#so stylish(●´□`)♡

[nanakorobiyaokii]

  💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

[lesbianjudasiscariot]

one of my roommates (hes been living here for a month) has only seen when i'm wearing pjs i'm worried he thinks this is all i wear.....

[helluvapoison]

jealousy, jealousy

˚✧₊⁎ The Vees ⁎⁺˳✧༚

warnings: violence, off page murdah, suggestive themes, possessive behavior

18+ only

watch out for red flags in real life and read at your own discretion ♡

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

˚✧₊⁎ Vox ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• The least jealous of the three, but that doesn’t say much, does it?

• Running an enterprise goes hand in hand with being an Overlord. Vox prides himself on being everywhere at once but he knows his limits. If wants to keep this cushy life he built, and you safe, he can’t spread himself too thin. That means occasionally cutting back on distractions

• So go out, have your fun— playtoys even! He’s not worried. Vox has literal eyes on you 24/7, access to your phone and all its contents, your lifeline is constantly synced to his peripherals. Really! He’s not worried!

• The problem arises when Vox feels threatened or undermined. If he’s in the same room, no one should even be looking at you! And if some sorry soul dared to touch you!? That’d be the last time they have hands

• “I’ve been looking for you!” He says from behind as his claws creep around your shoulders. He’ll ignore the Sinner, bringing your attention to him as security drags them away. You don’t need to know how jealous he can get

˚✧₊⁎ Velvette ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Sharing, shockingly, is not in her vocabulary! Not outfits, not credit, not the spotlight and fucking especially not you

• You’re her favorite project, she so lovingly calls you, which is a giant compliment. She dresses you every day so if— for some hellish reason— you left her side, she knows she has a visual claim on you. Vel quickly snaps and posts a pic of the two of you together before you go, just to remind her audience the fact you’re spoken for! Don’t you feel safe? And stylish?

• Unlike her partners, Velvette can multitask so having you around the studio can be an everyday treat! Unfortunately she has to split her focus, occasionally crashing the conversation to a stop so she can snap at someone

• Her eyes are sharp, they pick up on every little detail and seldom miss a thing. No one in her workshop would even think about approaching you, unless Vel asked, so it was all too easy to spot that new-nobody-model break his neck to check you out

• You’ve seen Velvette reduce even the oldest, most thick skinned to a puddle of piss in the street with her words. She doesn’t give anyone the chance to touch what’s hers. She’s shameless and loud, stopping the inappropriate behavior from across the room if she has to, “Oy! You! You’re fuckin’ fired, get the fuck out of here ‘fore I set you on fire!”

• As they run for the elevator, she debates if the clothes they’re wearing are worth keeping or not. With a glowing finger she swipes them off the model anyways, stripping them of her brand… and their dignity

• Velvette marks the occasion with a kiss to your cheek, stained with black lipstick, and another posted picture with a clever caption

˚✧₊⁎ Valentino ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Val invented jealousy

• He handles it as well as everyone expects

• It’s not limited to you, either! Business partners, employees, friends (if he has any left), play things, he’ll be up and arms about anything that belongs to him. There’s only one way to cut the cord tethered to him, and he’s always the one to decide how and when

• Val may have a lot of toys but you’re not one of them. You’re special— precious, actually!

• He has tabs on you at all times. Tracker in your phone, jewelry with his name on it, a bodyguard if he’s feeling particularly paranoid that day!

• Val also loves showing you off. Love bites are his favorite mark of ownership, he’ll show off wherever is most recent so be prepared to swat his hands away. Everyone can look, but only he can touch. He has four hands, one of them is on you at all times in public

• No one should manage to get in spitting distance of you— but if somehow they did and had the gall to talk to you… he’ll break their nose on the spot. He’d make quicker work with a gun, but then he’d get blood on you and he doesn’t want that

• “You’re so fuckin’ hot tonight, baby, look how clumsy you’ve made this idiot!” Val cackles, poorly masking his rage, “Seriously, I think you’re trying to get me riled up.” You open your mouth to deny it but he laughs again, carefully pulling you closer with both pairs of arms, “I’m only teasing!”

• Looming over you, Val shoots said idiot a murderous glare that gives them a five second head start. He’s yet to lose this game of chase. He always returns, clean as a crappy soap ad, to shower you in gifts in lieu of an apology for disappearing

[voidpetrova]

authority — rafe cameron x reader

☄. *. ⋆ content warning(s) & genre: swearing, objectification, mild aggression, very intimate and explicit sexual content described, choking, degradation — smut

˚♡ ｡˚ synopsis: he can't help the fact that he's obsessive, practically delusional as much as sociopathic, but you love him. no matter how controlling he could be.

✧.*

control, it's extraordinary the tactics people employ to obtain it. some rely on deception, while others engage in outright trickery. then there are those who resort to extortion. a good amount of people? fear, it's an emotion they feed off. why do we fight so hard for control? because, we know to lose it, is to put our faith in the hands of others. and what could be more dangerous?

the coastal winds whispered secrets as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the outer banks. in the quaint beach town, where the search for gold led to twists of fate, another tale unfolded—unseen, yet pulsating with the undercurrents of possessiveness and obsession. for as long as you could remember, you've been caught in the crossfire of rafe cameron and his turbulent emotions. it wasn't something you had a particular problem with, you never made a big deal about it. sure, it ticked you off, there was no denying that, but you knew fighting it off was no use.

whether it was a skirt that was just a few inches too high, or a top that revealed a bit more cleavage than anticipated, not much was necessary to send rafe off the rails. it was apart of him, consuming him more with every upcoming day. of course, he'd have to face the consequences of his actions later on, and he always felt bad. sometimes, his aggression would be laid on a tad too thick, unnecessarily hurtful comments leaving you in tears. he would always make up for it, wrapping you in his arms, consoling you and kissing your tears away. however, in the heat of the moment, if his buttons were pushed just right, there was no going back.

on this particular night, it was just a few minutes past midnight. you had spent the past half hour preparing for a girls' night out with rafe's sister. you were already late as is, listening to the tv blaring as your boyfriend watched a movie on the living room, carefully staying focused as your phone lit up with messages from sarah. you slipped into a short, stylish dress that hugged your curves, unable to shake the feeling that every thread of fabric would invoke a storm within rafe. this time, you knew exactly what you were doing, you knew exactly which cards would be dealt, and you couldn't wait.

the air hummed with tension as you descended the staircase of the mansion, the soft click of your heels echoing through the grand foyer. you knew the minute silence struck, with the movie coming to a pause, that you would soon be in for it. you took a final step down thr stairs, making your way into the living room, your stomach in knots.

rafe was spread out on the couch, head resting on his elbow with his legs kicked back. at first he didn't turn around, the silence in the room practically suffocating. he knew you were going out, you had informed him earlier, but he wasn't particullarly fond of your decision. after that, you had spoken a total of two sentences, perhaps. when the scent of your strong perfume filled his nostrils, he couldn't help but finally turn around. his eyes locking onto you with an intensity that mirrored the swirling tempests off the carolina coast.

his voice, laced with a certain edge to it, sliced through the silent atmosphere. “where do you think you're going, looking like that?” the moonlight seeping through the cracks of the windows played on his features, emphasizing the dark intensity in his eyes. it was as if the mere sight of you in that dress threatened the fragile equilibrium he desperately clung to.

you feigned a sigh, your gaze unwavering. “told you i was going out, didn't i?” you knew you were going to play your part, but you knew rafe could only handle small doses of your attitude. his eyebrows perked up at your tone. “it's a nice dress, isn't it?” his jaw tightened, involuntarily, in fact, eyes low and heavy as they scanned you from head to toe.

there was no denying it, it was a gorgeous dress. a black one, clinging onto your body thanks to the straps on your shoulders. it showed more cleavage that necessary, hugging every crevice and curve perfectly. the way it stopped just inches above your knees only added insult to injury. he hated it, he hated how good you looked.

he cleared his throat, anger bubbling in the pits of his stomach. blood coursed through his veins, he could practically feel it, heat rushing towards every part of his body possible. he adjusted his position, kicking his feet off the couch in order to face you, as if serious. “you think 'm gonna let you go out lookin' like that?” he practically taunted, tone laced with venom. you shrugged, sliding one leg behind the other as if you were truly innocent, but you knew exactly what you were doing.

“well, my drinks don't pay for themselves, don't you know?” control was slipping through his fingers like sand, and the storm within him brewed. even the tranquil beauty of the outer banks couldn't make up for the storm of pure shit rafe was more than ready to unveil. “is that so?” he countered, the venom replaced with a low edge that sent a shiver down your spine. he was standing now—the faster your heart would beat, the closer he would come towards you. you could only nod in response in spite of how weak you were in the knees.

he was in front of you in a matter of seconds, the distance of a mere few inches separating you from him. his eyes bore into your frame, admiring how small you were in comparison, how frail you seemed. you met his eyes, as if to challenge him. “let me tell you somethin', sweetheart,” you didn't have time to react, he never gave you time—he wasn't exactly that gracious. before you could make any sudden movements of your own, you found yourself facing the cold exterior of the wall, cheek pressed against the rough surface. the brutal force of rafe's every move held you down, pushing you even deeper into the wall, with one of his hands making its way from your back to your face, wrapping around your jaw, his palm now pressing into your mouth, the weight preventing you from digging your grave more than you already have—you truly thought you would suffocate, eyes widening as his other hand held both of yours, straining and pushing down with a force you knew would leave bruises the morning after.

you were completely at his disposal, and you haven't even started yet. your eyes shot down to your phone, tucked into the side of your panties due to the lack of pockets. your handbag had been an innocent bystander, taking up space on the living room table. rafe lowered his head, tilting yours slightly upward in order to gain access to your ear. “guess you'll have to cancel with sarah,” he practically purred, removing his hand, only for a split second, to turn your phone off. his hand was cool against your flushed skin, fingertips grazing your bare thigh as he snatched your phone from underneath your panties, eager to rid you both of his sister's annoyance. “thought they had a policy against sluts, anyway.”

you scoffed, despite your compromising situation and position. “yeah? you should see how fond they are of me down there.” you knew you'd regret your words the minute they left your mouth, and rafe made sure of it. in a matter of seconds, you were back to facing him. he had let go of your hands, only to wrap his fingers around your throat, turning you around with such force, your back was slammed against the wall. once again, you were forced to meet his gaze, dark eyes boring into yours. for the first time in a long time, you were afraid.

