready on your instrument, everyone else watching you intently, adjusting in their position, “five, six, seven, eight!”

The room erupted in deafening volume, Jeongin’s synthetic piano sounding softly against Lino’s loud kick drums, Changbin’s bass harmonising with Han’s guitar; your voice sounding above it all.

It hadn’t been until you were out of school four years ago when you had started singing, so, naturally, you weren’t the strongest vocalist; it was Han who had convinced you to give it a try, arguing the tone in your voice to be unique, and diminishing, simultaneously, the necessity of looking for a vocalist for the band you had started planning back then, already. Your skills had gotten better over the years – your bandmates had made it fashion to remind you of it, no less because you yet needed to learn to acquire confidence in your skill. Four years later – you liked your voice, and the five of you had found the sound that fitted it best, despite your remaining weaknesses.

‘Hope’ – the name of the band, the name of Han’s and Jeongin’s favourite cigarette brand. You had been nineteen and not very creative, had all, except Lino, met on the first day of college which only half of you took seriously – you were one those after your initial rebelling against it, wanting something stable and secure in case practical music wouldn’t work out in the long run; so, you’d decided to study theoretical and historical music, hoping to find yourself in the same field after all. You enjoyed your studies – as much as one could enjoy talking of chords and cadences and harmonies instead of playing them, or discussing composers of genius minds who have died centuries ago –it was no comparison to the time you spent in the studio, the passion it brought, the utter joy that coursed your veins whenever you held your guitar in hands, stood before your microphone stand. Mozart and Bach could only spark your interest so much, if the small, dusty college studio and your bandmates in it were right around the corner.  

Changbin and Jeongin were both English students; both figured that taking a universally, to quote them, ‘easy major’ would allow them to focus on their music, and to spend as little time in a classroom as it was humanly possible to still pass – you wondered if they’ve ever seen one from the inside, altogether.

Lino on the other hand, a business major and taking his studies with diligence, though never seeming to be actually doing his assignments, only ever having finished them with perfect grades, seemingly magically, didn’t put too much hope into an amateur band, and simply enjoyed his hobby while working towards his future career. It was a shame, though – he was a genius drummer, his loudest when he carried two sticks in his hands; you didn’t remember if you’ve ever truly heard his voice over the past years, though he was compensating his usual silence the moment he sat behind his instrument; and if it wasn’t his instrument, he preferred spending his time with cats rather than with humans.

And lastly there’s been Han and you. Best friends since you were little, though you’ve never visited the same school, so all the more excited when you had decided to apply to the same college together – despite not for the same majors, you would still be together. The band was his idea, initially.

“LOOKING FOR: DRUMMER, BASSIST, PIANIST, SECOND VOCAL FOR AMATEUR BAND. CONTACT HERE.”

had been written on the hundreds of flyers Han had taken with him for the first day of college you had anticipated giddily, and he had hung up the pieces of paper on every free space of wall and pillar he could find around campus – back then you hadn’t been aware of needing a written permission of the colleges’ office to hang up advertisements, and Han was forced to take down his flyers within the same week –, you had laughed at him and called it silly; though Changbin and Jeongin, friends since a little before college, had sat next to you both at the first-semester-students ceremony, and had caught eye of the papers in Han’s lap.

“Wait, it’s your flyers we’ve seen around? We’d be so down!”

You had eyed them sceptical back then – they had looked far too typical for an amateur-college-band, almost, heavy silver chains hanging around both their necks, their nails coloured pitch black, Jeongin looking at you with a nose piercing and blond streaks in his hair, their outfits raven and dark; though you had looked at Han, unevenly self-bleached hair, an eyebrow piercing adorning his face, his own scratched down black nail polish begging to be reapplied, boots on his feet two numbers too big, and you’d noticed, almost shamefully, that all four of you had looked like the prime example of people to form an amateur-college-band on the very first day of classes. It hadn’t needed much more conversation after that; the two friends had been welcomed into the band that had previously consisted of only you and Han, and Lino had contacted you three days later – right before Han had bashfully taken off his flyers.

It had needed some time until the five of you had started to click and work together; though yours and Jeongin’s voice had mixed well from the get-go, and everyone’s skill had been to a far higher standard than either you or Han would have anticipated. Lino had surprised you the most; while Changbin had been cocky from the first day you met him and Jeongin had been confident about his skills, Lino hadn’t talked much, nor had he looked, even, like a typical drummer. Not that there was a certain look to them, you simply wouldn’t have expected that under the quiet nature there was so much vigour and emotion, so much volume the moment he had given you a first idea of his level and skill, to see if he was a fit for your band at all; it had been fascinating, was to this day.

The song ended, the cups of your fingers aching, your neck strained, your voice in need of water; it was a successful practice. Jeongin and Changbin both expressed sounds of satisfaction, Han joining them while the echo of your instruments vibrated in the room for a couple moments, before they died out eventually.

“That was so good! The best we did so far, I think!”

Voices sounding through the room, and you turned around to look at your friends. Everyone joined into exclamations of praise, turning off and unplugging their instruments, stretching, cracking their knuckles. Conversation of pride filled the room; the praise never lasted long, though.

“Bin, stay in my rhythm a bit more next time, especially in the second half – don’t get too excited.”, Lino’s voice from behind the glass while he made room to get up from behind his seat. When you had first started practising with him, the tone in his voice during words of critique almost scared you, though with time you acquired to him, and learned to love his honesty – he was never condescending about mistakes, and always accepting of bettering his own errors.

“Yeah, I noticed too, my bad. I lose my count after the chorus. And I was distracted by you two,” Changbin gave a quick look between you and Jeongin, “you need to harmonise better. There was some dissonance after the first part, you need to sit down and figure out the second half better.”

You nodded at Jeongin, he returned it, knowingly. There were never hard feelings after critique, not anymore – initially, when you had started out, all of you had wanted to prove your rights, all far too proud to accept defeat, though now you loved your bandmates for being able to speak what’s on their mind, for it would only improve you as a whole.

“Well, and you two lovebirds were perfect, as always.”, Jeongin commented nonchalantly while unplugging his piano and mic. He meant you and Han, though neither of you were bothered by the comment. It was a running joke; you bore the longest friendship in the group, harmonised near perfectly every practice – how could you not, if practising and playing the guitar together had been everything you’ve busied yourselves with when you’d been younger? Despite having tried to convince the rest of the band that neither you nor Han bore any feelings for the other, nor would fuck to ‘get it out of the system’, as Changbin had so lovingly commented once, the jokes never ended; you had simply grown indifferent to them. You snickered, shooting your best friend a quick look; he winked at you approvingly, turning off the AMP and packing away his fire-red guitar – you followed him, unplugging and turning off everything that needed to be unplugged and turned off, before putting your own black instrument on the designated stand in between Han’s and Changbin’s ones. Lino already waited by the entrance door, bag thrown lazily over his shoulder, a pack of ‘Hi-Lite’s in his hands, one cigarette between his lips. He offered Changbin one when said male reached him by the door, and didn’t bother offering the rest of you any – you didn’t smoke not to damage your voice, Han and Jeongin couldn’t stand the brand the other two men smoked. Han got hold of his bag lying on the old leather sofa and his scattered belongings – headphones, notebook and a pen, a snack he had bought earlier, a pack of his beloved ‘Hope’s – and gave Jeongin a cigarette while catching one between his teeth himself. The bunch of you made it out of the studio – Lino, as the oldest, bore privileges over the key to the studio, locked the room and scurried over to the rest of you as you already made your way to the main building of the University. You weren’t a college band, not officially, though your location of practice was on campus – you had asked Mr. Hwang, your music teacher and head of the music department, if there, by any chance, was a forgotten room the five of you could use. To your surprise he had been most enthusiastic about both your question, and your band in general; allegedly he’d been in one as well when he was younger which had never lead to success, so he took pleasure in encouraging you with your own; his visiting during your practices weren’t a rarity, and the five of you were quite fond – and amused, slightly – of his support.  

“Ji, you have fire?”

The guitarist searched for a lighter in his jeans’ back pocket, handed it to everyone after lighting his own cigarette.

“God, I need this before class.”, Changbin expressed in exaggerated exhaustion, blowing out blue smoke into the hot summer air. His black hair fell over his darker eyes, and you giggled at his comment.

“Do you, now? As if you and Innie will go to class today.”

Han laughed softly at your words, blew out his own puff of smoke while Changbin and Jeongin started to get defensive – a habit they acquired lately, because both of them were on the verge of failing their semesters. You knew they’d skip their lessons anyways.

Lino was the first to bid goodbye, having to walk opposite of the rest of you for his classes. He left saying he’d be back after his hours for another session of practice; the five of you had acquired to practice twice a day, more if the time gave chance. You all saw him off, continuing your journey further down campus. The heaviness of your boots crunched against the pavement beneath your feet, the black of your clothes attracting the burning sun and making you sweat more than it was comfortable; though you were used to it. Changbin and Jeongin separated at last, despite making their way to their classroom they surely wouldn’t have enough self-control to truly sit there for a whole two hours. You teased them about it one last time before they saw you off with curses and middle fingers, and you and Han made your way to your favourite spot on campus; the vending machine right behind the music building.

Ever since you had started college you had come here with Han to get a drink before most of your classes – it surely wasn’t a healthy habit, it was your favourite one, though. You had deemed it a necessity to find a spot which throughout your college years would work as a safe haven against teachers and possible annoying co-students, a spot where you could talk music and gossip and, inherently, everything and nothing, entirely undisturbed. The vending machine didn’t stand far from a huge weeping willow, working perfectly against the summer sun, and it was being refilled only about once a week – it was an old and shabby machine, and you’ve never seen anyone but you two in the proximity of it.

“God, I’m so unmotivated for class today. Wish I could spend your free window with you.”, you expressed in anguish as you and Han reached the dispenser and the shadow of the tree with sweat-laced faces. Han chuckled while plopping down on the bench by the tree trunk, leaning back, eyes closed and played malicious joy writing his features.

“I told you, we should both drop out and focus on the band. I don’t even know if I’ll go to my one class for today.”

Your loose coins clinked soundly in your palm before you threw them into the vending machine, pressing the number two for a classic can of Coca Cola. You huffed out in amusement at Han’s proposal, snickered at his laziness.

“It’s like you wanna fail. You know your mom’s gonna kill you if you change your major again.”, you bickered while taking the cool bottle out from behind the plastic hatch; the cold condensation felt nice against your hot skin, and your mouth watered in anticipation for a freezing drink. “What are you doing with all your free time skipping class, anyway.” Your tone wasn’t condescending, nor was it much lecturing; you’d lie pretending you didn’t care for your best friends’ education and future, though, and his nonchalance towards it was concerning more often than not – you weren’t even sure what his major was at this point, and it worried you that he might not know, either. He did have the talent to become a successful musician, yet the industry had never simply relied on skills; it was luck and appeal and timing as much as all else.

“Well, first of all; duh, I wanna fail. At least I won’t have to study anymore, and my mom won’t be able to tell me I didn’t try.”, he returned with pride you didn’t quite deem appropriate given the context, and you tsked while he made his way from the old bench to the older vending machine, playing with the loose change in his pocket.

“And second, I use all the free time to write songs for the band you’re in, by the way, so you’re welco-”, he traced off, something external catching his attention mid-sentence, something yet unknown to you, and the man went from cocky demeanour to absolute and utter frustration in mere seconds, “No!! No, this is so unfair, they haven’t refilled my fucking root beer yet!!!” His sorrow echoed through the open, and you needed a moment to register his words, the true mundanity and vanity of them before you started laughing at him whole-heartedly. He went to lean against the glass of the vending machine dramatically, a puffed cheek against dirty glass and it mushed his face, driving to humour you further. One hand of his slid down the glass where the empty spot of his favourite drink stood in all its’ pride; it was almost Oscar worthy, and, to take matters further – and to make you laugh some more, you were sure – he topped it off with fake-crying; you almost choked on the Coke you had started drinking already. You had always adored his humour, his ability to bring light-heartedness into all and every situation – you knew he prided himself in the sounds of your laughter, often took jokes far beyond limit, until your stomach pained, and tears smudged your mascara.

“You know, I don’t even feel bad for you. Root beer is fucking disgusting; it’s a sign that you should change your go-to drink.”, the cold, bubbling liquid felt nice against your lips when you took a gulp after your snarky comment, which earned you a snarkier look. You shut up with a last giggle, and watched your friend carefully eyeing the available options for a drink, brows furrowed as though a far tougher decision than it was, lips caught between his teeth in utter – yet playful – seriousness.  