“you must've forgotten who's in charge here,” he laughed, but there wasn't a trace of humor in it. his grip on your throat tightened, as if he knew you'd add fuel to the fire with your response. “must've forgotten that sluts have no place here, let alone a say in what goes.”

it was shameful to admit that his words sent a stroke of heat down your core, it was a disgrace. you felt filthy, his grip tightening with each passing second—it was supposed to teach you a lesson, scare you into listening, but you couldn't help the way it made you feel. it was something he picked up on, you could tell by the slight smirk playing on his lips. “don't even know why i bother with you,” he continued, as if he was doing it on purpose. “you love the attention, don't you? love getting put in your place like a bitch in heat.” you couldn't answer, weakly nodding, unable to stand against the truth. he saw right through you.

his grip loosened, but remained in place. his thumb trailed up your chin, pulling your lower lip down as he smeared your lipstick into your skin. he loved the sight of you, knowing it never took much to make a mess of you, thumb tapping against your lip. your throat was in steady recovery, but you parted your lips, making room for him. he grunted, unable to resist the way your mouth welcomed him so openly, sucking away at his thumb. he pulled back, only for a second, smearing your spit against your dimples, your chin. he loved the way you gave in so easily, letting him to you do whatever crossed his mind.

“such a mess for me, and here i thought you were going out tonight,” he practically purred in your ear, fingers slick with your spit as it travelled down to your panties as he awaited a response. you couldn't help but whimper, the feeling of his wet fingers against your clothed core sending you into tame bliss. he pressed his index finger against your slit, rubbing and silently admiring how wet you were for him. wet was an understatement, every slight touch had you soaking.

“so wet for me,” he groaned, pushing your lace to the side as a fresh wisp of cool air hit your now bare cunt. your back remained pressed against the wall, a single leg sliding upwards, knee digging into his chest to grant him further access. “please, rafe,” you exhaled in anticipation, growing heat making it insufferable for you.

“such attitude just a few minutes ago,” he taunted, but even he had his priorities set straight, more focused on the uncomfortable strain in his pants than your prior retorts. he had his free hand around the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss while his other hand worked for him. you couldn't resist him, locking lips eagerly as your fingers pulled his hair ever so gently. he took that as his sign, index finger pushing past your walls before he kicked up a pace of his own.

the moans that left your mouth were delicious as a second finger joined the process. eventually, a third. his lips trailed down your jaw, too eager to stay in one place, before moving down to your collarbone. his hand had started to ache, pace quickening as he fucked you open with his fingers. no matter how many times you had sex—you were like rabbits—under any circumstances, no prep was enough for the size of his dick. every time, no matter how many fingers prepared you for what was coming, it was never enough. the pain was unbearable, the pleasure unmeasurable.

once he knew you were ready, he retracted his fingers despite your protesting whimpers. “don't you worry, baby,” he uttered out frantically, fingers desperately unbuckling his jeans, all too eager to rid himself of his clothes. “'m gonna take good care of you.”

the absolute sight of him had your mouth watering. his hair was slick with sweat, chest heaving as he took himself into his hand, thumb spreading his precum alongside the head, coating it with a thick layer. he spat onto his hand, grunting as he slicked his dick up, jacking it to coat it up evenly. it wasn't enough for him, his hand was never enough. he needed you more than you needed him.

“turn around,” it was a command, not a question, and you were to do as you were told, cheek once again pressed against the wall's rough surface. he sighed as he took in the sight of you, ass bare and back arched for him. “that's my girl.”

he hadn't planned on showing any mercy, he sure wasn't going to. under normal circumstances, he'd have given you at least a few seconds to adjust, but you knew that wasn't the case the minute his tip pushed past your slippery walls. the tip was only in for a split second before the rest of his length accomodated it. you couldn't bite any of your moans back, fingernails scraping the wall in front of you. rafe knew he wouldn't last long, not with the way your pussy was squeezing him, or the way you moaned his name. you engulfed him, swallowing his dick hole, the familiar sensation chipping away at your pride.

he held your hips down as he fucked you with long, deep strokes that made your head spin. “so fuckin' tight, holy shit,” he groaned, hips snapping as he watched the way his dick slid out, just to slide right back in. the entire sensation consumed you—the way you could feel every vein against your walls, alongside his length slamming into your cunt, in and out. you felt him outside as much as you did inside. “so wet for me.” you were practically dripping all over him, your cries bouncing off the walls as his grip dropped to your ass, grabbing onto the meat for leverage before disappearing, only to come back with a harder, rougher smack. he watched the way your ass bounced against his pelvis, turning the prettiest shade of red, as if encouraging him.

in any case, it worked. as if possible, his pase quickened as he arched his own back, allowing him to go as deep as he could, balls bouncing against your ass to accompany your cries of pure nirvana. his heart was in his stomach, he knew he was close. all he wanted to do was fill you up and all you wanted to do was get filled up by him. you loved the way he made you feel, with his tip hitting your sweet spot, sending tears down your cheeks while his shaft filled in the blanks, leaving you filled to the brim with his thick dick.

he never warned you beforehand, he didn't have to. as soon as his thrusts grew sloppy, but remained desperate, you knew he was close. a string of curses passed his lips, and that was all you had to hear in order to brace yourself, giving his dick a final squeeze before his hips began to stutter, cock twitching frantically in the deepest pits of your cunt before he let go. you both cried out, his left hand pulling your hair towards him as he buried himself in as deep as possible, painting your walls with his hot, sticky cum.

you couldn't move, you didn't dare to. he took the first step, dick still buried inside you, it almost pained him. his hot breath tickled the lobe of your ear, provoking you in the best way possible, once more. “sweetheart, you just lost the authority you never had.”

[rowretro]

𝔹𝕠𝕪𝕗𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕕?

✧warnings: fluff, slut shaming, kissing

♡synopsis: The bad boy Riki, has fallen for a rather girly girl, the kind of girl that many girls wouldn't expect guys to fall for. Y/n in her stylish outfits which were always admired by all, had the attention of Riki, and that seemed tick certain girls off.

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

Riki groaned as he saw you walk down the hallway. One would assume it's because of how much you dress up just to go to school, or the supermarket. That's not the reason. Fuck he loves it, your style, your creative, the fact that half your accessories, or very pretty clothes were made by you. He loves that you're like a fresh wave of energy that suddenly brings a dry, dead, withering flowers, to life again. Sometimes, though, the boys love your outfits, for all the wrong reasons.

"Y/n for fucksake pull your skirt down!" Riki said, audible enough for just you to hear, he pulled you to himself. His eyes scanning the pink, delicate shimmer on your eyelids, Pretty, spikey eyelashes that were perfectly stuck on, Oh and how could he forget those glossy, kissable lips? a few, tiny iridescent hearts evident. Pink bows decorating your braided hair. "but why? it looks cute when it's short" she said, it's not like she was ever going to need to bend, she can't anyway, not with the 5 inch heels her feet carry around all day.

"You want to know what your outfit is missing? a nice leather jacket. Here have mine." He said, as he dressed you in his large leather jacket, ignoring your protests. You looked adorable in such a big jacket. You had no problem with leather jackets either, but this one specific Riki jacket made you look ridiculous. But there were people who had a bigger problem with it. Hwang Mihi.

Hwang Mihi would be described as a conventionally attractive, powder faced bitch. From her ridiculously rolled up short skirt, cakey makeup, and extremely bitchy personality. The girl had a problem with everyone and everything, specifically you. She's heard more people praise you than they praise her, you have more followers than her, and overall, you have the man she wants. Nishimura Riki.

"Rikiiii please~ it'll look good on you I swear!" you whined as Riki frowned. "I'm not wearing lipstick!" the man whined as you whined again "It's not a lipstick! it's a lip gloss stick it's not like you'll turn in to barbie with one swipe, idols wear this you know?" you reasoned as he sighed, leaning into you face. With a smile, you carefully applied the creamy, lip gloss stick, his eyes locked on your focused face, the close proximity making his heart beat faster than Usain Bolt ever ran. It fucking pissed Mihi off.

"How the fuck does a pink barbie carbon copy like you have MY man?!" She yelled, yanking at your braided hair, her tug so tight you had to bite her wrist to get out of her hold. "UGH U PASTE FACED FUCKER- U RUINED MY BRAID!" you yelled as suddenly a different person slapped the shit out of you. You could've sworn your brain left your body then entered it again. your head hit the wall behind you painfully hard, but as you pulled away to even process the first slap, you were painfully pushed up against the wall, and there before you was a much bigger male.

"You're such a pussy! you can't fight me yourself so you're using some guy who's dick you sucked?!!!" she asked, clearly knowing the man was one of the seniors that she used to be fwb with. Just for that, the male slapped her again, chocking her. "It's that fucking tongue isn't it?! If I rip it out you'll stop talking right?" Mihi asked as you frowned. "I have another way to silence her..." the male said with a smirk, his grip on your throat tightening as he tried to place his lips on hers.

Before his lips could even reach her lips, The male fell back, some of his teeth knocked out, his mouth bloody. "The fuck are you doing to my girlfriend?!!!" Riki asked as y/n stared at him in shock, heck even the girls were shook, they were fucking scared, never has Mihi ever seen her crush so pissed off, it was fucking scary. "J-just uh..." "Just what?! beating my future wife?! do u want to be scalped and dipped into lemon juice?!!!" He asked cracking his knuckles as the girl stuttered and ran off with her minions.

Riki didn't even get the chance to check on you, as your horrified scream filled the hallways. "Fuck y/n how bad did he hurt you?" he asked, kneeling down before you as you stared at your forehand in horror "MY NAIL SNAPPED! SO LONG OF HARD WORK BROKE JUST LIKE THAT." she exclaimed as Riki stood up, sighing. "I'll take that as a yes" he mumbled.

"Girlfriend? Future wife? what was that about?" you asked staring up at him as he smiled "I guess you called call it my confession..." he said as you frowned "Try again" you said as Riki snickerred "Y/n... I love you, and I want to fucking show you that everyday, so give me a chance baby" he said as you blinked. She felt her own blush, he's perfect, everything she needed, but never did she think your dream man would love you.

"Hmm but what if I don't want to?" you teased. as Riki helped you up "My sister knows a great nail tech, she's expensive but worth the price, how bout you treat your pretty hands for some prettier nails, and I'll pay all the expenses?" he asked as the girl pouted. "You don't need to bribe me like that... let me do it instead." You said, then kissed his lips, his eyes widening in shock as you smiled. "Lets skip school im gonna treat you to the best shopping spree you'd ever experience." He said as his arm snaked around your waist.

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

[tsunami-of-tears]

ACOTAR males reacting to Reader’s piercings

Cassian, Azriel, Lucien, Eris & Rhys

A/N: I have a lot of piercings and thought this would be fun ♡ In my case with the nips they got LESS sensitive (thank goodness honestly) but I know a lot of people have the opposite happen. I have also decided that since they have fae blood - the piercings would heal much quicker and therefore they can do the nasty the same/next day.

Warnings: sexual themes (kinda smutty - especially the last one); piercings featured: ears, belly button, nipples and female genital.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧

Cassian - Belly Button

Cassian LOVES your stomach!

Especially after you’ve given him children. He always takes the time to kiss every stretch mark and worship you… 

You didn’t tell him about your plans for your piercing, deciding to surprise him. 

He’s about to ravish you when he lifts your top… His eyes go straight to the red gem at your navel and they light up.

“Babe is that sore?” “A little, but it’s so pretty right?” He strokes your tummy and kisses it all over. “I didn’t think I could like this any more than I already did… I need you,” he lifts you, you wrap your legs around his waist and he carries you to bed.

Azriel - Nipples 

He saw them your first time together, he had the biggest smirk on his face as his fingers felt them through your shirt. 

He looks at you with a raised brow, slowly peeling off your shirt before taking your nipple in his mouth.

They’ve been much more sensitive since they got pierced, so you start squirming as soon as he touches them. 

He delights in toying with you and gives them lots of attention - always licking/sucking/softly biting/pinching/pulling.

And then when the shadows play too? They feel so cold as they swirl over your skin - your nipples get so hard it’s almost painful (in a good way). 

Outside of the bedroom, Azriel would love it when you don't wear a bra and he can see the outline of your jewellery through whatever you’re wearing. He probably gets a bit jealous if you go out with them visible without him, but he’d be so proud of his hot partner and showing you off. 

Lucien - Ears 

Lucien would have multiple earrings, and maybe even an eyebrow piercing on the opposite side of his scar. 

Of course, all his jewellery is gold and he swaps them out to match his outfits. He’s so stylish and you love that, always admiring him. 

You have your lobe piercing, but you want more. You finally decide to get some yourself, not telling Lucien. 

You come home from your appointment and wait for him to notice. 

Lucien is instantly by your side to greet you, he goes to kiss your cheek and stops when he sees the glinting gems and metals adorning your ear.

He smiles so wide, gently taking you in and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “My love, what did you get up to today?” He asks. “I got some more earrings, do you like them?” “They look beautiful, Y/N.” He traces the tip of your pointed ear sending a shiver down your spine. “But you are the most exquisite gem of all.”

After your new piercings heal - Lucien will help you pick out new pieces and change the jewellery for you.

When you attend formal events together, he loves matching with you and takes pride in the subtle details. You always make a handsome couple, but no one appreciates your beauty more than Lucien.

Eris - Nipples

You didn’t always have them, but it was something you’ve thought about for many years.

The man loves titties, especially yours.

When he sees your new bling for the first time, you’re in the bath and he comes to join you after a long day. 

He’ll slip in behind you and wrap his hands around you. He’ll squeeze your breasts in appreciation. They always feel nice, but they feel different today. He spins you around in his lap to get a look. 

“Cauldron boil me, you are going to be the death of me, Y/N.”

Eris will kiss all over you, completely worshipping you, and it’s not long until most of the bath water ends up on the floor.

Rhys - Female Genital 

Rhys always calls you cute star-themed pet names - so it was only fitting to add some sparkle to his favourite part.  

Rhys would be taking his time, loving every inch of you as he strips you down slowly. 

When that last piece of fabric is removed, he is straight on his knees. 

Of course the gem you picked is violet. Rhys looks very smug as he goes down on you - his eyes flicking between the stone and your face. 

He would send images of you writhing under his touch down the bond, so you get a good view of your newest adornment. 

Rhys was already completely obsessed with you, and seeing that colour marked you as his in a new way. From then on he loved taking you in any position that gave him the best view… 

Help I wanna get this piercing now 

[tenelkadjowrites]

Everyday at the Bus Stop ♡ - Seonghwa x Reader (NSFW)

🚌 Summary: Your crush on fellow passenger, Seonghwa, changes into something new the day the bus breaks down.

🚌 Word count: 9k

🚌 Genre and warnings: one shot smut. fem pronouns for reader. oral sex. unprotected sex. creampie. 

🚌 Tags: @thewonderofkpop - @obligatoryidolblog - @yunhofingers - @foggyinternetchaos - @multiland - @whatudowhennooneseesyou - @jess-1404 - @just-here-to-read-01 - @likexaxdaydream - @senpai-of-doom - @lilhwahwa - @btsreader12 - @talkbykhalid - @hwasrie-main - @inneratinyrebel - @8tinytings - @cherrypandora - @xirenex - sorry if i missed anyone.

this fic is not meant to represent seonghwa in any way, shape or form.

Monday

              You glance at the time on your phone, tapping your foot impatiently. Having already been sitting on the bus for over an hour, you are anxious to get home from work. The day is endless, your feet hurt, and all you want to do was crawl into bed.

               But of course the bus, which moved at the glacial pace of a snail on a good day, now found itself stuck in traffic. Slumping lower in your seat, you exhale slowly, rummaging through your bag to find your headphones. This ride is more boring than usual because he isn’t here, you think sullenly. You aren’t sure how many other people had a Bus Crush to pass away the time but yours didn’t show up today.

               You wonder if he’s sick. Or maybe something worse – he got a different job and didn’t have to take this bus any longer. That would be just your luck. In the past year, he had been at your bus stop every evening. His stop was somewhere after yours because he remained when you left.

               Bus Crush was gorgeous, the sort of ethereal beauty that seemed to exist only in magazines, not public transportation. He would sit down in the same spot every trip, pull out a book and read quietly to himself. No headphones to block out the drone of the bus, just taking the full brunt of the loud engine and traffic noises himself. He usually wore some of the most stylish, well put together clothes you’ve ever seen. His hair was as black as his painted nails. He typically wore one silver earring that would dangle and sway with each bump of the bus, occasionally catching the evening light. His jaw, well defined as if cut from marble, matched his equally picturesque cheekbones and his lips were always perfectly plump and a nice shade of pink. You knew literally nothing about him, not even his name.

               But you knew he was gorgeous, you knew he was the hottest person you’ve ever seen, and you knew that if he ever glanced in your general direction, you would probably faint on the spot.

               Still…not having him around made the bus trip worse than usual.

               With a small sigh, you close your eyes, hit play on the music and try to zone out.

 Tuesday

               You recognize his silhouette before he even comes into clear view. He is standing at the bus stop, waiting patiently for it to arrive. Today, he wears a coat made of a thin pale blue material with his hands shoved into the pockets, his face tilted in the direction of where the bus would pop into view. The other people at the spot vanish in front of your eyes as relief hits you that he is here today and yesterday had been a fluke. Maybe he really was sick or something, you think, shuffling towards the overhang, sneaking an extra glance at him.

               Bus Crush doesn’t notice but an older lady that is at the stop every Tuesday and Thursday does, ducking her head to hide her smile. Fine, so maybe it is evident to other people that you are admiring him but as long as he never notices you exist, does it matter? Such beauty like his is impenetrable anyway.

               The bus arrives on time and you trail in after Bus Crush just to catch a little bit of his cologne which always smells faintly of the woods. You wonder what he does all day, you wonder why he is always on the stop just like you. You know the answer is most likely something benign like work or school but some days your imagination gets away from you, resulting in fantastic scenarios being created.

               All the regulars slip into the usual spots. If one of their spots is taken, they simply take the one closest to it. Your seat is near the window but also offers a good view of Bus Crush’s profile. Sinking down into your seat, you watch as Bus Crush pulls the book out of his coat pocket. His thin and slender fingers find the bookmark, opening to the page. The book is well worn as if it has been read a thousand times.

               Things are back to normal. Bus Crush has returned to his spot, reading quietly, and you are in yours, sneaking glances at him. Just how it should be.

 Wednesday

               All you want to do is get home and go to sleep. Having slept badly the night before, work today killed the little spirit remaining. That explains why, when your bus stop comes around, you scamper out of your seat, anxious to get home.

               It also explains why you aren’t paying attention to much, including your things. You are almost at the exit of the bus when a voice slices through the sound of the bus engine idling.

               “Wait, miss,” Someone calls out and you hesitate, slowing down and glancing over your shoulder.

               To your amazement, it is Bus Crush speaking. At first, the idea that his words are directed at you seem ridiculous. Why would he talk to you now? But as he moves forward, it hits like brunt force to the chest that he is looking at you.

               He wears a black button up with a small black jacket today, the silver earring dangling with each step. His shoes are polished, same with the silver belt buckle wrapped around his slender waist. Dazed, you watch as Bus Crush stops in front of you. He is saying something but your brain feels as if it has been submerged underwater and everything is hazy.

               “What?” You manage to say, trying not to focus on the fact that his skin is literally perfect – how the hell does he manage that feat?

               Bus Crush looks downward and your gaze follows. In the palm of his hand is your cellphone.

               “You left this behind in your seat,” He repeats himself.