You loved him. Not romantically, never romantically – you cringed at the thought alone as you sat and lay your eyes on him, huffing out in amusement about his seemingly real frustration; yet you loved him. There was no other person dearer to you than him; you’d had your ups and downs as young teens, when hormones had been the only thing ruling your bodies and brains, though you had survived that time, and had been closer than ever afterwards. He was fun; there had never been a boring day if it was him by your side. He didn’t take himself nor others too seriously, viewed the world carelessly, which you had always admired – there’d been days you needed a listening ear, and days where you needed someone to get you out of the static of your own thoughts. Han had always been able to provide both, never not taking you seriously, besides his immaturity, for the lack of a better expression; he had always been the shoulder you cried on after heartbreaks, or fights with your parents, or ulterior and general hopelessness; and he had always been the happiness you craved for right after, his talent to distract you with music or video games or his own banal miseries far more admirable than he’d ever admit. Around him, you bore no filter, and you knew he didn’t either; with him you were human, had always been.

“Guess I have to be basic and take a Coke too, then.”, he tsked as you watched him dial the same number you had after throwing in his share of coins, and you laughed at his comment. His lip piercing was caught between his teeth as he made his way over to you onto the picnic bench, swinging one of his legs over the seat – his large boots always looked too big against his slim body, almost comical; yet it suited him, strangely. His dry, bleached hair fell over his eyes in bangs as he settled in comfortably, sipping his drink with another exaggerated sigh and faked disgust on his features at the loss of his beloved beverage; you scoffed in amusement, taking another big gulp of your soda. While Han enjoyed a free window after practice – and had both the courage and enough lacking willpower to not visit the class he had scheduled right after –, you had to rot away in music class until the five of you were able to meet up again, for afternoon practice; the hours during classes you always spent counting the minutes to be back in the studio, and sometimes the temptation of dropping out and embracing the band full time with Han by your side was so calling, that mid-lesson texts of it, and hopeless, juvenile plans of a music career weren’t a rarity between your best friend and yourself – the guilt of giving up with no solidity beneath your feet yet always took the upper hand, so big plans of bigger stadiums stayed texts, and you continued spending your daily classes in excruciating boredom.

During the couple minutes you had together, right after practice and before your next set of lessons, Han and you talked of everything and nothing. More often than not, it was involving music, his ideas and plans for new songs, possible schedules to practise, mistakes you and he had noticed in the rundown before and needed to correct for the rundown after. Rarely, though not never, both you and him would express doubts or feelings of hopelessness regarding the band and its’ future; another point you were ever comfortable speaking of in the presence of only him. Not because the others wouldn’t understand, or care; they surely would, and you thought they could even be decent listeners and advisers, much to your surprise had you first met them. Yet you preferred to save insecurities for later, when you and Han were in lonesome, could talk undisturbed; neither did you know of the importance the other three bore for the band, nor did you think it a good idea to talk of pointless negativity – ‘Where do we go after college?’, ‘What if the band never really breaks through?’, ‘Do we want it to break through, or are we simply  five friends enjoying music and each other’s presence?’ –; you deemed those thoughts to lead to discouragement to practise and play altogether, let alone keep the motivation should you ever decide to take the professional route. Yet, you could always talk of such fears with Han, for he always shared your worries; though currently, he was rambling about a new song he was planning – one he was allegedly writing specifically for you, and for your voice.

“I’ll show you the song when I’m done, I still have to edit a ton and it’s basically completely unfinished, and…”, a sip from his Coke and he looked at you, curiously, “I know you’re not the most confident in your voice, and the song might be out of our skill range…”, Han watched you listen to him carefully, piercing eyes following his every word, “but I’m writing this song to fit your range and tone perfectly, like- I’m writing it for your voice.”, his hands fiddled with the tin of the can under your gaze, almost nervously, as if confessing something he shouldn’t. His cheeks painted pink, only a shade or two yet you noticed, and he seemed to suddenly blink more than usual; strange. You emptied your Coke in a last gulp and Han’s eyes caught yours before you scoffed, softly.

“It’s unlike you to be so nervous about it. I’m sure it’s gonna be a good song, and I bet we will like it – I know I will; it’s written for me, basically.”, you snickered, and Han merely replied with a choked chuckle.

“I’m not… nervous about the song. I actually think it’s the best I’ve made so far, and, like- I think it’s gonna sound insane live, just… I don’t know. Whatever.”, another chuckle, forced, almost, and he avoided eye contact; very strange, truly.

You watched him carefully, wondered where the sudden insecurities stemmed from. Music, and songwriting in particular were his passions as much as they were yours, yet admittedly, he bore far more talent than you did; you had always admired it rather than growing envious of his skill, so far more confused now at his sudden humbleness.

“Show me the song when you’ve finished writing it, I bet it’s nice. Don’t be weird about it.” You nipped at the can of Coke one last time before throwing your worn-out bag over your shoulder, sighing exasperatedly. “Anyways, I have to hurry now. Don’t want Hwang to scold me in front of everyone for being late again.”

Han mumbled a reply, and you cocked your head at him in curiosity one last time – he wouldn’t leave a nagging thought uncommented, not if it was truly bothering him, though maybe he wouldn’t want to distract you before class. He would surely, you thought, mention whatever was making him nibble at his pierced lip and light another cigarette before you were even out of sight later before practice, and you took a mental note to ask him when you’d see him again. You left your empty can of Coke by the bench – you always allowed Han the pleasure of the deposit money for both his and your drink; he never not returned it by standing you a soda every once in a while – and made your way apart from him, from the cooling shadow, from the freezing drinks inside the dirty vending machine, from the comfort of your best friend – you bid goodbye with a last “See you later!” and disappeared behind the corner towards the music building, not without questioning Han’s last seemingly troubled expression.

☆.☆.☆

You sat behind your shabby, wooden desk in the hot, sweat-scented classroom, dimming out the chattering and gossip all around you with your earphones, scribbling doodles and lyrics into your notebook. Your blue pen materialised hearts and clouds and words into your yellowish piece of paper as you waited for Mr. Hwang to enter the classroom, as you waited for the two hours of boredom to pass as quickly as it was possible – or for your teacher to talk of a subject which could interest you, for that matter.

You furrowed your brows at the verses you were trying to make sense of; you weren’t much a songwriter, and despite Han’s patient teaching for the past couple months and your urge to improve your skill you were far from happy with any recent results. Your texts didn’t seem to carry a red line, context was hard to make sense of; you wondered if you had any talent for songwriting at all, or if you should leave said work to your best friend. You’ve acquired a habit of writing down anything you could think of for the sake of practice, to gather any spark of inspiration in written form, and going over it with Han on later occasion – only few verses and sentences of yours found themselves in a couple of his songs, and though you wished it could be more, he made it fashion to remind you it was already something to be proud of.

The heavy creak of the door and the following footsteps were the reason you stopped the music which blasted in your eardrums before taking out your earphones, the silhouette of your teacher strutting through the now murmuring classroom, whispers which sounded like questions, and a general confusion spread between the students; unbeknownst to you, yet, as you packed away your phone and opened your notebook on last weeks’ notes, before you finally converted your eyes to the front, finally caught a peak of you teacher; though it wasn’t the teacher you’ve expected to walk into the classroom, not Mr. Hwang, and your jaw would have hit the rough wood of your table if you’d had been any slower at gathering yourself. The man – not a stranger, though unseen and unthought of by you for the past five years – made his way into the spacy classroom, brown briefcase in hand, white dress shirt hugging the lines of his muscles, the ones on his arms exposed as he’d rolled up his sleeves. His attire was missing the tie you remembered him in, and, different to five years ago, the two top buttons of his shirt lay open around his chest – not showing inappropriate skin, though enough to tease, almost, to make you drool in your seat. His black dress pants moved with him as he settled behind his desk, briefcase on the table, one watch-adorned wrist making its way into his pants’ pocket leisurely as he looked around the class. He was visibly older, now that you had a good view of him – smile lines deeper, skin more textured, a certain calmness writing his pleasant features –he was just as attractive as you remembered him to be; more so, you’d dare to argue.

“Hi, my name is Mr. Bahng. Professor Hwang suddenly fell ill, unfortunately, and I’ll be his substitute teacher for the time being. I normally don’t teach college classes, but other professors sadly didn’t have the time – I’m well acquainted with Professor Hwang, though, so I agreed to take over his class for a few weeks.”

He was friendly. A charming smile adorned his face, a slight blush played around his nose as he looked around the room, looking at each student for a second or two before locking eyes with the next. For closure, for trust. Then he locked eyes with you, and it felt just like five years ago, when you were fresh eighteen years old, and a bored high school student in your last year before graduation.

.☆.

“I’ve never been so excited for class, oh my god.”

You had sat giddily in your seat, anticipating the arrival of your new music teacher. You had only seen him once so far, last week, when he had freshly relocated to the high school you’d gone to, and had been, quite literally and much to Felix’s misery and irritation, head over heels for the man – not because your friend had borne a crush for you; simply because you’d been utterly annoying with your high school love for your teacher. You’d known your yearning had been futile even back then, had known that Mr. Bahng wasn’t possibly interested in a mere girl who had just turned eighteen, yet you’d been young and in need for fun distraction, for amusement. And if that meant drooling over a young, hot teacher who had been just your type, it seemed, then you couldn’t complain.

Next to you, Felix had huffed in amusement as you kept eyeing the entrance door of the classroom, then the clock on the wall in front of you, then the door again. He had prepped his material for class already, in much contrast to your own entirely empty desk; saved for a piece of paper and a pen borrowed from your dearest high school friend.

“Your crush is getting unhealthy… he’s not gonna fuck you, you know.”

Felix hadn’t been judging, yet his voice had been teasing. You’d shot him a glance, had tsked at him which your friend returned with a mocking impression of you – fluttering eye-lids, airy lashes, a dumb-ish smile adorning his face.

“I know he’s not gonna fuck me… that’s not the point, though. Class is boring, and you take your academics way too serious to distract me from it.”, you’d retorted sarcastically, which Felix had accepted with a light-hearted scoff, going back to his notes from last week. You hadn’t been wrong; he wanted to get into college, and with good grades preferably. He’d known you had other priorities; he’d respected, enjoyed, even, your passion for music, and you'd always have the talent for it. The two of you had always been inherently different, though it had never bothered your friendship in the slightest.

Just as Felix had been about to retort with a snarky comment – or another far too accurate impression of your behaviour whenever Mr. Bahng was around – the door to the classroom had opened, and your music teacher had walked in – dress shirt buttoned up all the way, sleeves rolled down even in the hot weather, a careful tie adorning his fit. There’d been fewer lines of muscle back then, though they had been prominent enough to drive your teenage mind utterly insane. Your eyes had been glued onto him as he had welcomed the class, and Felix had struggled containing his laughter; you had been bashing your eyes at him, and you had been wearing a stupid smile around your lips at a mere look at him, just like your friend had mocked about earlier – and you had been either unaware of it, or you hadn’t been bothered enough to care.

You had eyed your teacher the entire lesson, and as much as Felix had wanted to stay focused, he had giggled and laughed at you, amused at your heart-eyes for someone so entirely unattainable. More often than once you had been in need to copy Felix’s notes because your thoughts – and eyes – had been elsewhere than the board, and more often than not Felix had pretended to stop helping you out in class any further, until you’d gotten over your crush; only in light hearted manner, though, because he couldn’t truly deny you of his help, would have felt far too bad to. Though, Felix had always admired your self-reflection in the matter of Mr. Bahng – there hadn’t been one incident in which you’d been unaware of the hopelessness and the unattainability your one-sided love presented – much to his dismay, because during free windows you would complain about it to no end –; and altogether, you had never spoken of love, in the first place. It had been butterflies, distraction from lessons, stupidity and immaturity – and you had always been aware of it; had always been aware of the impossibility.

.☆.

“Oh! And…Y/N, right? It’s nice to see some familiar faces!”

While you had been deep in thought, eyes wide and mouth agape – looking but a deer caught in the headlights, and upon the realisation of your expression you grew bashful – Mr. Bahng had named few students he remembered teaching back in school, happy some chose to follow the musical path before he started with the class, not lingering on you for a second longer after you nodded and smiled in approval; it almost frustrated you, his lack of attention to you – though anything else would have been strange, admittedly.

He had changed almost tangibly, though not by a lot, and into a direction far more pleasant than you'd had dared to expect. There was a change to his behaviour; when you had first seen him teach, he had been nervous, clammy; despite never in loss of control over the class he had clearly not borne much faith for his skills as a teacher yet. Now, standing before you in all his glory, black hair carefully slicked back in purposefully messy waves, constant lazy smile painting his features, he was more confident, far more secure in himself. It made sense; he’d been a fresh teacher five years ago, when he had walked into your classroom in uncertainty, so the gained experience surely did his practice advantage. He spoke with ease – about what, you weren’t quite sure –, each of his word dancing past his lips in serious and clear, yet laid-back manner, his writing on the board as messy as you remembered it, and more cursive now, his eyes finding home on every student sitting in class for a few moments before he moved on; he wasn’t pushing, yet he lured you into trusting him, into listening to his lesson – if you hadn’t been far more interested in his alternative qualities.