               How are his eyelashes that long? Your brain is refusing to cooperate, leaving you to languish in front of the most intense crush you’ve ever had in your life. You can’t deal with the fact you are standing this close to Bus Crush or that he is speaking directly to you.

               He raises his eyes to meet yours. The gaze is electric and the seconds turn into hours. Gone is the bus noise, the vibrations underneath your feet, the tinny music being blasted out of someone’s headphones, the sounds of someone talking way too loudly on the phone. The entire universe is now located at this very spot.

               “T-thanks,” You manage to say, reaching for your cellphone.

               “No problem,” He replies – his voice is deeper than you thought it would be, sexier than it needed to be. Couldn’t the universe cut you a break in some area and make his voice sound like a chipmunk or something?

               You take your phone out of his hand. Your fingers brush against his warm skin, marveling at how soft it is before it all becomes too much – Bus Crush looking at you with an expression that is unreadable, the fact you are convinced your adoration of him is written all over your face, and the bus driver staring daggers at you for holding things up.

               “Thanks,” You repeat, taking a step back and then turning around, fleeing the bus as if it were on fire, leaving Bus Crush behind.

               It isn’t until halfway down the block you realize that in order for him to notice your phone had been left behind, he would have needed to be paying attention to you.

 Thursday

               He isn’t coming today, you think while staring at the bus doors which are going to close at any second. You don’t know if it is relief or disappointment that you’re feeling about Bus Crush not being here again this week. The interaction from yesterday has been playing in your mind repeatedly even when you wish that it wouldn’t. Just why are you dwelling on two seconds of attention from Bus Crush makes you feel embarrassed –

               And then, right as the doors are about to close, Bus Crush hurries through, apologizing to the driver. He is clutching his bag to his chest, slightly out of breath from running. His cheeks are flushed with colour, lips parted a little. Today, a black and white checkered coat hangs off his shoulders, wearing a black button up with silver buttons and a pair of slacks. A thin silver chain is around his dainty neck and a small black hat rests on his head. As usual, he looks too stylish and well put together for the setting but doesn’t seem to be aware of it.

               His eyes land on you. Something flickers across his face and his shoulders straighten as if coming to a decision. Then he walks down the aisle – and doesn’t stop at his seat. Instead, he stops in front of yours.

               “Would it be okay to sit next to you?”

               Confused, all you do is gawk at him. His seat is available. Why does he want to sit next to you? But the bus driver is glowering as the doors close so you nod hastily, squeezing out of the seat to allow Bus Crush to move into the middle seat.

               Plopping back down, acutely aware that at some point in time you have entered The Twilight Zone, you stare at the back of the seat in front of you. Bus Crush puts his bag down in the window seat, taking his hat off and shaking it out, running his fingers through his black hair.

               “Work ran late cuz of a meeting,” He says – to you, apparently, seeing as he angles his body slightly towards yours, “Almost missed the bus.”

               What the fuck is going on? You wonder. Did I fall today and this is all some dream from a really bad concussion? Why is he talking to me as if this is normal?

               Something must show in your face because Bus Crush ducks his head, a little embarrassed, and extends his hand. “Sorry. I’m Seonghwa. Sometimes I forget we haven’t talked because I see you everyday at the bus stop.”

               You automatically reach for his hand, driven by pure societal instincts, and are floored by the sensation of his skin against yours. In fact, it is so overwhelming that the handshake lasts approximately the length of your name before you pull away.

               Bus Crush, no wait, Seonghwa leans back in the seat, his hat resting in his lap. You struggle to find something to say but it is hard to wrap your head around the fact that he is sitting there talking to you. His fingers curl around the hat almost as if he is nervous himself but that would be impossible. His fingernails, still painted black, match the hat as he absentmindedly rubs the fabric a little.

               “You, uh, usually read, right?” You say and immediately regret it. Talk about plastering a big neon sign over your head that you watch him on the bus. You want to facepalm or maybe melt onto the floor but instead you just remain expressionless. Wow, nailed it, you think sarcastically.

               Seonghwa’s eyes widen ever so slightly as he nods. “I do, yeah. It’s about the only time I can get any reading done.”

               “I can hardly focus on this thing. That’s why I just listen to music.”

               “Well, don’t let me stop you,” He gestures towards your bag, “I’m content just to read.”

               Next to me? You want to ask but don’t. Bus Crush – damnit, Seonghwa – reaches into his own bag and pulls out the book. It is strange to watch the same process of him opening to his bookmark, long fingers skimming the pages to locate it before settling in his usual position to read.

               The world feels a bit off kilter. Seonghwa is meant to be in his usual spot, not knowing you exist. But here he is, next to you, reading his book quietly. You are trying not to stare but it is proving difficult. The curve of his nose, his jawline, those plump lips –

               Looking away before he catches you gawking at him, you rummage around in your bag for the headphones. Honestly, you don’t want to listen to music but what is the alternative? Staring at him? You want to ask why he is sitting next to you today but you don’t know what sort of answer would make you happy. It is easier to sit in silence than probe the strangeness of today.

               Settling in with the music on, you slump back in the seat. It is impossible not to look at Seonghwa. Your eyes are attracted to him like a magnet. You mentally tick off the new information you have learned about him the last couple of days: what his voice sounds like, what his hands feel like, the fact he works in an office, his name.

               The ride continues like this until your stop arrives. The act of shoving your headphones in your bag draws Seonghwa’s attention. He looks over at you.

               “Don’t forget your phone,” He reminds you gently.

               “Ah, right. I think I was just anxious to get home yesterday. Wasn’t thinking clearly.”

               The bus comes to a stop and you stand up, looking down at Seonghwa. His expression is open, trusting and directed strictly at you. The butterflies in your stomach threaten a riot.

               “See you tomorrow?” You venture, the words sitting here next to me unsaid and hanging in the air.

               He nods, smiling pleasantly. “See you tomorrow.”

               You turn around, exhaling slowly to try to calm down your wild heartbeat, exiting the bus and leaving Seonghwa behind.

 Friday

               Seonghwa isn’t late tonight. He is already at the bus stop when you arrive. He stands straight, his bag strap resting on one shoulder. He wears black slacks with the belt resting on his hips with a thin white button up dress shirt, the top two buttons undone, exposing some of his chest. A black ribbon is gently tied around his neck, forming a small bow on the side opposite of where his silver earring dangles.

               Seonghwa looks beautiful, statuesque and stylish in his outfit as usual. He seems to sense your arrival, turning his head in your direction as you approach. He gives a small wave, his smile showing off his perfectly white teeth.

               “Hi,” You say sheepishly, having not expected Seonghwa to greet you immediately.

               “How are you?”

               “Oh, I’m okay. A little tired. You?”

               “The same.”

               The conversation stalls. He is just looking at you now. Was it your turn to say something? What is there to say? You aren’t sure what is going on between you and Seonghwa. All you can tell is something is shifting, the dynamic turning into…friendship? No, it is too awkward for that. Could it be more than friendship? No, that’s your false hope speaking. For whatever reason, the two second conversation when Seonghwa stopped you from forgetting your phone has altered the dynamic of staring at him as he read his book, knowing he didn’t know you existed. Now, not only did he know but he seemingly wanted to engage.

               The bus pulls up then, saving you the embarrassment of asking a silly question just to fill the air. Everyone piles in, going to their respective spots – except Seonghwa, who sits next to you once again. As usual, he brings his book out, opening it up to read. You want to strike up a conversation about the book but don’t people hate being interrupted when they read? Seonghwa had stated this was the only time he got to read so why take that away from him?

               But you are spared bothering him because instead of reading right away, he asks, “Do you work around here then?”

               “I do, yeah. I just can’t afford a car so I take the bus. You said you work in an office nearby right?”

               Seonghwa looks a little embarrassed as he replies, “I don’t know how to drive. I’ve tried. I just get…a lot of anxiety and psych myself out. But it’s only a ten minute walk from the stop to the office I’m at so I figured it works out.”

               “What sort of work do you do there?”

               He makes a face. “It’s in accounting. It’s not very interesting. A lot of numbers day in and day out. You?”

               “I work as a receptionist at a medical office. It’s about as dull as I assume accounting is,” You realize what you said and immediately begin to backtrack, “Not that accounting is boring. I mean, for you. And the others working there.”

               Seonghwa laughs quietly, shaking his head. His earring swings, catching the light and glimmering. Your heart constricts at his laugh.

               “It’s okay. I did say it’s not very interesting, didn’t I?”

               You relax slightly, glad that you didn’t offend him. But before you can say anything else, there is a horrible grinding noise from the bus as it comes to a stop. The bus jostles hard and you are tossed against Seonghwa. His hand goes to your waist as you gasp in surprise.

               Up this close, you can smell his faint cologne. One of your hands is on his thigh, gripping it to steady yourself, your other hand flat against his chest. The sudden close proximity of Seonghwa, who used to be a distant figure on the daily bus rides, makes your brain buzz.

               His hand moves to your lower back, his voice dropping as he murmurs, “You okay?”

               “Yeah,” You say quickly, pushing away from Seonghwa, flustered from both accidently falling all over him and the way your heart is hammering in your chest.

               “Well,” Seonghwa remarks dryly, “Whatever that was, it didn’t sound good.”

                 He ends up being correct. The bus has broken down and everyone is shuffled off to the sidewalk. Standing there awkwardly, you watch as smoke rises from the back of the bus. People are mumbling, complaining, demanding to know when they can get home. Not that you want to be the bearer of bad news but you doubt it will be anytime soon, knowing how the public transit system runs even on a good day.

               After around twenty minutes, the driver announces another bus will come by to finish the route in an hour. Cue more grumbling. It is then that Seonghwa nudges you gently.

               “Do you wanna walk instead?”

               You blink, looking at him. The sun has dipped below the horizon, the final sprays of orange cast across the sky. In the hue of the approaching evening, Seonghwa’s skin looks luminescent and beautiful.

               Your distraction by his appearance must make you come off as hesitant because he suddenly looks nervous and keeps talking. “You get off the bus at the stop before mine. So we must live sorta close to one another. I can walk you home. You and I both know it’ll be faster than waiting around here.”

               The truth is that you desperately want to agree immediately. You’d walk halfway across the entire city if Seonghwa asked you, that’s how down bad you are for him. It is embarrassing to admit. But you also don’t want to have him walk too far out of the way and make his long night even longer.

               Pulling out your phone, you bring up the GPS app. “Put your address in so we can make sure you’re not going too far out of your way.”

               “I really don’t mind,” He says but takes your phone, inputting his address.

               You do so afterwards, taking note that he is only a twenty minute walk from your place. The guilt erased, you agree to walking home with Seonghwa instead of waiting around for a new bus. Your heart is beating hard, making it difficult to keep your cool around him. Without the buffer of the bus and other people, it is the first time you’ve been alone with him.

               Seonghwa walks with ease, occasionally checking his phone to make sure you’re both walking in the right direction. The temperature is starting to drop as the evening rolls in. Earlier in the day it had been quite stuffy and neither of you have jackets. Now, you are regretting the choice.

               But if Seonghwa is bothered by the cold creeping in, he doesn’t show it even though his button up appears thin. You trace the outline of the fabric against his skin, the way the ribbon is tied around his neck –

               “What is it?” He asks, tilting his face to look at you.

               “N-nothing,” You look away, pretending to be fascinated with a ramshackle looking gas station you’re walking by.

               Why is starting a conversation with him so difficult? Maybe the two of you have nothing in common and you’re just blinded by your physical attraction to him. Conversations are supposed to be effortless, right? That’s how you gauge attraction to someone. Everyone else you’ve either liked or crushed on had conversations flow pretty easily. But with Seonghwa, you’re so caught up in the intensity of the attraction and the depth of longing that your brain seems to stall like the bus earlier.

               “You’re pretty quiet,” Seonghwa observes, startling you from your brooding, “Are you naturally quiet or do I make you nervous?”

               Surprised, you stop walking. Seonghwa notices after a couple of steps, hesitating and then turning around to face you. It is at the point in time that the sign for the gas station flicks on, bathing Seonghwa in red and yellow light. On anyone else, it would look garish. But Seonghwa’s black hair soaks it up, and the neon drapes across him like a luxurious blanket.

               “Why would you make me nervous?” You deflect, worried that he has figured out you have a gigantic crush on him.

               “I’m sorry, I was just teasing. I don’t actually think I -” A car drives by blasting music at an obnoxious volume, drowning out whatever Seonghwa said after.

               “Sorry, what was that?”

               “I said that I don’t actually think I make you nervous,” He bites his bottom lip for a moment and then leans forward.

               Rooted to the spot, you can only stare at Seonghwa as he brings his hand up –

               To brush something off your shoulder. Your stomach swoops, locking eyes with him. He studies your face for a moment, his gaze lingering a beat too long on your lips.

               “You had a stray leaf on your shoulder,” He remarks softly. It should be impossible to hear him over the cars driving by yet somehow you do and it feels intimate. “Are you cold? You’re trembling a bit,” Another pause and then, “Unless I do make you nervous.”

               “Why would you make me nervous?” You say quickly, too quickly and Seonghwa’s eyebrows shoot up for a moment before it dawns on you that he is just teasing again.

               Somehow more flustered than before, you take off walking again. Your cheeks are warm and the cold does nothing to help. Seonghwa catches up with you.

               “Sorry, I was just – I was just kidding. I don’t mean to joke so much, it’s just a sort of defense mechanism –”

               Confused, you immediately go, “For what?”

               He falls silent, avoiding your gaze. The two of you walk past a restaurant that is bustling with the Friday night crowd and the scent of food makes your stomach grumble. A breeze kicks up, ruffling the ribbon around Seonghwa’s delicate neck when he finally replies.

               “Well, I just see you every day. At the bus stop and on the ride home. We sit near one another. But I don’t know you at all. You just feel familiar, you know? I guess cuz I see you every day. I want to make a good impression on you and I don’t want to embarrass myself.”

               His words take you by surprise. The honesty in his words is evident by the way he can’t seem to look at you. But you relax a bit, comforted by the fact that you aren’t the only one feeling flustered.

               “You could fall in front of me and it wouldn’t be embarrassing,” You remark, pointing to the sidewalk, “I mean, really just eat shit with your bag flying in the air and spilling everywhere. And it wouldn’t be embarrassing.”

               At this, Seonghwa laughs and shakes his head. “Now you’re lying. You would definitely laugh!”

               “Whoa, I didn’t say that I wouldn’t laugh. I just meant you wouldn’t have to be embarrassed,” Your tone softens, “There’s no pressure besides what we place on ourselves. I mean…I feel nervous talking to you too.”

               The two of you stop at a crosswalk, the don’t walk sign flashing as the cars zoom by. Seonghwa looks at you steadily.

               “How come?” He asks.

               “Well, it’s like you said. I see you every day. It’s like you’re a familiar face but I don’t actually know you. What if I make an ass out of myself and I have to see you on the bus every evening?”

               Okay, fine. You’re lying a bit. Yeah, your concern is real. But a huge reason for your nerves is that you’ve been crushing on him for so long. To suddenly be talking to Seonghwa, having him tease you, taking a walk home with him – it is a lot. You don’t want to mess anything up.

               The traffic stops, the light changes and the two of you cross the street as Seonghwa goes, “If anything goes sideways, I’ll…sit at the back or something so you don’t have to see me. We’ll make it as easy as possible.”

               “That won’t help. I’ll just feel you back there, staring at me.”

               “You think I sit around and stare at you while on the bus?”

               You are about to be embarrassed but this time you catch Seonghwa’s tone and point at him. “You’re teasing me again.”

               Seonghwa grins and shrugs. “Maybe a little.” That is when your stomach grumbles again, louder this time and he notices. He slows down, scanning the places around you. “Want to grab something to eat?”

               Why has the universe decided to gift you with (almost) every one of your fantasies in one evening?

               “Sure,” You say, “I haven’t eaten since lunch. Didn’t think I’d be walking home today.”

               “What about that place over there?”

               He points to a small nondescript place that seems to have less of a crowd than the other restaurants. You nod in agreement and in the next few minutes, the two of you arrive, are seated and looking at the menus. The place has a few people inside, mostly couples, and between the dim lighting and candles on each table, it dawns on you that this place is where you’d go on a date. But there’s no way Seonghwa would have known that when he picked it, you think sternly, so don’t get any ideas.

               As Seonghwa is engrossed in the menu, you pretend to be studying yours. In reality, you are sneaking glances of him. Some of his black hair has fallen in front of his eyes, his lips parted slightly as he focuses on the menu. Your eyes linger on the ribbon around his neck. There is a brief vivid mental image of giving it a sharp tug and pulling him in to kiss you.

               The picture jolts you to look away and stare at the menu instead. Of course, you’ve admired Seonghwa on the bus for awhile now. To say you haven’t thought about what it would be like to kiss him…and more…would be a lie. But you’ve been trying not to think about that stuff since he’s started talking to you out of paranoia it will show all over your face.

               But now you are aware of Seonghwa’s gaze shifting. His eyes are on you, he is studying your face. You pretend not to notice. If it were anyone else on the planet, you would entertain the idea that this person is interested in you. But it feels too good to be true that Seonghwa, formally known as Bus Crush, would be attracted to you.

               You raise your eyes a little, catching his stare. He immediately looks embarrassed, biting his bottom lip and looking at the menu as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world. Your stomach swoops. Somehow, his earlier teasing no longer seems like it is a defense mechanism but an indication of something more.

               The server comes by for your drink orders. Seonghwa orders a simple coffee. When the server leaves, he leans back in his seat. Another mental image: you’re in his lap, kissing him as his hands press against your lower back. You brush it away quickly, begging your brain to control itself.

               But it is proving difficult. Seonghwa, in his chic outfit combined with his pretty features, is proving too beautiful to be around for this long. Your thighs clench at the idea of him touching you. See, this was why he had always remained a crush. You’re quickly losing control of yourself around him.

               “What are you thinking about?”

               “Nothing,” The denial rolls off your tongue too hastily, “Sorry, did I look spaced?”

               “You were staring at me.”

               “I was not.”

               Your body is hot all over. You wish he would stop looking at you like that. But then you also wish he would never stop looking at you like that. His arm is outstretched along the back of booth, one leg crossed. The position is casual, one that people sit in constantly. But on Seonghwa, there is something sensual about it. Maybe it is the way the shirt rests against his chest, those two buttons undone and winking coyly in the restaurant lighting. Or maybe it is the manner in which his other hand rests on the table, painted fingernails tapping lightly against the menu. It could even be that ribbon around his neck that is begging to be pulled on. Whatever the reason, you’re distantly aware that you are turned on just from being around him.

               The server brings the drinks over. Seonghwa leans forward, his hands curling around the warm coffee mug. You feel something brush against your leg underneath the table. With a jolt, you realize it is Seonghwa pressing his leg against yours. Your breath catches.

               Seonghwa lowers his voice to a whisper, “I only noticed because I’m staring too.”

               Then he leans back once more, blowing on his coffee to cool it off as if he isn’t flirting with you, as if he isn’t making your head spin.

               His leg remains against yours the entire meal.

                 After dinner, the walk resumes. The temperature has dropped considerably. As the two of you turn away from the main hub of the city and into the residential districts, the noise of the cars and people in the bars and restaurants begins to fade.

               At some point, Seonghwa has looped his arm around your waist to pull you close.

               “It’s cold,” He remarks while doing so even though his body feels warm enough to you, “I didn’t bring a jacket today.”

               Your brain is too muddled to speak and you opt for silence. There is something pleasant about being this close to Seonghwa, almost making you feel delirious with desire.

               Seonghwa is in the middle of telling you a story involving him and his best friend, Hongjoong, who is his roommate as well. His tone is bright, occasionally laughing as he recalls the events. You listen attentively, finding comfort in the lull and pitch of his voice.