Mr. Bahng had always been a good teacher – though it had barely been the quality you liked about him most. You weren’t realising the pain your teeth caused your lips while you were looking at him, melting at the sight you had entirely forgotten over the past years. It was embarrassing, the way your eyes scanned the outline of his shoulders straining against his white shirt when he stretched to write on the board, how they followed the lines of his arm, the tensing of the muscles there when he applied pressure to the charcoal. You watched his hands – veinier than you remembered – as he erased older writings with a wet sponge; the water dripping down his skin felt far more erotic than it should, and, as though teasing on purpose, he got rid of the fantasy far too quick with a simple tap of a towel, leaving his hands dry, and you hot and bothered.

It was embarrassing, the way you couldn’t get your eyes off the curve of his back, and how the tucked-in button-down hugged around his torso, the slimness of his waist in contrast to his shoulders. He presented himself so very matter-of-factly before a class not his own, and it didn’t leave you cold – the subtle dominance, the care he radiated got you squirming in your seat, fiddling with your pen. The two hours you usually spent listening and taking notes were spent in utter awe at the man, in fantasising – you suddenly wished to be kissing down his chiselled jaw which tensed with every of his word, dreamt of licking down the vein on his neck which appeared whenever he turned his head to his right. His hands danced upon your body in your imagination, pressing you against his table, hovering over you and engulfing you whole, sending shivers down your spine with every kiss he granted upon your neck, with every bite he teased against your skin –

You coughed, without much purpose but it tore you out of your thoughts, and you straightened your back to sit up-right in your chair. You grew bashful at yourself, your imagination and the wet patch between your legs; you wouldn’t have expected the man to have the same effect on you as five years ago, and if you truly thought about it, it was quite embarrassing. You hadn’t even thought about your high school music teacher the moment you had graduated, had forgotten him entirely; now you were sitting in his class again years later, as though freshly eighteen anew, a dumb student yearning after a far older man; only now, you noticed as you watched him talk, the circumstances were far different – far more to your advantage. Technically, Mr. Bahng wasn’t your teacher anymore; he was teaching you, though you doubted it to count. He’d be gone again in a few weeks, when Professor Hwang felt better – so, you convinced yourself, he wasn’t your teacher, not technically. The age difference had stayed the same, quite obviously; though now it didn’t seem to quite bother you, not anymore – you’ve been with guys his age, and not rarely. Now you were older, and your crush of far better solidity, realer, almost; you could have him, could manage to wrap him around your fingers. The chances were far better. You weren’t, in fact, freshly eighteen anymore, nor were you a dumb student; and you bagged experience. It wasn’t of advantage to you that he remembered you from school – there was a risk you had stayed a student in his memory, young and immature and far too involved into a music teacher, though you didn’t think that would stand in your way; Mr. Bahng would be easy prey, surely. He wasn’t an impossibility anymore, he was there and real, easy to seduce.

“Let’s see… Y/N, you know the answer? You look sort of distracted.”

You hadn’t much realised the shameful path of your thoughts until the very man you had been sinfully thinking about had started speaking to you himself; you had, in fact, been distracted, and, much to your embarrassment, did neither know the answer nor were you aware of the question he had asked, altogether. You blushed, apologised bashfully – he simply continued with an understanding hum and a quick, kind gaze your direction, before picking another student to answer his question; you needed him, as soon as you could have him.

You’d be ashamed of your fantasising and longing, if it had been under different circumstances; though expectantly, you weren’t at all surprised about the tension flooding in the pit of your stomach at the sight of Mr. Bahng, or the way your thighs rubbed together when his eyes scanned yours for mere seconds; it had been ages since you’ve last been intimate with anyone, and your body was urging for closure, for contact and touch – it wasn’t an absurdity that the man who had caused many sleepless nights prior was now the culprit of a similar outcome.

You picked up where you had last stopped your train of thought; you could seduce him. Surely, if you craved intimacy and closure there were far easier men to aim for – but where would be the fun in that, truly? You had always liked a challenge; you had always liked him. And though your skills hadn’t been of much use lately, you believed yourself to have the charm – there wasn’t anything speaking against your plan, if you thought about it. If you disregarded the morality of the situation, that was.

The two hours of boredom flew past you today. Your notebook was entirely empty; you already dreaded having to find someone ready to lend you their notes of the lesson, though you cared only little while you watched student by student disappearing into their next lessons after Mr. Bahng had dismissed the class, each student opening the opportunity of talking to your teacher further and further. You took your time with your own belongings, dragging out the process of packing away your paper and pen, searching around in your bag for your headphones though it wasn’t at all necessary as they lay right atop your other stuff, only standing up when the last student left the hot classroom; and you found yourself alone with Mr. Bahng. He smiled up at you kind and unknowing as you made your way up to his desk, eyes not much lingering on you as he continued collecting his own materials and leaving the desk ready for the next professor; only when your smiling figure hovered over his own across the desk he looked up at you from beneath his lashes, his seating position painting the illusion of curious puppy eyes – he was far more attractive in the close up, and excitement, a sense of anticipation filled the entirety of your chest.

“Y/N, hello! Do you… need help with anything?”

You stood and stared; you hadn’t even thought of things to talk about with him, hadn’t prepared a pretentious question that could work as a possible opener – suddenly you grew embarrassed, bashful. You felt stupid under his gaze; what the hell were you doing?

“Oh, no… I just wanted to say hi! I haven’t seen you in ages… are you doing alright? Are you still teaching in *insert name of school*?”

Not bad, you thought, though you cringed at yourself; you wondered where all the previous confidence went the moment you stood before the man. The effect he had on you was far too embarrassing. You were far too old to feel like a teenager in love.

The teacher cocked his head at you, brows raised; he hadn’t expected the question, hadn’t anticipated small talk, seemingly. Yet he huffed out in amusement after blinking at you for a few seconds, and your heartbeat against the bones in your chest was deafening. You hoped he couldn’t hear it.

“Uh, yeah, it has been a while… I didn’t expect to see you here, to be honest.”, he snickered, stood and continued packing his stuff. “You were… never really good in my class. I never knew you had an interest in music.” Seemingly harsh words though it was a light-hearted comment as he ended it in a laugh, and you joined his amusement. You were sure you were blushing, though you decided to ignore it.

“Yeah… I never had an interest in school, you know. I always liked music, though. I just prefer listening to and making it, instead of… just learning about it.” Your voice sounded smoother now; he was easy to talk to, kind, funny. He gave you a quick look before continuing collecting his variation of pens and a last notebook, a smirk dancing around his lips – god, you needed him.

Mr. Bahng hummed approvingly at your words, locking eyes with you after snapping in the locks of his briefcase. A smile and a cocked head, and you bashed your lashes at him; just like Felix had mocked five years ago. What were you doing, truly?

“Making it? You’re a songwriter?”

The genuine interest in his voice made you light-headed, stole every thought from you. His dark eyes pierced through your own, unmoving and sure, and you almost trembled under his gaze; if you wanted to get anywhere with him, you needed to channel the charm you thought you acquired, and grow resistance against the giddiness he caused in the pit of your stomach. Your current attempts were all but miserable.

“Uhh, not really. Not yet, that is. I’m... my friends and I are in a band, though. We’re practising here on campus.”

You tried to sound as laid-back as possible, watched his reaction carefully; you enjoyed being able to look at him to your desires, eyes travelling his features up and down, growing weaker any time you passed his plush lips he couldn’t seem to stop wetting with his tongue, or his jaw which tensed with every word he spoke. He was as irresistible as you remembered him to be, and you needed to learn to have the same effect on him. You had a time limit after all; Professor Hwang wouldn’t be sick forever.

His brows raised the moment he heard the word ‘band’ – his mouth formed a silent ‘ah’, and your body heated up at the anticipation of his next words; he was interested in you now, and you deemed that to be of advantage to you.

“In a band, huh?”, he huffed in reminiscent amusement, eyes growing softer, “I love that. I’m jealous, actually. My friends and I had always been so busy in college, but making music together has kinda always been… a dream, you could say. If I can be so honest.”, his cheeks blushed at the sudden confession, the tips of his ears reddening; he looked even more insatiable when flustered.

The man swung his briefcase over his shoulder; the conversation was obviously coming to an end, yet you felt as though you couldn’t let it. You didn’t expect to fuck him right then and there, today, to succeed with your plan in the short span of ten minutes – yet you needed more of a lead than you currently had.

“Well, you’re never too old to start. Except, you know, you’re busy with… a wife and kids, or whatever.”, you laughed at your own joke, eyeing him curiously; and the man didn’t join your amusement. His smile drooped, the creases between his brows deepened; and only now you noticed the shimmering gold band around his left ring finger. Undeniably, he did have a wife, and kids possibly; his reaction and the ring spoke for themselves. Yet, undeniably also, and much to your contentment – he didn’t seem to be on good foot with the subject. As the pair of you continued making your way to the door of the classroom you apologised upon having noticed his silence and sudden clamminess, yet, internally, didn’t regret your joke in the slightest; any form of closure and trust you could tickle out of him would work best for you in the long run. You flinched at your own sadism and the utter lack of remorse you felt at your planning. Though, there wasn’t any reason yet to feel guilty; as of now, and as far as everyone could be concerned, you were a student talking to a substitute teacher you’d known from high school. Whatever developed would be as much in your hands as it would be in his own; after all, no matter what your ultimate plan would be, Mr. Bahng would need to be the one accepting or dismissing your approaches. So really, no matter how you viewed the situation, you couldn’t be the villain in the picture. Not really.

“No, no, don’t worry. We’re just… my wife and I had been hitting rough patches lately, for some time. Nothing crazy, just- typical marriage stuff. Not that it is of any interest to you.” Flustered again, his face changing into a light tone of pink, and he hid behind the classroom door he held open for you. 'Rough patches. Some time now.' – his words shouldn’t fill you with the excitement they did, and for only a second you wondered if your plan – dumb, now that you truly thought about it – was futile, immature altogether. You’d be a homewrecker, you’d be moving in morally grey area, you’d get yourself into a messy situation which would distract you from music and the band if you let it get to you; though then you watched the teacher exit the classroom behind you, a hand in his pocket to fish out his keys, warm and curious eyes on you as he locked the door – any doubt ceased to exist that very moment and having the man fall for you over the next couple weeks materialised as a plan in your path of thoughts again after you bid goodbye, the pit of your stomach ripe with giddiness as you hurried to the studio; Han would die hearing the news.

☆.☆.☆

When you opened the door to the studio the soft vibrato of an electric guitar filled your senses; right before Lino’s classes start, he hands the key over to Han, to let him use the studio in his free windows while waiting for the rest of you. You knew the stuffy room was Han’s favourite place to be creative in, to use for writing songs and practice whenever the five of you couldn’t get together. You would always be the first to meet him right after your music classes, the others arriving about half an hour later – though today you took longer, so you didn’t have much time to gush about your news.

“Hi! You’re late today. Did Hwang keep you?”

As soon as Han had heard the door open his eyes had searched for your figure, and the sounds of his guitar died into nothingness. He took his instrument off – the worn-out fabric having left a visible red mark on the soft skin of his neck – and plopped down on the sofa positioned in a corner of the room, right beside the set-up of instruments. He chewed on a piece of gum, lounging onto the old brown leather after placing his guitar on its’ standee; he hadn’t yet noticed the buzz you radiated as you closed the door behind you and made home in the dusty studio, throwing your rucksack against the sofa carelessly. Without awaiting an answer from you, Han started talking mindlessly, scrolling through his phone in the process.

“I actually thought we could practise this new song I finished earlier. I could play it for you when everyone’s here and go over it all. It’s not the one I was telling you about befo-“

“Wait, wait, wait, I need to tell you something. Urgent. Don’t need the others to know.”

Your voice cut off his, and Han’s eyes lost the screen of his phone now. He converted them to you, perplexed; finally, he noticed the blush around your cheeks and neck, the mischievous sparkle in your eyes, the smirk on your lips – you had been up to no good. You stood against the backrest of the sofa, watched him sit up a bit to look at you properly. His eyes were curious, his phone gone in his jeans’ pocket again, his brows slightly furrowed; the look in your eyes was almost scary, your hovering body over his own near bone-chilling.