               There is also something else that is bubbling to the surface since dinner: tension. You can feel it in the way Seonghwa held the door open for you while exiting the restaurant, the weight of his hand lightly touching the curve of your lower back when a group of people clustered the sidewalk, in every glance he shoots your way and the way you’re pulled together now. It seems absurd and too good to be true to believe the attraction is mutual but the last thing you plan to do is look good fortune in the mouth and refute it.

               You’re almost at your apartment now. Neither of you remarks that it would have technically been faster to wait for the bus once the time for dinner is included. But perhaps it was never about what was going to be quicker. Maybe it was just about finding an excuse to be around one another because it is looking as though you weren’t the only one with a bus crush.

               “It’s this way,” You say after Seonghwa finishes up the story.

               The apartment complex is two stories, unremarkable in its appearance. Your place is on the bottom floor, all the way to the right. There are no lights on which means your roommate is still too swept up in her new boyfriend. She tends to spend every weekend with him.

               Stopping in front of the door, you turn to face Seonghwa who has shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks. Are you dreaming or are his cheeks slightly pink? It could just be from the cold or it could be because he’s thinking along the same path as you.

               “Thanks for walking me home. And for dinner,” You hesitate, wondering if you’re going to take the leap. That’s typically unlike you but given the way the night has unfolded…

               “It’s no problem. Thanks for keeping me company,” Seonghwa replies.

               You swallow nervously and then go, “My roommate is gone for the weekend. She’s at her boyfriends,” The words linger in the air and you mentally push yourself off the cliff, “Do you wanna come inside?”

               Something sparks behind Seonghwa’s eyes, a look of half surprise and half desire. “Y-yeah, I’d like that. I mean, to warm up. Before I walk back home.”

               “Right, of course. It’s chilly out here,” You turn your back to him, unlocking the door and exhaling slowly.

               You can hardly believe that the week started with Seonghwa just being your crush to now standing in the living room of your tiny apartment. He looks so out of place, standing there in his stylish clothes like some sort of elegant prince as he gingerly places his bag on the coffee table.

               “Do you want something to drink?” You offer, looking to fill the silence that threatens to shift back to some sort of awkwardness.

               “Oh, some water, thanks.”

               He trails after you into the kitchen which is so small that it can barely fit both you and Seonghwa. You wonder if your nerves are evident; you’ve never invited someone in before with the expressed intention of making a move. But even though you’re good at ignoring signs that someone might be interested, it feels impossible to ignore the signals Seonghwa has given you all night.

               You turn around to hand him the glass of water which he takes a sip of. He is close enough to touch and the warmth radiating from his body is making your thoughts muddled. When Seonghwa puts the glass down carefully on the counter, he trails one finger along the rim slowly. His gaze on you is heavy and when he swallows, the ribbon bobs slightly. It’s enough to push you over the edge.

               Reaching upwards, you grab onto the ribbon, tugging on it so hard that it brings Seonghwa towards your body. He presses against you, his gasp muffled as your lips crush his. The kiss is like an electric shock in a rain shower – you can feel it from the top of your scalp to the tip of your toes. It wipes out everything that came before it: all the sneaky glances on the bus, all the times you admired his appearance, the small touch when you took your phone from him, down to the way he looked at you during dinner.

               Seonghwa’s hands wrap around your waist as the kiss deepens. He tastes faintly like coffee and the scent of his faded cologne is enough to make your head swim. The desire that you have so carefully kept locked away in all the months of admiring him threatens to topple over and spill out across all your senses, blocking rational thought.

               Seonghwa pulls away, his forehead resting against yours. His breathing has grown heavy as if the sheer force of the kiss has knocked him off kilter. You want to reassure him that the feeling is mutual but your tongue isn’t working properly.

               “Do I make you nervous?” He echoes his words from earlier, his voice barely above a whisper.

               “At first, yeah. Right now, no.” Your fingers trail down along the buttons of his shirt, feeling their coldness against your skin.

               “Why not?”

               You can feel him growing hard in his pants against your leg and your hand travels downward, grazing across the fabric. Seonghwa sharply inhales, eyes closing for a moment as you rub his cock through his pants.

               “Cuz I think we both want the same thing,” You murmur, marveling at how you’re not lying – the earlier nerves and anxieties about him have vanished in the intensity of your desire and realizing he is also interested.

               He brings his face to your neck, kissing along your skin. Each touch is as soft as a feather, making you shiver. Seonghwa nips at your neck lightly with his teeth as you press your hand down harder against his groin. He moves his lips up to your ear so he can whisper.

               “Like I said earlier, anything goes sideways, I’ll sit at the back. You won’t have to see me.”

               “Now you’re just being mean.”

               You can feel Seonghwa smile against your skin before his lips find yours again. This kiss is deeper, his tongue in your mouth while his hands slide down to grip your ass. As the kissing grows more urgent, the two of you are stumbling towards the bedroom now. Luckily, your room is right next to the kitchen, making it a quick escape into your slightly messy room.

               But if Seonghwa notices that not everything is as organized as it should be, he doesn’t seem to care. His hands are roaming across your body, each touch deadened by your clothes. The next kiss, you bite down slightly on his bottom lip which makes him groan. The sound is like music, making you want more of it, more of him.

               It wasn’t that you’re submissive in bed, it’s that you’ve been mostly alright with someone else taking the lead. But with Seonghwa, the dynamic is something new to you. Your earlier nerves have been replaced by such an overwhelming need for him that you find it easier to take charge. But Seonghwa follows without question, leading you to believe he isn’t one to take the lead to begin with. Better for you then.

               Seonghwa removes your shirt, his hands deftly unclasping your bra and tossing it to the side. He cups your tits, squeezing them in his large, warm hands. Grazing his thumbs across your nipples, he brings his face forward and flicks his tongue across them. You run your hands through his hair as he does so, sucking on each one as if his life depended on it.

               When he finally stops, he kisses you again. This time, it is messy and slightly frantic as if the desire you both feel is not being sated even with the touches between one another. You are tugging the belt off his pants impatiently. Seonghwa gets the idea and removes them swiftly, his boxers following. His cock is rock hard, precum glistening at the tip, his balls already full with cum. The sight is enough to make you drool.

               You fumble with the buttons on his shirt but its taking too long. You make a noise of impatience after one button is unclasped. Seonghwa brushes your hands away and starts to undo the buttons – but even that is too slow and he looks annoyed.

               “I should’ve thought about my outfit more today but I didn’t think that this was how the day would end,” He mumbles, slight amusement evident in his voice.

               After what feels like eternity, Seonghwa shrugs out of his shirt, not caring as it lands on the floor. Naked in front of you, it hits your brain then that you’re actually going to fuck this man, the guy you’ve been admiring for ages. You run your fingers along his taunt stomach, feeling the hard muscles underneath.

               When Seonghwa goes to remove the ribbon around his neck though, you shake your head and his hands fall. You can’t explain why you want the ribbon to stay on but you just do. There is something nice about how it looks delicately wrapped around his slender neck. Once an accent to a stylish outfit, now it seems dirty to leave it on as the only thing adorning him. Something must show on your face because Seonghwa looks a little bashful.

               You gently push on his chest, indicating to get on the bed. You want to ride him, feel him buckle underneath you as his cock fills up your cunt. Against the pillows, Seonghwa strokes his cock, watching as you remove the rest of your clothes.

               Then you crawl onto the bed, stopping to move his hand away from his cock so that you can drag your tongue along his length. He grunts softly from the sudden pleasure as you take him in your mouth. He tastes like all your fantasies did and the way he fills your mouth with his girth is pleasing. Your lips are wrapped around the head of his cock, pressing your tongue against the tip. You bring one hand to his balls to fondle them, eliciting another groan of approval from Seonghwa.

               You stop then, not because you want to, but because your need to have him balls deep in your cunt is overwhelming. Straddling him, you position his head at your entrance and take Seonghwa easily from how wet you are. He curses quietly as sink down on his cock, lost in the warmth of your hole wrapped around him. Pressing your hands against his chest, you lean forward slightly to adjust the angle and begin to move your hips.

               Bouncing on his cock, you look down at Seonghwa underneath you. He looks as pretty as ever, you think, admiring him while taking his length deep in your cunt. His cheeks are flushed, eyes hazy with desire, lips parted as he moans.

               Reaching forward, your hand curls around the ribbon, giving you something to hold onto. Seonghwa grunts in approval. The speed in which you bounce increases and with each thrust downward of your hips, you pull on the ribbon a little. This seems to drive Seonghwa wild because his eyes close tightly, his ragged gasp sounding just as pretty as he looks.

               Eventually, you can’t put off your orgasm anymore. You lean back, resting your hands on his knees to try to take him faster and harder. Your head rolls back from pleasure, moaning out Seonghwa’s name. His hips jerk upwards, his hands holding onto your waist. With him holding you steady, you bring one hand forward to rub your clit. Strange to think just a few hours ago, you were waiting to see if Seonghwa would sit next to you on the bus. Now you’re taking his cock.

               The thought combined with him buried inside you and your fingers against your clit begins your climax. Bucking your hips down to take all of Seonghwa, you cum, tightening around his girth. His fingers dig into your hips as he bites down hard on his bottom lip. You know he is trying not to cum along with you.

               Your entire body is warm and tingling from the intense orgasm but you manage to slide off Seonghwa. He doesn’t waste any time in getting on top of you, wrapping your legs around his waist and sliding back into your cunt.

               Your hands find the ribbon once again, pulling hard on it so that he kisses you again. This kiss is all drool, lust and muffled curses as Seonghwa pumps his hips, driving his cock into you hard and fast. Each movement rocks your body, your arms wrapping around his neck to draw him as close as possible. You move your hips as best as you can to meet his thrusts which are already erratic.

               “In me,” You tell him in a pleading tone, “Finish in me.”

               Seonghwa pants, picking up his speed, needing to climax. Your hands are in his hair, your body entwined with his. His full balls smack against you with every thrust, endless curse words toppling from his mouth as his orgasm quickly approaches. He is desperate to cum now, burying his face in your neck as he chases his climax.