“Do you remember Mr. Bahng.”, your voice was almost trembling, and he thought to see stars in your eyes at the sound of the name, whereas his heart stumbled in its rhythmical beating at it and calmed only seconds later. The tempo had increased though, and he felt the heavy muscle pump against the bones of his rib cage in silent fear of your next words. He looked at you wordlessly, speechless.

“My high school music teacher.” Your face emitted the same excitement and giddiness as it did when you talked of your many celebrity crushes, in anticipation of something Han wasn’t even sure of, nor wanted to know. You must have taken Han’s silence for memory loss, though he surely didn’t need the explanation.

Mr. Bahng; the name couldn’t not ring a bell. Though the both of you had never gone to the same school, there hadn’t been a single Wednesday in which Han hadn’t been victim to your gushing and thirsting over a man almost double your age, and the whining about the unfairness of the situation – if you’d been born just a little later, or Mr. Bahng just a little earlier you would have had a chance to get into his pants, yet you’d been left to only yearn for him from behind your desk, every week anew, a hopeless teen in a bad romance movie. Han did remember your high school music teacher; though he couldn’t make sense of the importance of him now. And he was scared to find out about it.

After his further silence you continued, Han’s face unchanged.

“Hwang is ill, and Mr. Bahng is gonna be my substitute teacher for a couple weeks. He’s so hot actually... I forgot how hot he was.”, excitement in your voice, and suddenly words gushed out of you in a waterfall, “He like- I didn’t expect him to walk in at all and then he suddenly stood there at the desk and he remembered me and he got so much hotter and like- I sat there and I felt like I was in school again but I realised I’m not in school anymore and am way older now so the age difference isn’t that weird anymore, you know?” Han almost hadn’t caught the question, realised too late that you expected him to say something, anything. Wrongly so, because he was still processing your words. You were excited, far too much for his taste, though he wasn’t sure why he despised the anticipation in your voice when you talked about your teacher. And, besides; ‘age difference’? ‘Not weird anymore’? He wouldn’t be able to answer even if he wanted to, because he couldn’t find any correlation in your words. When Han didn’t make a sound after a whole twenty seconds, when he kept looking at you with big, questioning eyes and a mouth agape you sucked in your breath, stepped closer to the backrest of the sofa. “Do you know what that means!?”

That sparkle in your eyes again, and Han did, in fact, not know what any of your words meant – still his heart sank, his gut felt as though having taken a punch. He wasn’t expecting anything he’d be excited to hear.

“I can fuck him now.”

The boy choked on his piece of gum, coughing in reaction to your words – his eyes watered, his palm beat against his chest in order to get rid of the sting in his throat, to fill his lungs with proper oxygen again. He hadn’t expected your words; and yet internally, he must have. His body had reacted before you had declared your news; when you had first mentioned your teacher. The name itself sent a set of shivers down Han’s entire body. The absurd confession of wanting – and planning, apparently – to fuck said teacher was even worse. A feeling he couldn’t quite explain found home in his chest, in the pit of his stomach, in the veins pumping right beneath his skin. His hands felt clammy, far too sweaty. What was that reaction? It’s not like he was jealous, he couldn’t be; your words couldn’t make sense to him, though, sounded utterly wrong. Fucking? Your teacher? It wasn’t like you.

“That’s insane. He’s your teacher.”, Han retorted after far too many moments of silence in which you had nothing but stared at him, expectantly. Han reciprocated your gaze with an emotion in his eyes that caused you to furrow your brows; it wasn’t agony, per se, but it was more than worry. It confused you.

“Well, he’s not really. He’s only here for a couple weeks, it doesn’t count.” You made your way over to take a seat next to Han, shoving his legs to the side to make room. He let you, feet flapping off it without resistance, the heaviness of his boots against the wooden floor echoing through the room; the strange expression in his eyes deepened, and it was too intense for you to keep looking.

“That’s still… he’s still a teacher. Like, he’s in a power position, you can’t- you can’t just fuck him. That’s insane.”, Han’s voice was far too agitated for your liking. “And besides, I doubt he’d fuck you. You’re just, like- a student. What’s in there for him except the loss of his job.” He didn’t look you in the eyes while talking – a rip in the old leather sofa was far more interesting to him suddenly, and his teeth nibbled on the silver metal of his piercing. The fingers in his lap fiddled; he was too nervous, too upset and it angered you.

Your head snapped at him; you wouldn’t have expected him to be so against the idea. Maybe you had been dumb, after all. Could Mr. Bahng lose his job? Have you been delusional, too enamoured by his looks you had forgotten over the past five years and influenced by the lack, the drought of any recent intimacy? But then again; Han’s reaction enraged you. It felt like jealousy, far less like the worry you would have understood. And you couldn’t make sense why it did.

“First of all, don’t act all high and mighty when I know you’d happily sleep with like half your current professors if you’d be given the chance – the only thing you ever tell me about class is how good Mrs. Yoo's ass looks in the skirts she’s wearing.”, your voice sounded loud through the room; not truly angry, but defending, maybe. You were too stubborn to admit the stupid plan was all but immature; and you despised that Han wasn’t as excited as you had been. His behaviour ticked you off; it didn’t occur often that the both of you weren’t on the same page about something.

“And besides, maybe Mr. Bahng is horny for me, too. His marriage is shit, as much as I know, so he might- “

“Marriage?! Y/N, don’t tell me you’re serious?” Han’s voice vibrating through the studio made you flinch in your seat, and you looked at him, eyes wide and brows scrunched into one thin line. You knew where he was coming from; but he acted differently altogether. You knew he wouldn’t be in one boat with you about the marriage bit, but you hadn’t imagined him to react this way, throughout the entire conversation; he was jealous, and you had never seen him this way. You couldn’t wrap your mind around it, and the irritation over it caused your head to ache.

“Well, I am serious. Just because you can’t get laid doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun with someone I’ve had a crush on since forever, now that the opportunity is there. Besides, I haven’t even fucked him yet, so get your head out of your ass.”

Your words were harsh, and you regretted them the moment they had materialised in the stuffy room. The studio tensed, your bodies did; and you stayed silent. You didn’t apologise; your stubbornness wouldn’t let you. Additionally, you didn’t even believe to be in the wrong, not entirely. Sure, you were moving in morally grey areas, and you had hit a sensitive spot within your friend; but you hadn’t lied, and he knew it as much as you did. Yet he only kept looking at you, for two seconds, for six, for ten; with every second you grew more and more bashful under his gaze, with every passing second the words you’d said sunk into his brain, embedded there. Until he truly grasped them a whole of twenty seconds later; the fact you were ready to screw your teacher, the fact you’d thought Han would have been excited about the news, the fact you wouldn’t apologise now or rethink your plan in the several moments he was granting you stabbed a wound into his fastening heart. A wound the motive of which he wasn’t all too sure about, yet it felt deeper than he’d anticipated it to. You stayed silent and he stayed looking at you; until he couldn’t bear holding your gaze anymore.

“I need to go out for a smoke.”

The guitarist got up, almost tripped over the dirty carpet under the sofa as he made his way out of the studio. You were fuming, felt guilty, felt bad; you were 22 years old; how could you still fight with Han as though you were both mere teenagers? How could you continue being so very stubborn, believe with so much conviction to still be in the right?

Han didn’t get the chance to open the door to the studio; before his hand could reach for the door handle Lino walked in with the rest of your bandmates, all chatting and quarrelling about something unknown – and, in your current state, uninteresting – to you, before they all fell silent at the sight of the both of you; Han’s head hung low, the usual excitement when everyone arrived absent, you sitting in the corner on the sofa with crossed arms and a look in your face which nothing but scared the rest. Changbin looked from Han to you and back to Han again while Lino and Jeongin made their way inside – slowly and quietly – to set up their instruments; not without questioning looks in their faces. The tension in the room was tangible, and the silence between the two of you was unusual, so you didn’t blame them for their sudden bashfulness.

“Yo, did you two fight? You look beaten up man.”, Changbin expressed with a palm to Han’s shoulder. You ignored his question, got up from the sofa to set up your guitar. You would get it over with practice, and see Han again tomorrow; everything would be settled by then, as always. You would talk again as though nothing happened, if you only survived today.

“It’s nothing, just need to get out for a smoke.” Han’s voice not convincing and to make matters worse, he shoved Changbin’s hand off, and the elder looked at the others with confusion-written eyes when Han left the studio without another word. All three of them looked at you then, wordlessly; though you continued setting up your instrument, throwing the leather band over your neck, plugging the cable into the AMP before turning it on, and soft vibratos halled through the room as you started tuning your guitar. None of them said a word, neither did you; you didn’t as much as look at them. Maybe you weren’t all that grown-up, far more immature than you believed yourself to be. Maybe the idea with Mr. Bahng was stupid, and Han had been right entirely; and the fight for nothing, inherently. It wouldn’t be the first time your ego was too big for your wrongdoings to be visible to yourself – though, in the heat of the moment and in your anger, you didn’t want to admit it to yourself, so you continued sulking, until Jeongin declared to go out for a smoke as well, and the others agreed to join him; leaving you in the studio by yourself, alone with your thoughts – you were thankful for it, if they’ve left on purpose or not.

Han was in the wrong, you thought. Not that you were entirely in the right, either; but he had overreacted, surely. Mr. Bahng wasn’t really your teacher – he wouldn’t lose his job if he fucked you, not if no one caught you until he was gone again. And that was only a matter of weeks; you weren’t sure how long it would take to persuade him – if it would work at all –, so, for all you cared he could be gone before you caught the chance of getting into his pants. You remembered your previous train of thought, and Han’s words; if there was nothing in there for Mr. Bahng, the situation would dissolve, anyways. Eventually, it was up to him if he’d accept your seducing or not – you would simply open the opportunity, everything else wasn’t in your hands anymore. The marriage was the only thing you felt worse about after having talked to Han. You felt guiltier now, were aware that you shouldn’t pursue a married man; and yet, again, you remembered your thoughts you had brewed on when you’d sat in the classroom. If Mr. Bahng’s relationship was so great and worth working on, he would shut out your attempts. He would pretend not to notice your flirting – however you would you didn’t know yet – or he would shut you off clearly, verbally. You would only offer yourself; the rest would be up to him.

It was your stubbornness, surely, and maybe you should simply sleep over your thoughts for a night, but no matter from which perspective you looked at the situation, you couldn’t truly feel guilty. Or maybe you didn’t want to – whatever the reason was, though, giddiness filled your insides again at the thought of next weeks’ class and the possible start of your attempts; until then Han and you would laugh about your fight, and he’d be as excited as you were.

Outside, Han was puffing blue smoke into the scorching air. Changbin and Jeongin talked of something he didn’t pay attention to, Lino eyed him occasionally, which he didn’t notice; neither of them talked to him after he had shut off the question if he was fine with a voice that led them to understand he wasn’t really, but wasn’t in the mood to talk about it, either. He was thankful they didn’t push him, that they acted indifferent.

It’s not like he was jealous – he was simply being a good friend to you. Who knew what kind of trouble you would find yourself in if you fucked your teacher; surely, he was only being caring, prioritizing your well-being. The stinging pain in his heart when he remembered your excitement he chose to ignore, and the insides of his stomach flipping and squeezing together in agony at your carelessness about his reaction, about the entire situation he couldn’t quite interpret, so he chose to ignore that, too. Because if he thought about it too much, confusion and perplexity formed his entire being; confusion about his own reaction, perplexity about the fact he had expected to be excited with you but couldn’t be, physically. As though something was holding him back from feeling happiness about your own, when it involved another. He was angry, he was irritated with himself; atop all, he hated fighting with you, deeply. You were the one person he shouldn’t fight with, ever, the one anchor in his life. If things were bumpy with you, everything else felt out of balance.

“C’mon, let’s practice.”

Han hadn’t noticed how the others had grinded their cigarettes with the soles of their shoes, and with a pat to his shoulder Changbin entered the studio first, followed by Jeongin, then by Lino; who didn’t go in without a last concerned look at his younger friend who was eyeing the asphalt beneath his feet. Han almost didn’t want to go in, didn’t want to face you – he feared his bodily reactions if he happened to see you, he feared to feel the sting in his heart again, the one he found so hard to understand, to name. He threw his cigarette on the ground, tapped out the burning, orange blaze with the pad of his boot. He would get over with practice; tomorrow you and him would be back to the old same again.

taglist: @es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut @wolfennracha @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky @katsukis1wife @binniesbang @astraystayyh @chrizzztopherbang @qtieskz @rylea08 @miss-fallon @sikebishes @h0n3yj4y @lashaemorow

[thefaithfulwriter1]

𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐏𝐏 || MASTERLIST

𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐏𝐏 | ❝ Not really sure how to feel about it. Something in the way you move. Makes me feel like I can't live without you. It takes me all the way. I want you to stay. ❞ - Rihanna & Mikky Ekko

Summary - When love is true, distances doesn't matter. That was something she read somewhere from the internet. It proves to be true though when she meets two handsome men on a dating app called Cupid Matchmaker App. Two men she never thought would notice her even on a simple dating app. The three soon embark on a journey together finding love in each other, through texting, video calls, calls, and then finally meeting.