               And then he goes still, letting out a moan that is muffled against your skin. Seonghwa shudders as he begins his orgasm, his cock spilling his cum in your hole, filling you up with its warmth, coating your walls. He is panting as he empties his balls in you. You idly play with the ribbon around his neck as he finishes until he carefully pulls out and flops onto his back.

               Between all the walking and now the sex, exhaustion tugs on your brain. It is a little past eight at night, way too early to go to bed but your body refuses to listen. As your eyelids grow heavy, the last thing you think of is that you’re going to fall asleep next to Seonghwa.

 Saturday

               You jolt awake, confused and desperately needing some water. Propping yourself up, you groggily reach for your phone only to realize it’s not on the bedside table. How long have you been sleeping? It is still dark outside.

               Something shifts in your bed. You turn to the side and see Seonghwa there, sleeping on his side, his back to you. The memory wipes all the sleep still clinging to your brain as you remember the bus breaking down, walking for ages with him, having dinner and then fucking him like crazy.

               Not wanting to wake Seonghwa up, you carefully slide out of bed, padding into the kitchen to get some water. The clock says it’s nearing one in the morning. Talk about fucking up my sleeping schedule, you think, taking note of how awake you feel.

               When you come back into the bedroom, Seonghwa is rubbing his eyes groggily, sitting up a little. He had tossed the sheet over his lower half at some point during the night, leaving just his chest exposed. The sight of him with his messy hair, looking fucked out in your bed, is enough to make your mind spin.

               “Did I wake you?”

               “No, I had been already kinda waking up when I heard you get up,” He says, accepting the glass of water when you extend it to him before getting back in bed, “What time is it?”

               “A little after one.”

               He sighs. “I’ve totally fucked up my sleeping schedule.”

               You laugh, “Well, the feeling is mutual.”

               Seonghwa finishes the entire glass, putting it on the bedside table and then turning his attention to you. The room is dark, the only light from the tiny nightlight you have near the door.

               “Well,” He says softly, “I can think of worse ways to mess up my sleeping schedule.”

               Seonghwa brings his hand to your thigh, leaning forward and kissing you. The touch is soft, as if he isn’t sure if you would still want him after fucking earlier. You return the kiss eagerly but then break it off to laugh quietly.

               “What?” He asks, looking worried.

               You reach up for the ribbon around his neck, untying it. “I just realized you still had this on.”

               Seonghwa looks sheepish. “I have to admit I’ve never utilized my fashion accessories in sex before.”

               “And what did you think?”

               “I think I need more ribbons.”

               You laugh again as Seonghwa cups your face with one hand, grazing your cheek with his thumb. He draws you in for another kiss, his other hand roaming down your body. The desire stirs and awakens with the touch, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him down as you sink back into the pillows.

               Seonghwa shifts so that he is on top of you. The kiss deepens, he grows stiff against your thigh. Instinctively, you curl your legs around his waist, silently pleading for him to fuck you back to sleep. All your senses are consumed by Seonghwa; all you want is to have him inside you once again.

               But he teases you, refusing to enter right away. Instead, he moves his hips to grind his cock against your pussy while nipping at your lips with his teeth. You grow wet at the movements, your fingers digging into his skin in an attempt to urge him on.

               Your tongue is in his mouth, your body pressed against him so that you’re skin to skin, and your need for Seonghwa is overwhelming. It is like a hot current in your blood, fizzling just underneath the surface. And just when you think you’re going to crack and beg, Seonghwa enters in one swift motion, filling you up just how you need.

               Your moans topple into his mouth as he rocks his hips a little, just enough to hear how wet you are wrapped around his length. Then he untangles himself from you, bringing your feet to rest on his shoulders as he picks up his pace. His hips jerk hard, driving his cock all the way inside your cunt. The angle somehow feels better than fucking him earlier did.

               And Seonghwa looks good, his hair a sleepy mess, moaning and cursing, skin slightly flushed. You like the way his slender waist moves as he fucks you, his pumps steady and increasing speed as the pleasure grows. He brings one hand down and pinches your nipple, switching to the other one when your moan lets him know you like it before grabbing your tits in both hands and squeezing them.

               Seonghwa doesn’t stop fucking you. Even though it is late and you should keep in mind your neighbor is trying to sleep, the two of you are making too much noise. Each jerk of his hips slaps his balls against your skin, Seonghwa cursing when it feels too good, mixing with your own loud moans.

               He leans forward then, his hands next to each side of your head, and your legs falling back around his waist. He doesn’t slow his pace, his tongue poking out from in between his plush lips as he fucks your cunt. You lean forward, your mouth crushing his. Seonghwa is practically drooling and the kiss is messy, a strand of spit connecting your mouths when it ends.

               He shivers, his eyes closing tightly as his orgasm draws near. You urge him to cum, tell him how much you want to feel him unload in you again and the words push him over the edge. Seonghwa grunts, thrusting one final time as he finishes in your tight hole. For the second time in a few hours, he fills your cunt up with his load. Somehow, there is even more than before and when he pulls out, you can feel it leaking from your cunt.

               Seonghwa doesn’t say anything but he moves downward, grabbing your hips as he buries his face in between your thighs. He holds your hips downward so that your pussy is against his face. His tongue begins to rapidly flick across your swollen clit. The pleasure is sudden and intense. Your hand goes to his hair for something to hold onto, your other hand gripping the bed sheets. Seonghwa doesn’t stop and the sounds of him slurping and sucking on your clit are pornographic. You are still filled with his cum as he does so and that somehow makes it hotter.

               It doesn’t take long to bring you to the peak. Your climax is intense and you wiggle underneath him. Your pussy grinds against his face and Seonghwa makes noises of pleasure, not stopping his expert licking of your clit. Your entire body tingles from the orgasm until you fall back onto the bed, breathless from how good it felt.

               It is then Seonghwa pulls away, his pretty face covered in his own cum and yours. You are in a tired lump on the bed, eyes closing as you hear him pad out of the room to clean up. By the time he comes back, you’re already half asleep.

               Seonghwa wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you towards him gently. The touches are soft and gentle, and you relax into him. Your last thought is one of happiness that the bus broke down, leading you down this road with him. Now, everyday at the bus stop, he will be yours.

the end.

[sugarybisous]

sharpay evans stood out as a character not only because of her pink and stylish wardrobe but because of her confidence and the way she wasn’t afraid of going after what she wanted and knew she deserved. she worked hard for her passions and for her goals, she was also a QUEEN of manifestation.

(don’t believe me? listen to the words she uses in this iconic musical number!)

do not settle, plan your dreams and go after them!

throughout the whole movie nobody can deny sharpay wasn’t ambitious. she knew EXACTLY what she wanted and never hesitated to go after it. keep this mindset. if you want something in life it’s already yours you just have to go out and grab it. make your mind limitless, dreams are supposed to be grand and huge, just because other people don’t understand them doesn’t mean it wasn’t meant for you it was put into your head for a reason. ♡︎

stand out from the crowd and don’t be afraid to be “extra”!

who wants to be like everybody else? sharpay stood out the moment she stepped on screen and her peers around her laughed at her for being “snobbish” when she was simply a girl who knew what she liked and wasn’t afraid to express herself. we live in a world where people will tell you what you have to be and what things you have to like based on your race,gender,ethnicity, pretty much anything but break out of the norm! be expressive! leave your own mark on the world. do NOT water yourself down to be more digestible for others.

you fell? get right back up.

thoughout the whole franchise sharpay’s hard work would be overlooked or messed with, despite that she continued to get up and start over all over again. no one is deserving of you loosing out on the things you want in life. whenever there is an obstacle you need to pull out your confidence and hold it HIGH. if you know you deserve an amazing life why are you letting little road blocks stop you? do not let anyone steal your hard earned spotlight.

have confidence!

it’s a non-negotiable. build yourself up, become “snobbish” in the way that you love EVERYTHING about yourself. become “selfish” in the way that you are constantly looking out after yourself and choose to put yourself first always. walk around like you are THAT girl because you are.

WADROBE & ACCESSORY BREAKDOWN:

sharpay was always dressed up. she was known for her signature color pink which she incorporated a lot but didn’t shy away from glamorizing in different colors as well. she was often seen wearing a handbag with almost every outfit or her dog in her other hand or both even! (she even dressed up her own dog) from mini skirts to high heels to a shimmery hair scarf on her head to huge sunglasses or her signature tiara, she loved bedazzled things and glitter and sparkle, she always accessorized with necklaces such as her signature s or star, bangles on her arms and some kind of hat or belt on her. with eye catching materials on her like fur or the black dress with flattering holes on the side. she also glamorized and made the things she owned to her prefference like a perfect example is her iconic locker, don’t be afraid to make things to your liking if it isn’t available! be creative and crafty! if it’s not made already, take matters into your own hands!

this was something i have been so excited to work on for a while now as i have lots of things in common with sharpay, everyone deserves to think they are amazing!

[nanakorobiyaokii]

ʀᴇᴏ ꜱᴇʀᴠɪɴɢ ʟᴏᴏᴋꜱ™

[elliesbelle]

nobody compares to you

chapter 5

pairing: ellie x reader

synopsis: you're in your junior year of college and at a party, you run into the girl who broke your heart: ellie williams. despite the time it took to reset your life, will you risk a broken heart again for her?

content warnings: modern college au, cursing, angst, slight slut-shaming, brief mention of death, minors do not interact

word count: 2.3k

chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen

series masterlist

my masterlist

i have a ko-fi if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎

the "nobody compares to you" spotify playlist

featuring the isa song “sometimes you lose your soulmates”

Present Day 

Though you didn’t exactly enjoy Mondays, it was at least the one day of the week when you got to wake up naturally instead of at the crack of dawn. Your first class isn't until noon, so when you wake up at 9:30 in the morning, you decide to get your day started early. 

You weren’t always the type of person to completely do themselves up just to go to class. Maybe in freshman year for the first few weeks, but you were a seasoned vet now. Most of the time, some leggings and a simple shirt or sweater sufficed. But after such a shitty weekend, you figure you could at least make yourself feel good by looking good. 