Pairing - Taehyung x Fem!Reader x Jungkook

Alternative Universe - Normal Life, Social Media (Sort Of), Tattoo Artist

Warnings - Fluff, Angst, Semi Smut, Language, Mention of Past Sexual Abuse, Poly. Relationship, MxM, MxMxF, FxM, May Add If Needed

Main Characters - 𝐘/𝐧 𝐋/𝐧 - The Shy Painter / Artist, 𝐓𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠 -Tattoo Artist, 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤 - Tattoo Artist, 𝐀𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐭 & 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 - 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧 - The Owner of Tattoo shop, 𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐤𝐣𝐢𝐧 - The Chef, 𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢 - The Musician, 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤 - The Dance Instructor / Piercer, 𝐉𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧 - Dance Instructor / Tattoo Artist, 𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬 - (Nina Dobrev -Y/n's Best friend) - Florist, 𝐓𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 (Kat Graham - Elena's Girlfriend/ Y/n's Friend) - Photographer

𝟎𝟏 || 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐏𝐏

𝟎𝟐 || 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎 & 𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄

𝟎𝟑 || 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐅, 𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆, & 𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒

★★ᵖᵉⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ...★★

[clippy]

How did you become so interested in iasw? I’m genuinely curious and I would love to learn more about it! Also, what’s so special about… 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐂 𝐋 𝐎 𝐂 𝐊 .

Would you believe me if I said it was literally an accident LOL...

Like okay. I grew up going to WDW and Disneyland (as well as other theme parks but those were the main two; my dad grew up going to WDW so the obsession has spanned generations I guess lmao) small world was always a must-do, but my main theme park interests as a kid lied within everything Epcot-related (and it still does)

Anyway, my last trip to WDW prior to getting the Disney parks as a special interest was in 2014. I went with my high school band and it was kind of a whole thing (high school drama shit + spring break week + having to do performances in band) so we didn't get the most park time possible. We wound up skipping small world which makes me Wonder if this interest would have been kick started sooner if we didn't skip it. But anyway. Fast forward to 2018. I am visiting my friend (and now roommate) who is watching a bunch of animatronic and theme park videos and I, a clueless man, decided to watch with her and it literally awoke a sleeper cell in my brain or something because I've been *nonstop* obsessed ever since 🧍

Like literally during that session of watching videos I designed my objecthead version of Clockboy. My life has not known peace ever sense, and tbh has drastically been altered (I'll get into that later)

But yeah the Autism(TM) made me have an insatiable hunger for knowledge about everything small world-related... I still don't know EVERYTHING about it, as there are lots of variations and history, etc. involving the installments of the attraction outside of Disneyland, but my main focus is the original world's fair & Disneyland version of the attraction (since they're the same thing... Mostly) as well as IASW facades in general...

There are tons of people who have equally as niche interests within the attraction's history which I think is SO cool. Like the fact that this nearly 60 year old ride has enough meat on its bones to have whole sub-groups of what people like about it is endearing

The history about it is what has drawn me into it (aside from the funny clock) because it almost didn't happen! There was a near missed connection between a Pepsi exec and Walt Disney himself that, had that not happened, we wouldn't have gotten the ride at all. I don't want to relay the entire history here (the Imagineering Story & Behind the Attraction episodes about the world's fair attractions get into it, as well as a plethora of YouTube videos documenting the ride), but that story about the beginnings of it is so dear to me, and I can't explain why.

But anyway, since my primary focus is the original attraction and facades, I've done some reading about imagineers Mary Blair and Rolly Crump, who have become two of my favorite visual artists and large inspirations for me. Crump has a few books and interviews out that have been interesting to read, but admittedly I've had a hard time finding firsthand accounts from Blair herself. I'm sure some art out there but finding them has been tricky since I don't get a lot of time to do research in general (the stuff by Crump was all found on accident, and he also had the benefit of being alive until 2023 so getting firsthand accounts from him was easier)

Otherwise I am just... Constantly googling stuff and looking for old pictures and merchandise related to IASW. It gets me a lot of answers, surprisingly. I go to Disneyland at least once a month to go ride it and visit my boy.

Still not entirely sure WHY my brain fixated on IASW and the clock specifically, but that's just the hand I was dealt I guess 🤷 don't get me wrong, I still love Epcot stuff and have other silly theme park guys I love (RX-24.... 🥺) but the small world clock has such a stronghold on my brain and I genuinely don't think he's leaving any time soon LOL

It's so funny to me because 6 years ago, I would never have guessed this would have been my next special interest. I was working at a job I liked decently enough. I was still dropped out of school and had no urge to go back, and I was considering moving to Seattle... But now I work in a theme park doing a job I never saw myself having (which is fine, I like my job!), I'm back in school (pursuing a degree I hope I can spin into a career in theme park design 🤞), and I live in California now. Wild how that happens.

The small world clock may not be special to most people (I mean, a lot of people DO like him, I see tons of people taking photos in front of small world with him as the backdrop!) but he is extremely special to me. I treasure him so so so much, and do genuinely think my life has been better with him in it... It's silly that a funny clock face has done So Much to my brain and life but :'-) I love him so it's okay!

Anyway sorry that this is long and sappy LOL, you happened to ask this close to the 6 year anniversary of me getting into small world (it's on March 31 to be exact 😊) so it made me reflect a bit lol

TL;DR sources for more IASW info:

The Imagineering Story Episode 1: The Happiest Place on Earth (1964-1965 New York World's Fair stuff is about 35 min in) -- on Disney+

Behind the Attraction Episode 8: "it's a small world" -- on Disney+

"it's kind of a cute story" by Rolly Crump (interviews; written down by Jeff Heimbuch)

Defunctland's 1964-1965 NYWF video talks about it a decent amount if I remember right

any pictorial souvenir guides about the attraction (currently, and slowly, working on scanning mine in, and will share them once I do, but they're up on eBay a lot if you collect that sort of thing)

Sorry I don't have 🏴‍☠️ links for the D+ stuff or the book but I currently don't have the spoons to search for them

[detectivelawlietryuuzaki]

𝐋 𝐪𝐮𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 👾

You can watch more videos on my TikTok channel LadyMaria91 🙌❤️

[ocean-liners]

𝐇 𝐎 𝐓 𝐄 𝐋   𝐐 𝐔 𝐄 𝐄 𝐍   𝐌 𝐀 𝐑 𝐘   - Vaporwave mix + Video

[cynicalclassicist]

Their Tumblr has gone down, but this page with links to medieval texts is still up!

[anggaexyz]

🥷🥷🥷 𝓐𝓷𝓰𝓰𝓪 3:) ︻╦̵̵͇̿̿̿̿╤────™✫✰✫ 𝓔𝔁𝔂𝔃 ☯️ ✰✰✰ ℳℛ ACCOUNT SNACKVIDIO INDONESIA #JadiBagianKomik #Repost #animasi #hatakekakashi #fyp @𝟔𝟎𝟏 ₦ł₦ℑ₳(O150000515896084) @🦚 ¥€π| [ 999 ]🦚🇲🇨(O150000584666049) @🧞🅷🆂🅱 ꧁𝐀𝐝𝐲_𝐀𝐧a꧂🔥𝐅.𝐒.𝐆🔥(O150000581176151) @🦋🦋🦋(O150001285181190) @🥂 🔰💫༓☾ FTV ☽༓💫🔰(O150000604162042) @🤴🏻ˡᵉᵃᵈ 𝗝ส𝐋𝐔尺 𝐋ส𝗻𝕘iT 🌅(O150000464471259) @🚍𝔾𝔽ℝ🚍𝗭𝗲𝗳𝗿𝗶 𝗬𝘂𝗹𝗶𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗼(O150000621598180) @🔫（SKF ）＠L'!🈲SnipeR'z🔫(O150000600913159) 🥷🥷🥷https://sck.io/p/MdRxoX8q

Ada video seru, cek sekarang juga! https://sck.io/p/MdRxoX8q

[landryluvbot]

about this girl named anna˚｡⋆ ༊ .˚｡⋆🍒

𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐋. ✮ 🇧🇷

.˚｡⋆ hi, my name is anna laura ! u can call me anna. im 18 ; born in october 2004 in a small town in brazil, so... i'm latina ! my personality type is intp like alice in wonderland. can we be moots? she/they pronouns .˚｡⋆

| likes : lana del rey. horror movies. the neighbourhood. video game. books. marvel and DC. twilight saga. the last of us game. captain marvel. coraline. the sandman. amber freeman and billy loomis my favs. henry cavill. star wars. hotd and got. jasper hale. bella swan. ethan landry. dogs and cats. write. winter. dreamcatcher. lara croft. abby and ellie. rain sound. musics . . . <3

| dislikes : many things!

[jadisulit]

undefined

🪘 some unfiltered video from

𝐈 𝐋 𝐎 𝐂 𝐎 𝐒   𝐍 𝐎 𝐑 𝐓 𝐄   𝐀 𝐓   𝐒 𝐔 𝐑

[thefaithfulwriter1]

𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐏𝐏 (𝟎𝟏. 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐏𝐏)

𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐏𝐏 | ❝ Not really sure how to feel about it. Something in the way you move. Makes me feel like I can't live without you. It takes me all the way. I want you to stay. ❞ - Rihanna & Mikky Ekko

Summary - When love is true, distances doesn't matter. That was something she read somewhere from the internet. It proves to be true though when she meets two handsome men on a dating app called Cupid Matchmaker App. Two men she never thought would notice her even on a simple dating app. The three soon embark on a journey together finding love in each other, through texting, video calls, calls, and then finally meeting.

Pairing - Taehyung x Fem!Reader x Jungkook

Alternative Universe - Normal Life, Social Media (Sort Of), Tattoo Artist

Warnings - Fluff, Angst, Semi Smut, Language, Mention of Past Sexual Abuse, Poly. Relationship, MxM, MxMxF, FxM, May Add If Needed

Main Characters - 𝐘/𝐧 𝐋/𝐧 - The Shy Painter / Artist, 𝐓𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠 -Tattoo Artist, 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤 - Tattoo Artist, 𝐀𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐭 & 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 - 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧 - The Owner of Tattoo shop, 𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐤𝐣𝐢𝐧 - The Chef, 𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢 - The Musician, 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤 - The Dance Instructor / Piercer, 𝐉𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧 - Dance Instructor / Tattoo Artist, 𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬 - (Nina Dobrev -Y/n's Best friend) - Florist, 𝐓𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 (Kat Graham - Elena's Girlfriend/ Y/n's Friend) - Photographer

Colors. Different shades of colors. Colors like blues, purple, black, and so many more. Your brush was gliding over the canvas as you painted. You had a smile upon your lips. As you watched another line painted across the canvas. It was something you were in control of. Something that you could do whatever you want with it. It gave you the peace and the control you wanted so desperately. But it would have been peaceful if it was quiet. And you would have been able to escape deeper into your imagination.

But you weren't granted with such a thing. You had someone who was in the room with you jabbering on. While you were trying to focus on your painting. But you were still half listening to the person talking. The person you couldn't ignore if you wanted to.

"Come on! Honey, just try it this once. I promise I won't bother you about it anymore after this. Please," your best friend Elena Morris begged you. You were in your art room in your house painting a new piece for a customer. You have been listening to Elena go on and on about you being single for so long for about an hour now. She was making it know, she wanted for you to start mingling and dating. Elena was there with her girlfriend Tiana not that far away.

Who was sitting on the sofa in your art room reading a magazine. She was keeping her nose in the magazine and out of your conversation as she read. Shaking your head you sighed hearing Elena. She wanted you to try out a dating app. Which was where she had met Tiana. The two of them having been together for a year now. A quarter of it started out with text out over the app that Elena was trying to get you to use. You couldn't deny that they were adorable, and you were ecstatic for them. But you just didn't want to date for reasons that Elena didn't understand.

"Elena, will you stop it. I don't want to date. Can't you get that through your thick skull girl. Tiana help me. Get your girlfriend," you sighed with a laugh. Putting the brush down you wiped your hands on the apron you were wearing. As you turned to Elena, giving her your full attention now putting your hands on your hips. Your black apron having paint smears and stains on it.

You were beginning to become frustrated though with your best friend. Because she didn't understand you were... scared. More so she couldn't tell that you were scared. You haven't told her you were scared to date or have any sort of relationship. You were scared to get that close with someone. But your attention was pulled from Elena. Who had her hands together in a begging motion as she gave you her best puppy dog eyes. Tiana, though hearing you, turned to you and began speaking.

"All I have to say on the matter is that you should try it once. YOLO. You only live once. If you don't like it, all well at least you could say you tried it. You know, and you never know what will happen. That is all I have to say on the matter," Tiana chuckled as she watched Elena. Who had a wide smile upon her face hearing her girlfriend agree with her. As Tiana put her magazine down looking from you to Elena with a smile. A sigh left you though hearing her words. As you slapped your hand against your head gently with a shake of your head. You understood where Tiana was coming from. You also knew Elena just wanted to see you happy.

"I'm scared to date. Okay! I don't want to get close to anyone or it's along the lines I'm afriad to. Plus I don't know if anyone will take their time with me. With everything you know, " you grunted. As you rubbed at your temples. You were so done with the conversation all together. You didn't want to date. But you finally told them why you didn't want to. And it was as if a weight was lifted off your shoulders, as you took deep breaths.

But your friends didn't seem to understand. But now that you said it maybe they'll back off. But that wasn't the case. You were soon slowly engulfed in a hug by Elena. While Tiana put down her magazine walking over to you both and joining the hug. You were tense at first but soon relaxed in their hold as you sighed.

"You can't always cut people off because you're scared Y/n. You got to open up. Take chances... make mistakes. Take a chance at love. You never know what may happen like Tiana said. Honey," Elena whispered to you. As she hugged you and Tiana tightly. She knew some of your troubles but not all of them. She and you had promised each other a long time ago you two would always be there for one another. Which you two haven't broken yet. The next thing the two of you heard was Tiana speaking.

"Like I said Y/n, you only live once. Life's too short. Elena's right though take a chance. It'll give you a chance to say I at least tried. But also do it because you want to not because of us, alright. Plus if you meet someone and they're the right someone they'll take all the time you need. They'll also accept you for who you are," Tiana chimed in from her spot behind you. As she unwrapped her arms from you. You sent her a small smile with a sigh.

Before thinking it over again.

You were scared to date and be close to anyone for a couple of reasons. One, you didn't want to deal with putting so much effort in a relationship and have them walk away. Which has happened many times before and you weren't even in a relationship with the people. You were afraid to become attached to the person and have them leave. Which you were a person who doesn't get attached at first but once you do it becomes hard for you to let them go.Then, you didn't want to deal with being the only one putting any effort in the relationship only to have it one sided. Again that has happened to you before.

But then there was also the thing with you and being touched. You didn't know how to initiate skinship. You didn't like being touched unless you were aware of the person touching you. Also you have never had anything with intimacy happen to you ever. After a few incidents happened when you were younger, you shied away from such things, and became the way you are now today. Scared of dating, along with touch, and pretty much everything that came with a relationship. But then again like Tiana said you only live once. Maybe you should give it a try. And maybe just maybe you'll find the right person. So with a shake of your head and muttering under your breath 'can't believe I'm going to do this.' You look at Elena and Tiana and nod your head then begin to speak.

"I can't believe I'm agreeing to this but fine. I'll try this so-called dating app. But you two owe me big time," you agreed. As you agreed with the plan. Elena was soon squealing as she stepped away from you. As she jumped up and down clapping her hands her hair bounced as she did. She was so excited and was hoping for the best for you. All she wanted was for her best friend to be happy. Sighing, you looked at her and couldn't help but send her a smile. She had always been there for you ever since you met on a website when you both were in your teens. Bonding over your love for tv shows and movies. And when you two met you were inseparable ever since.

"Yes! Okay let me help you with your profile. Let me help you get ready for the love of your life. I have so many good feelings about this. Come on! Come on," she exclaimed. As she grabbed your hand and started to drag you out of the art room. You were not having it though. That was one thing you wanted to do on your own. Set up the app and start your own profile. You wanted to put your own self into this app with no help. You shook your head trying to stop her. Though Elena was small she was strong as she dragged you. But she was soon stopped by Tiana. Who had seen your pleading look and wanted to help you. Taking your hand from Elena's with an amused smile.

"Thank you Tiana. And Ah! Ah! Ah! I want to do that on my own Elena," you informed Elena. As you turned to Tiana, sending her a thankful nod. She sent you one back before pulling Elena into her arms. Hearing this caused Elena to pout as she fell into Tiana's arms. As she crossed her arms. Her having wanted to help you with your profile. Shaking your head you giggled at her antics.

"You want me to do this. And I actually want to try and do this. But... I want to try and do this on my own. Which means the whole profile thing and talking to these people on my own. But I will ask you guys for help if I need it though," you explained to the two. As you rubbed at you arm with a bashful smile. You were hoping that they understood where you were coming from.

"Okay! Okay... I get it. We'll let you do this on your own. But you better call or text if you need anything. And when I say anything I mean anything alright Y/n," Elena ordered softly of you. As she pointed to you accusingly. Smiling, you nodded with another giggle. You just couldn't help yourself with how Elena was acting.

"Alright it's about time for us to go babe. Lets leave Y/n to it with her work. Later just text or give us a call if you need anything okay Y/n," Tiana said. As she looked at the time on her phone. Pulling Elena with her along the way out the door. Once upon a time you and Elena used to be roommates. But when things began to get serious with Tiana she moved out. Which you were sad at first but accepted. Chuckling you followed and watched as the two let themselves out. With the two of them shouting goodbye as they put their shoes and coats on. Before heading out the door with smiles and waves.

As they left you shut and lock the door. Before going back to your art room to finish painting. As you painted your tried to get lost in your work and escape into your own little world that was your art. But you could never really fully immerse yourself into your little world. Which caused you to sigh in aggravation. Because you couldn't fully escape and you couldn't get over the nagging feeling. The feeling that came with this dating app that Elena and Tiana wanted you to try. Though you were overly nervous over the whole thing. There was a small excited feeling that washed over you, every time you thought of the idea of finding your person.

Shaking your head you placed your paint brush down. You figured that you would stop for the day and clean up. Which took some time with cleaning up the paint and brushes. You soon took the painting over for it to dry and not get messed up. But then you soon walked out of the art room and took a shower cleaning yourself up.

Once done you went to your room and looked for your phone. Having left it in your room while you were working. Not wanting to get distracted. It had been a couple hours since Elena and Tiana had left. When you finally got to your phone you saw a few messages from customers and buyers.

Then there was one that caught your eyes. It was from Elena, she had sent you a link to the app with a winking emoji. It was called Cupid Matchmaker App. Which caused you to roll you eyes at her but soon smile. Clicking the link you waited for it to load as you climbed into your bed getting comfortable. You then looked at your phone seeing the app had loaded. Looking at it you breathed trying to gain the courage to download the app. The icon was purple with hearts on it.

- 𝙲𝚄𝙿𝙸𝙳 𝙼𝙰𝚃𝙲𝙷𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴𝚁 𝙰𝙿𝙿 -

𝘿𝙊𝙒𝙉𝙇𝙊𝘼𝘿...

𝘠𝘌𝘚 𝘰𝘳 𝘕𝘖

Breathing in a deep breath you then sigh and click yes.

After answering questions you then begin to build and make your profile. Setting up a few pictures of you along with your artwork. You were soon interrupted by your vast black Maine Coon cat named Shadow. Who decided to jump on your bed laying down next to you. A smile took over your lips as you decided to put up a picture of you and Shadow on your profile.

Giggling you ran your hand over his fur which granted you a loud purr from him. Smiling with a giggle you turned your attention to your phone and began to look over the pictures you uploaded. You then sigh as you get nervous when seeing your 'About Me' blank. Taking a moment to think you put a few things in the description box then clicked for it to upload. You then started the long night of swiping on your phone and talking to people. 

[draeyad]

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ 𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬 ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

𝐜 𝐫 𝐞 𝐚 𝐭 𝐞 𝐝  𝐛 𝐲  𝐃 𝐑 𝐀 𝐄 𝐘 𝐀 𝐃

is your game lacking some drama && cuteness? do you struggle coming up with your own storylines? don’t worry, i’ve got you. this challenge is perfect for those of you that take pleasure in the good, the bad and the downright ugly.

be prepared, you’re in for it. the drama doesn’t stop in this one. 

heavily inspired by melanie martinez songs coupled with some of my favorite colors, this is kind of like a berry challenge. but like melanie, we are wielding dual colors. each gen has two colors that will bleed into the next. you can utilize dual colors in multitudes of ways. you can create berry sims or normal sims, color coordinate their clothes and makeup, change up their hair colors. doesn’t matter as long as you use the two colors given to signal each generation.

tw; this challenge may cover topics that some are sensitive to. specifically cheating, death, gangs, neglected childhood, kidnapping, implied body dysmorphia.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

that said, this challenge has two paths. one path is pack friendly and one path is base game compatible. if you run into any issues, pls dm me here and i will revise. you can switch between paths depending on what suits your game.

you can find the base game friendly path of this challenge here.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ 𝐫 𝐮 𝐥 𝐞 𝐬 ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

— ♡ You must complete each goal listed for each generation in order to move on to the next. — ♡ Some cheats are allowed to progress the story. I’ll clarify in each generation. — ♡ no money cheats tho. that’s kinda not fun. you can use freerealestate for your first house in gen 1. but that’s it unless otherwise stated — ♡ life span can be kept on normal OR long. normal is optimal. short is not recommended unless you want to have a nervous breakdown. — ♡ you can take sims into cas.fulleditmode since a lot of sims need specific traits that interact with your sim. — ♡ if you play this challenge, please tag me in #crybabywhims on here or dm me links to any youtube videos. my discord also has a channel to share screenshots from this challenge.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ 𝐃 𝐎 𝐋 𝐋 𝐇 𝐎 𝐔 𝐒 𝐄 ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙            𝐠 𝐞 𝐧 𝐞 𝐫 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧  𝟏

aspiration: successful lineage career: none at first, politician as adult (either branch) traits: perfectionist, paranoid, family oriented

colors: yellow && white

— everyone thinks that we’re perfect, please don’t let them look through the curtains —

you grew up a perfect white picket fence life in a perfect home. perfect parents, perfect siblings, perfect grades. nothing was ever out of place. or was it? your memory is a little jaded, it seems. maybe, you got it all wrong. you were taught father builds the home and mother maintains it. but how was dad making money again? jeeze, you can’t remember. did you choose to forget? and like the perfect sim you are, you fell in love in high school with the perfect person. or, you thought they were perfect until you saw them kissing your sibling. and only a few years later, they got married. you weren’t even invited to the wedding. no, this wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

you were perfect. where did it go wrong?

you promised you’d keep to your mother’s beliefs. you married young (18 to be exact) and took care of your spouse, of your home. but your ex was always hanging around your siblings house. and you guys may have accidentally hooked up. and now you guys are pregnant, each having a different spouse.

— is it weird to coparent with your siblings spouse? should you keep seeing your ex? what about your partner? will they catch you cheating? will you tell them the truth or continue living a lie?

— ♡ have a high school sweat heart you start on bad terms with (cheat this or just have them yell at each other a lot) — ♡ have a very caring spouse who you’re madly in love with — ♡ have a perfect white picket fence home with your spouse — ♡ slowly rebuild a relationship with your ex — ♡ start hooking up with your ex and one of you gets pregnant — ♡ raise the child under your roof — ♡ have three more children with your spouse — ♡ divorce your spouse as an adult and take all the children — ♡ stop being a stay at home parent and join the politician career — ♡ master aspiration. — ♡ will you continue seeing your ex?

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ 𝐁 𝐎 𝐌 𝐁 𝐒  𝐎 𝐍  𝐌 𝐎 𝐍 𝐃 𝐀 𝐘  𝐌 𝐎 𝐑 𝐍 𝐈 𝐍 𝐆 ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙                             𝐠 𝐞 𝐧 𝐞 𝐫 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧  𝟐

aspiration: freelance botanist career: gardener traits: unflirty, loves the outdoors, cheerful colors: white && pink

— pinky promise, i’ll still love your garden. even with no flowers. —

love isn’t real. it doesn’t feel real. you’re not even sure who your real other parent is. your parents were always too busy messing around and barely found time for you and your siblings. you basically swore off love, thinking it only caused problems. it’s not like it mattered anyway. you all died in the end. until you met someone at a coffee shop who shared your love for the outdoors. it was rare meeting anyone as passionate as you. at first, you rejected any and all attempts to go on a date with this person. but wow, they kind of insisted on it. so you decided to humor them and despite your unflirty ways, they liked you. it was a strange feeling but it made you fall madly in love for the first time.

and then a cowplant ate them.

see, you knew this would happen. nothing can ever be sunshine and daisies. it’s too much to ask. but after stumbling across some pomegranate seeds, you got an idea. it’s not like there was anyone else for you in this world. was it wrong to bring back a dead person?

— will your relationship be sustainable with someone who is back from the dead? was it cruel to bring them back in the first place? can you continue to love them as they are?

— ♡ have a dead lover with the traits loves the outdoors, loner, vegetarian — ♡ plant a pomegranate garden in your backyard — ♡ sell flowers as a side gig — ♡ create a death flower — ♡ bring back your dead lover, but change their traits to loner, gloomy and evil (cas.fulleditmode) — ♡ have children (as many as you want) — ♡ master gardener skill — ♡ have partner join the criminal career after resurrection — ♡ complete freelance botanist aspiration — ♡ how will you keep this relationship alive?

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ 𝐂 𝐋 𝐀 𝐒 𝐒  𝐅 𝐈 𝐆 𝐇 𝐓 ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙             𝐠 𝐞 𝐧 𝐞 𝐫 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧  𝟑

aspiration - public enemy career - criminal (boss) traits: evil, self assured, geek colors - pink && orange

— no, no, no. don’t you choke. daddy chimed in, go for the throat. —

having an evil parent in the mafia was no joke. and oh, did you admire them for all their hard work. i mean, they literally came back from the dead. how cool is that? you wanted to be like them and would do whatever it took to gain their approval. your grades were awful, your friends were the worst and your parents got weekly phone calls from school about you. it was a nice feeling. you even met a partner just like you and you felt inseparable. kind of like a modern bonnie & clyde minus the bad parts like dying in a hail of bullets. that’s bad.

when you had your first and only child, you didn’t take much interest in them, though.

it wasn’t their fault, you just had a crime organization to run. so your parent, the non evil one, mostly raised them. and maybe that was for the best. you didn’t have much parental instinct and who knows how messed up they might have turned out if you raised them. all’s well that ends well.

— how long can you keep up this lifestyle before it catches up with you? Are you going to regret ignoring your child? or worse, will you regret not conforming to a normal life?

— ♡ get terrible grades in school — ♡ meet and fall in love with a sim that has the exact same traits as yours (cheat this if needed) — ♡ have three friends, all with an evil trait — ♡ get pregnant but take no time off — ♡ have your parents move in to help take care of the baby themselves (cheat a longer lifespan if needed) — ♡ maintain a low relationship with your child — ♡ have a terrible reputation — ♡ max out mischief skill — ♡ reach top of criminal career, boss branch — ♡ will you ever have a good relationship with your child?

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ 𝐓 𝐑 𝐀 𝐈 𝐍 𝐈 𝐍 𝐆  𝐖 𝐇 𝐄 𝐄 𝐋 𝐒 ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙                  𝐠 𝐞 𝐧 𝐞 𝐫 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧  𝟒

aspiration: soulmate BUT SWITCH to leader of the pack career: freelance writer traits: romantic, genius, bookworm colors - orange && red

— fully undressed, no training wheels left for you. and i’ll pull them off for you. —

unlike your grandparent that raised you, you were a believer in love. love at first sight, opposites attract, enemies to lovers. if it was a love trope, you believed in it. you pretty much devoted your life to the idea of love. so when you met the one, just like in all the obscure fanfiction you read, they swept you off your feet. you would do anything in the world to be with them. every hour of every day. you just couldn’t get enough of them. your life felt perfect when you were with them and nothing in this world could make you feel bad again.

until they dumped your ass.

you spent the better half of your breakup keyboard smashing new fanfic titles about loveless relationships while downing a whole tub of ben & jerry’s. and really, who could blame you? that was rough. and thus, the baddies club was originated. a club of three pretty best friends, all single, and didn’t need no damn relationship. or did you?

— is this the life you’ve been dreaming of? or are you still a hopeful romantic at heart, waiting on someone to come take you away? but how would your besties feel if they knew?

— ♡ go through a breakup with your significant other — ♡ write three books with hateful titles about relationships — ♡ switch aspiration to leader of the pack — ♡ start a club of singles and get only two pretty best friends to join — ♡ develop an extremely close bond with your two new friends — ♡ go out with your besties every friday night — ♡ host a movie night on saturdays — ♡ max out writing skill — ♡ complete leader of the pack aspiration — ♡ move your besties in with you and decide to adopt and raise a child together — ♡ will you ever find love again or are you and your besties true soulmates for life?

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ 𝐏 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘  𝐏 𝐀 𝐑 𝐓 𝐘 ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙           𝐠 𝐞 𝐧 𝐞 𝐫 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧  𝟓

aspiration: villainous valentine career: fashion (trend setter) traits: noncommittal, jealous, high maintenance

colors - red && black

— it’s my party, and i’ll cry if i want to. i’ll cry until the candles burn down this place. —

you’re a brat. it’s as simple as that, really. with so many people watching over you while growing up, it was rare you didn’t get what you wanted. and you were always kinda jealous of how smart your parent was. they were just - so good at everything. and all you really had was beauty. who cares about that crap? beauty fades. well, it was really your only defining attribute so might as well make the best of it while you could. you just wished people liked you for you and not because you were extremely smoking hot.

well, then. if you can’t be happy, no one can. that’s a principle you always lived by.

you became a prolific fashionista and a professional life ruiner. not only did you ruin marriages, you broke hearts of your own lovers. it just felt so dang good to be in control. until - uh oh. you met a gym rat and now you can’t stop thinking about their perfect eyes. no, this can’t be happening. you don’t fall in love. who the hell do they think they are, walking into your life like that? better make them pay.

— are you really falling in love that easily? or is it just a fluke? will you keep ruining lives forever or do you think it may be time to settle down?

— ♡ do yoga every morning — ♡ be enemies with every sim as gorgeous as your sim you come across — ♡ have 3000 followers on social media — ♡ meet a super attractive sim at the gym — ♡ make them fall in love with you and break up with them — ♡ complete villainous valentine aspiration — ♡ rekindle old flame with sim you met at the gym — ♡ max wellness skill — ♡ have identical same gender twins with gym sim (you can cheat this if needed) — ♡ will you put your past behind you and accept love into your life?

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ 𝐂 𝐎 𝐏 𝐘  𝐂 𝐀 𝐓 ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙         𝐠 𝐞 𝐧 𝐞 𝐫 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧  𝟔

aspiration: big happy family career: stay at home parent (artist freelancer) traits: art lover, creative, clumsy

colors - black && peach

— you’re a copy cat. you take it, then you leave it just like that. —

you were born as a twin to a narcissistic parent and unfortunately, you were the scapegoat while your twin was the golden child. your twin always got the three hundred dollar christmas present and you were lucky to get the book you asked for. if your twin did something wrong, it was actually your fault. you couldn’t wait to break away from the dysfunction in your family. and break away, you did. you moved out the minute you turned 18 and you didn’t look back. mostly, you made money by selling anime oc art on simblr. but a sim that you met on the same website offered for you to come stay with them. and eventually, like a movie, the two of you fell in love. you even started talking about a future together. you mentioned wanting children to treat them better than your parents did you.

but, wait. why the hell is your twin showing up at your door suddenly?

without much invitation, your twin is now living with you guys. you’ve explained to your partner that you can’t really say no to your twin. you’d feel like a bad sibling if you did that. however, you twin is acting kinda weird. a streak of jealousy, perhaps? oh, they’re just like your parent! not only does your twin insist on sharing the same roof, you caught them flirting with your partner who thought it was you. and why is your twin wearing your favorite cardigan? and when you guys fall pregnant with your first child, suddenly your twin wants to take the baby. oh, hell no.

— how will you choose to handle your twin trying to steal your life? you still love them so what can you do? do you let this run its course or intervene? could your family be in danger?

— ♡ be moved in with your soulmate — ♡ have your twin move in with you — ♡ your twin should have the traits slob, kleptomaniac and lazy — ♡ get married to your soulmate, but your twin crashes the wedding by acting inappropriately and upsetting guests — ♡ you take up freelancing art professionally and your twin joins at the same time — ♡ catch your partner cheating on you with your twin — ♡ rebuild your relationship with your partner over time and fall pregnant — ♡ have your twin constantly take over caring for the baby — ♡ have two more children — ♡ move the annoying twin out of town with one of your babies and half your money. they stole your baby! — ♡ switch to that household and dedicate your life to raising the stolen baby as the annoying twin — ♡ will you ever get your sweet baby back?

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ 𝐎 𝐑 𝐀 𝐍 𝐆 𝐄  𝐉 𝐔 𝐈 𝐂 𝐄 ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙              𝐠 𝐞 𝐧 𝐞 𝐫 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧  𝟕

aspiration: free space career: business, then switch to law then switch to your choice traits: gloomy, music lover, ambitious

colors - peach & brown

— your body is imperfectly perfect, everyone wants what the other one’s working. —

you suffered terribly with your identity. you didn’t know who you were or who you wanted to be. your parent couldn’t provide a birth certificate or photos of you at the hospital when you were born. you didn’t even know who your other parent was. everyone has two parents, right? see, that’s your problem. you want to be like everyone else, unable to find yourself in all the confusion. the confusion of going nowhere. you’ve always been told this or that is the right way. but have you ever considered your own way? maybe it was time to stop comparing to others and just go.

now yours would be a journey of self discovery. you deserved it after all.

after going through some documents at work one day, you saw a missing flyer of yourself. no. it couldn’t be. you were stolen. that explains so much about everything! you’re determined to find your real parents and figure out where you fit in in life. kinda weird you look so much like who you thought was your bio parent. maybe there’s more to this than you realize.

— how will you confront the person who raised you? what path will you choose when you finally have a sense of identity? are you parents everything you thought they would be?

— ♡ get a job in business straight out of graduating high school (aging up to a young adult) — ♡ stay living with your parent to help them cover the cost of your home (you can use cheats if funds are low) — ♡ decide you don’t like business and switch to law — ♡ find your birth parents and start building a relationship with them — ♡ go to the park with your real parents every monday and have a barbeque. — ♡ kick your fake parent out once you have reached 100 friendship with both of your real parents. keep all household funds to yourself. — ♡ decide what career you want and stick to it — ♡ max five skills of your choice — ♡ meet your future spouse at work and have children with them that your real parents get to know — ♡ what ever happened to your fake parent that stole you?

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ 𝐇 𝐈 𝐆 𝐇  𝐒 𝐂 𝐇 𝐎 𝐎 𝐋  𝐒 𝐖 𝐄 𝐄 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐀 𝐑 𝐓 𝐒 ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙                              𝐠 𝐞 𝐧 𝐞 𝐫 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧  𝟖

aspiration: soulmate career: education traits: goofball, bro, dance machine

colors - brown && gold

— if you can’t handle a heart like mine, don’t waste your time with me. —

you were a class clown. everyone, and i mean everyone, just adored you to pieces. but of them all, you only adored one back. they were your rock and you truly loved everything about them. their hair, the way they smelled even the way they talked. but maybe you were a little too friendly and you gave the wrong signals. you were always just the best friend. when they introduced you, you were just the best friend. you wanted to be more. you always hoped for more. but at the same time, you didn’t want to ruin what you had going. all the way through high school and into adulthood.

and then they got married and you realized you were still in love with your high school best friend. your sweetheart.

you confessed your love for them one starry night and they confessed they’ve always felt the same. but now there’s a problem. their spouse. without much time to consider it, your best friend gets a divorce and is all about you now. this is what you wanted, right? is it? uh oh, someone is getting cold feet now.

— is this the life you want or maybe did you just want to prove you could do it? would you be better off with someone who chose you first? or better off alone?

— ♡ accept EVERY hangout invitation on your days off only — ♡ have a total of ten good friends — ♡ complete three whims every day  — ♡ confess your attraction to your best friend at their house during night time — ♡ provoke them to leave their spouse — ♡ max out comedy skill — ♡ max out dance skill — ♡ go on a date with your best friend once their divorce is finalized — ♡ get married, but leave them at the altar before the wedding ends — ♡ find out one of you is having the other’s baby — ♡ will you go back to them and work things out for the sake of the child?

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ 𝐌 𝐑 𝐒  𝐏 𝐎 𝐓 𝐀 𝐓 𝐎  𝐇 𝐄 𝐀 𝐃 ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙                   𝐠 𝐞 𝐧 𝐞 𝐫 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧  𝟗

aspiration: mansion baron career: you’re too gorgeous to work traits: neat, hates children, mean

colors - gold & silver

— do you swear you’ll stay forever? even if her face don’t stay together? —

when you were little, you had dreams and aspirations of grandeur. you couldn’t imagine an amount of money that would satisfy you. however, you didn’t really wanna work for it like other people. you were kinda hoping it would just fall into your lap. and fall into your lap, it most certainly did. in the form of the wealthiest sim in town. it started by them offering to cover your coffee and as you turned up the charm, they only became more smitten with you. you were gorgeous with youth on your side. they simply couldn’t resist. everything was going so well. all you had to do was keep up your appearance, manage your home and look stunning while doing so. nothing could bring you down.

nothing except maybe aging.

as you got older, your now spouse seemed bored with you. the children you had together even seemed annoyed with you. you decided to ask your spouse for some money to “fix yourself”. they provided the funds for you to get cosmetic surgery, but they didn’t stay. now you just had a large empty home with screaming children, living on borrowed fortune and big lips. so it’s mostly up to one of your kids to strike big and take care of you. it’s not like you’ll be getting a job ever.

— will you realize beauty is only skin deep? will you ever find love again? could you learn how to be the parent your children need?

— ♡ never work a day in your life — ♡ marry the wealthiest sim in town as a young adult — ♡ max out fitness skill only by jogging/treadmill or reading — ♡ max out charisma skill — ♡ accidentally have two children before becoming an adult — ♡ accidentally have one more child as an adult — ♡ change your sim once a sim week as an adult in cas.fulleditmode by slightly increasing lip size and breast OR butt size depending on gender ID.  — ♡ divorce your rich spouse and be left with the house, but only half the money — ♡ will you get revenge on your ex spouse? you thought they’d never leave you.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ 𝐒 𝐇 𝐎 𝐖  &&  𝐓 𝐄 𝐋 𝐋 ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙              𝐠 𝐞 𝐧 𝐞 𝐫 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧  𝟏𝟎

aspiration: world famous celebrity career: actor traits: snob, outgoing, good

colors - silver && lilac

— i’m on display for all you f*ckers to see. —

you lived a lavish life in the lap of luxury. you were the child of an elite and pretty much got everything you wanted. your face was already pretty well known so when your recently divorced parent put you into showbiz, it was pretty easy to get in. you knew your parent was only using you so that they didn’t have to work. and as crappy as it is, you still loved your parent very much and wanted to also be able to provide for your siblings. so you couldn’t really say no. as time went on, people loved you. you were charismatic, outgoing and sweet. somewhat. but that pressure to maintain image started to build and people’s expectations of you grew higher.

it felt like they were always screaming dance, monkey. dance.

to make matters worse, you were becoming a household name and the sims elite wanted you as part of their organization. promising immortality. they drink blood so you’re pretty sure they are a vampire cult. you can’t get them to leave you the hell alone. but wow, one of them is kinda gorgeous.

— will you join the elite yourself and become an immortal? or maybe it’s best to go into hiding and never be seen literally ever again? this cult stuff sounds pretty serious.

— ♡ reach the top of the acting career — ♡ send your parent money every week (min 500 simoleons. cheat this by using money and taking 500 off your wallet every week sims time) — ♡ have an eccentric silver(white) & lilac penthouse in the city — ♡ host five meet and greets — ♡ max acting skill — ♡ find an obscure hobby of your choice — ♡ cycle through four different relationships at the same time — ♡ meet some hot vampires who want to turn you into one of them — ♡ fall in love with a vampire and run away with them into seclusion in a different world — ♡ drop your fame and never return to the spotlight, lose all connections to family and live out a secluded life with your vampire lover.

enjoy this challenge? don’t forget to tag me in screenies under #crybabywhims. this challenge is still under development and changes may be made as i see fit. join my discord community to post about the challenge there as well.

have fun my angels!  — ♡

[skrillawrld]

𝐆 𝐈 𝐑 𝐋 𝐒

𝐘 𝐔 𝐌 𝐄 𝐊 𝐎 𝐗 𝐁 𝐋 𝐀 𝐂 𝐊 ¡ 𝐅 𝐄 𝐌 ! 𝐑 𝐄 𝐀 𝐃 𝐄 𝐑

➜ 𝐒 𝐌 𝐔 𝐓

ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏~･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

“You Lose.” You heard, as Yumeko yelled out triumphantly. This was your third time losing against her and you just kept digging yourself deeper in debt. However, Yumeko didn’t mind, she was always fascinated with you. Your attitude, your style, and the way you carried yourself. So elegant and magnificent. She admired how you never took shit from anymore, including her and Kirari.  

She smiled down upon you, she knew she had you where she needed you to be. Saying that she was obsessed with you would be an understatement, she’s always with you, even when you thought she wasn’t. Funny thing about it, she’s literally your dorm mate. Whenever you thought you could catch a break with her you couldn’t, she was everywhere. Though your doors separated you both she always found a way to be up under you and in your personal space.

“How are you going to pay me, my dear.” She asked. She had you stuck, because What money did you have to pay her with? You gambled all of your money on the first and second game, expecting the third game to be your chance to win. I guess luck was never on your side.

“I’ll have your money soon.” You told her, you knew it wouldn’t slide, you knew the rules, and yet still tried to slither your way from them? she could’ve laughed at how pathetic you looked right then and there, but she refrained from doing so. She was already planning on making fun of you since you had to be her house pet.

“That’s not how it works and you know it.” She grinned in your face. Her voice leaking with dominance. Were you panties wet at the moment? Maybe, maybe not. Not any of her business anyways. It wasn’t as if you would subtly tease her because you thought she may of had something for you, totally not that. 

One thing about Yumeko, she noticed everything about you, and in that moment she watched as your thighs clenched together at her voice. She smiled, placing the house pet tag around your neck and pulling your face closer to hers. 

“I’m onto you sweetheart.” She whispered. She then left you in the room by yourself, to do what? Maybe think about what she meant probably, but you were thinking about something else. 

You were thinking about every position she could possibly have you in while you enjoyed cumming on her face. Just the though of being so intimate with her sent shivers up your spine. Your pussy clenched in excitement as your clit throbbed in pain, you couldn’t contain the dirty thoughts from spilling out. You needed to get to your dorm and get there quickly, but you still had class. You’d just have to ask to use the restroom and thug it out from there.

“Can I use the restroom please?” You asked the professor.

“Of course but you’ll miss some notes.” He stated.

 “I’ll give it to her.” Yumeko stated. 

“Thank you Ms.Jabami, you may use the bathroom now.” The professor said.

As soon as you reached into the bathroom you went into the furthest stall from the door. Pulling your skirt and panties down, staring at the stickiness left inside. You’d have to make a makeshift pad when you were done. You pulled out your phone, the phone you really weren’t supposed to have, and opened the twitter app, you switched from your regular account to your private and scrolled until you saw a lesbian video that fit your satisfaction.

The seat were clean so you sat there and spread your legs, You sat there watching as the two girls in the video tribe with one another until one started squirting. You began pumping your fingers into yourself at a fast pace, hoping no one would walk in and hear the squelching noises your sloppy pussy was making. Your orgasm was approaching quickly. You placed your phone on top of the tissue holder and started rubbing your clit while fucking yourself on your fingers. The sight was straight from a porn scene, you wished she were there to watch, to call you a slut or tell you that your such a dirty whore for toying with yourself in public. The thought of her punishing you for cumming without her permission sent you into your orgasm, you came hard. Spasming and squirting on the floor.

Just as you were done you heard the bathroom door open. You quickly wiped up the mess you made and walked back to class, or at least try to. 

“You took quite some time, and your legs are shaking, are you okay?” Ryota asked. He was truly a sweet boy but at that moment you wish he’d shut up. Mary and Yumeko then started looking at you too. You couldn’t read their facial expressions much. Mary’s was neutral but you could almost see the look of mischief in her eyes, and Yumeko didn’t hide hers.  

“How was your trip Ms.L/n.” Yumeko whispered in your ear. You chose to ignore her until whenever, but you knew whenever would probably be until tonight, she’d make you talk to her if you ignored her too long.

“I’ll see you in our dorms.” She laughed out. You knew that meant nothing good, so you decided to avoid her by staying in the library until you thought she was sleeping. Usually you slept in early so you never got to watch her fall asleep, you were just hoping she was asleep.

You began walking back to your dorms, it was around 8:30-ish. Everyone was supposed to be in their dorms by 8 but you pleaded with the librarian to let you “study” for a little more. 

As you entered into your dorm you could immediately feel her dominating presence looming from the couch directly centered in your living room, your worst nightmare had became your reality, and luck definitely proved not to be on your side. 

She sat there, manspreading in nothing but a tank top and shorts. The sight of her sitting there in that position had your mind in a frenzy. Her tits were spilling out her tank top and you could see her nipples were hard. You started to walk to your room but she started speaking.

“Were you planning on ignoring me all day? Are were you going to talk to me when you finished “studying?” She asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about and I honestly don’t care either. I’m tired and ready to go to bed.” You told her but she didn’t care, she got up out of her position and began walking to you. She then stood, towering, over you.

“What did you do in the bathroom earlier today?” She questioned. You watched as her lips move but you weren’t listening, her boobs were right in your face, and you really wasn’t better than any man. You started imagining all of the positions you’d have her and giving her pleasure in. 

She noticed you were zoned out and gripped you by your throat. Your pussy instantly clenched, you wanted her so bad.

“Since your thoughts are always somewhere else when I’m speaking to you I guess I’ll have to get physical she grunted in your ears. This side of Yumeko was honestly surprising, in class and around people she was always a “cheery” person her aura was dominant, but now her and her aura was dominating over you. 

“How are you baby? You know if you wanted my help you could’ve asked. You know I’d help you with anything. I notice the little things you do to get my attention, and it works. They always did, I noticed when you’d clench your thighs when I looked at you, or how you wear your night dress without panties and purposely bend over because to reach the remote because the Tv was “Too loud.” You’re just as much as a pervert as I am.” She stated. 

She gagged you good. You were speechless, you knew all the things you did but you didn’t expect her to throw it back up in your face. She then looked down at you then your lips, you knew what she wanted and you wanted it just as bad. You began to lean in to let her know you wanted her, and she yanked your neck and started kissing you roughly. You couldn’t help it, your moans started spilling out of your mouth and loudly.

She then placed her leg between your thighs creating friction on your clit. She had you right where she wanted you, she wanted you to need her, to depend on her for pleasure, she wanted to ruin you. To watch as your pretty tears fall down your face as she ate you out into your nth orgasm.

“You’re such a pretty girl, my pretty girl, yeah?” She moaned in your ear.

“Mhm, just your pretty girl !” You moaned back as you humped on her leg. She decided to carry you both back on the couch while kissing on your neck. She placed you in missionary while she sat at the end of your pussy.

She slid your panty to the side and grinned, you were so wet, so wet that it connected to your panties when she started pulling them completely off. She began kissing from the back of your thighs all the way to your clit. She then latched onto the bud, causing you to arch and let out a pornographic moan. She almost came just from the sound alone.

“Look at this pretty pussy baby, and its all mine. Your sloppy cunt is all mine.” She voiced. Staring into your eyes causing you holes to clench. Her expression meant she was serious. She then went back to eating you out, she inserted two fingers, curling them up and started pumping in and out of your pussy, hitting your g-spot repeatedly.

“Yumeko, I’m gonna cum!” You choked out. She didn’t care, her eating you out was for her pleasure, it’s something she’s been waiting for.

“Yeah baby? Cum for mommy.” She said lowly. You then came, squirting in her mouth. She was a little shocked, she had no clue you were a squirter. She then licked up all your juices and started to tongue fuck you until you came two more times.

After she had her fun with you she placed you on your knees as she stood in front of you, she collected your braids in a ponytail and started thrusting your face into her pussy. She had no panties on so you tasted everything.

“You look so good for mommy baby, you look so perfect down there.” She said, taunting you. She then took her pant off and shoved your nose onto her clit.

“Open your mouth, and let me see your tongue.” She groaned out. After you stuck your tongue out she continued to fuck on it,  moaning out how you were such a good girl for her and how she lives to satisfy her cute little house pet, and that you were the love of her life, she even threatened to find you if you ever left her. Something you had no plan on doing. 

She was close to her orgasms, leaning back on the chair and watching as you forced your tongue into her messy pussy, she wanted to take a picture so badly to remember this moment, she wanted everyone to know you were hers and she was yours. After she creamed on your tongue, you licked it up and smiled at her, she was so cute. 

She then carried both of you into the bathroom to shower, in there she massaged your body while whispering sweet things into your ears. When you both were done she went into your room and laid down while you laid on top of her. You began massaging her boobs and placed one into your mouth while pinching the other one. She watched as you fell asleep, tired from todays events.

“Next time I have to dress you as a kitten and have you roleplay.” She laughed.

She then drifted off to sleep, not without giving you a goodnight kiss though.

✩━━━━━━━━━✮━━━━━━━━━━✩

✩©skrillawrld. Do not steal, copy or modify my work in any way, shape or form.✩