After half an hour of getting ready, you look yourself over in the bathroom mirror. You smile, fairly satisfied with your appearance. Despite the cold breezes of Saturday night, the forecast called for a rare warm day. As a result, you allowed yourself a floral sundress, decorated with a puffy knitted, button-up jacket on top of it in case the season’s true weather decided to show. A pair of simple white sneakers finished your outfit; not the most stylish, but practically, you still had to walk around campus. 

Your lips shine from the bit of lip gloss you’d applied. You’d only applied some light mascara on today (you figured that your Literature and Sexuality class did not warrant your bold, false eyelashes). You’d lightly painted your eyes with colours that complemented those of your sundress, blending them seamlessly onto your eyelids. As you did this, that one memory that was prodding you two days ago became clearer. 

“I have no idea how you do that so naturally, dude.” Ellie’d said, watching you in awe from the foot of your bed. 

Her ocean green eyes watched the meticulous strokes of your makeup brush applying eyeshadow to your lids. It was early on in your “friendship” and it was still a couple more weeks of her calling you “dude” before you became “babe” and “baby.” 

“It’s not that hard, honestly. Just takes some practice.” You’d said, trying to keep your hand steady as you grew nervous under Ellie’s watchful gaze. 

“Nah, it’s natural talent. You’re an artist.” She’d replied. 

You’d scoffed, saying, “Ellie, all I’m doing is my makeup. You’re the actual artist, remember?” 

“No,” She’d shaken her head. “I just draw. You’re the artist here.” She’d said decidedly, eyes full of admiration as she continued to stare. 

You’d blushed furiously then, and you would continuously do so when you’d replay that memory the months following after. 

But it was two years later and now, the memory instead has you staring at your reflection tight-lipped and frowning. 

Why is she still everywhere? 

It was roughly a fifteen to twenty-minute walk from your apartment to the university. You lived in an off-campus apartment complex that was in a decent location from both the school and a downtown area nearby. It was less convenient than living on campus like several of your friends still did, and this certainly wasn’t what you’d had in mind when you were planning out your social college experience. But after the freshman year events of Rafael’s death and Ellie’s abandonment, you were far more comfortable where you were. 

You liked walking anyway. You found solace in the strolls you took, accompanied only by your thoughts and headphones. 

About five minutes into your trek to campus, you pull out your phone to text your friend Tara. 

A couple of minutes later, you were just officially entering the campus when Tara texts you back. 

You continue walking as you frown down at your phone. Dina had spent most of the previous day at your place, cheering you up and taking your mind off Ellie. Your group chat with your other friends was blowing up and by the end of the night when Dina had left, you were overwhelmed by the amount of unread texts you had. The group chat remained unopened until right now. 

The chat consisted of your friends Tara, Sidney, Astrid, Rebecca, Kristen, and Mina. You’d met them all in freshman year. Tara was your assigned roommate and Astrid was Dina’s. They were all initially casual friends, ones that you saw on a usual basis and got along well with, but they weren’t necessarily very close. You were better friends with the gang from Jackson. But after you came back to campus for sophomore year, you detached yourself slightly from Dina and Jesse, knowing full well that Ellie had them first. They both tried to remain closer to you; but they remained inseparable from their childhood best friend, not fully knowing what events led to what “broke up” you two. It wasn’t the same and it was a much different dynamic with this other friend group, but the girls were there for you all the same. 

Reluctantly, you click on the group chat named “Wilson Crew ❤️‍🔥” (Wilson Valley had been the name of the freshman dorm building most of you had resided in the first year). Scrolling up to where you’d left off, you scan the messages your friends had left the previous day. Your eyes grow wider and wider the more you read. 

The previous day, Tara, who worked at a campus coffee shop called Ruston Coffee, was tasked to train a new girl. To her, your other friends’, and now your shock, the new girl Tara was training was Freshman Girl. The same Freshman Girl who stayed glued to Ellie’s side for most of Saturday night. The same Freshman Girl who drooled over Ellie’s every word and move. The same Freshman Girl that mistook your Ellie’s signature lavender-laced joints as lilac. The same Freshman Girl who wore Ellie’s old motorcycle jacket the entire night. 

It turned out Freshman Girl did have a name: Daniela. Your friends had sent messages with different levels of shock and horror. Kristen called her a whore, to which Sidney agreed, to which Astrid reprimanded and told them both to be nice. Mina sent memes as a response. Tara also texted that Daniela would be working with her again today. 

You look up. Ruston Coffee is just down the way. You don't have to go in. You can skip coffee for today and hide out in the library instead. 

“I’m not expecting you and Ellie to magically make up. I won’t try to get into the middle of it because I know that’s between you two. But you definitely need to figure out this out, babe. This doesn’t seem like something that should remain unresolved.” Dina’d said.

“But don’t also let it affect all the other parts of your life, okay?" She continued. "She shouldn’t be stopping you from hanging out with me and Jess more often or going out to parties we’re at or anything that involves Ellie in some way. Don’t let her stop you from enjoying your life.” 

And Ellie certainly shouldn’t stop you from getting coffee. If you want to get a coffee and relax before class, Ellie should not be getting in the way of that. 

You take a deep breath and march towards the coffee shop, fingers gripping tightly onto the straps of your backpack and feet stomping in rhythm to good 4 u by Olivia Rodrigo blasting loudly through your headphones. 

A bell above the door tinkles as you enter Ruston Coffee. The shop was a little busy, most seats taken up by other students sitting with their laptops or biding time before class. There's a line of people by the register and you begin approaching it until you hear your name being called. 

Your friend Tara waves you over by the counter where orders are usually dropped off. In one of her hands is a straw and your ready-made mocha frappe. 

“You’re the literal best, Tara.” You sigh, pulling your headphones off and walking up to her. 

She hands you your coffee order. 

“No problem.” She says, smiling. “You know that I don’t mind.”

“Thank you for indulging in my caffeine addiction,” You say, whipping out your phone and sending her $6. 

Tara frowns and says, “You better not have given me a $3 tip this time.” 

You sip from your straw. 

“Dude!” Tara reprimands, laughing. 

“$2 tip!” You say, defensively. 

“Just for a $4 coffee.” She chides, shaking her head. 

You shrug. 

“So uh,” Tara begins, her voice lowered slightly. “Did you see what I said in the group chat yesterday? Cause you weren’t responding.” 

You gulp. 

“Uhh. Yeah, I did, just now. Sorry, Dina was at my place yesterday, so I was busy—” 

“Nah nah, it’s cool, man. But like. You saw what I said about that girl, right?” 

“Is she here?” You ask, chewing the inside of your cheek. 

“Not yet. But—” Tara checks her watch. “—she’s supposed to be here in less than five minutes or so.” 

Fuck. 

“Oh, okay.” You gulp, your heart rate increasing. 

“Are you okay, dude?” Tara asks. 

“No, yeah, I’m fine.” You lie. “How did training her yesterday go?” 

Tara crosses her arms and rolls her eyes. 

“Literally the worst. She kept on looking at her phone instead of listening, she left one AirPod in her ear the whole time, she kept asking when we were gonna be done. And now I have to go through it all again once she gets here.” 

You give Tara a sympathetic look. 

“I hate that,” You say, sucking on your teeth. “Can’t you just, I don’t know, not hire her?” 

“We’re short-staffed as fuck, so we don’t have much of a choice.” Tara sigh. 

One of Tara’s co-workers comes up behind her and attempts to elbow her ribs which she dodges easily. 

“Get back to work, Maclay.” He says, putting down two cups of coffee next to her before heading back towards the register. 

“Fuck off, Khanh!” She replies, shooting a middle finger to his back. 

“Should I let you get back to work?” You ask. 

“Nah,” Tara reassures. “I wanna shit talk this Daniela girl first before I have to deal with her this morning.” 

“Do you know how often she’s gonna be working with you?” You inquire. 

“I’m not sure yet, but if Bonnie thinks she’s gonna stick me with a lazy new girl this early in the year—” 

You hear the bell above the door tinkle as someone enters the coffee shop. Both you and Tara look instinctively at the new arrival. Tara groans silently and your throat goes dry. 

Freshman Girl Daniela walks in. Wearing Ellie’s jacket once again. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Crap, I gotta go now, I guess.” Tara whines begrudgingly. 

“Y-yeah…” You say, unable to take your eyes off of that same jacket that used to often adorn your shoulders back in your freshman year. You hate that it looked good on Daniela. 

“I’ll see you later, dude.” Tara says, wrenching her elbows off the counter and walking towards the register. 

“Good luck.” You reply. 

You aren't exactly subtle with your stare, but thankfully Daniela doesn't seem to notice. It's a little different seeing her now in the daytime. She was very pretty, you have to admit to yourself. She has a short, pixie cut that complements her sharp bone structure. She's wearing a bright yellow tank top below Ellie’s jacket that clings to her lean figure, making her stand out slightly. The light makeup she has on looks so simple and natural. 

Daniela wasn’t Ellie’s first conquest since you ended things with her. She didn’t waste much time dating around after you all came back for your sophomore year. You’d avoided her as much as possible so you wouldn't have to come face-to-face with the girls she’d get involved with. You still heard about them, of course, and you were sure there were even more than the ones you’d known about. 

But Daniela was the first you were forced to encounter. You weren’t prepared to be thrust right into Ellie’s love life once more. But here you are, staring at the most recent fling of the girl who you were once so desperately in love with. 

As Daniela lazily makes her way through the shop towards the back, you eventually tear your eyes off her and head straight for the exit. 

♫ Maybe she’ll come through / If he waits some more 

But she doesn’t / No, she doesn’t ♫ 

You're leaning against one of the trees in the quad, backpack laid next to you and headphones back on your ears. Your next class is in the building right behind you, but you still have a while until it started. 

♫ It’s not like the movies / Like you dream it’ll be 

Sometimes you lose your soulmates / And sometimes they leave ♫

Your journal and pen are laid out on your lap but abandoned as your fingers pick at the grass around you. Your mostly empty coffee cup sits next to you, condensation dripping into the soil. Your eyes are completely glazed over, watching the clouds in the sky. 

♫ She’s not a girl you forget / She’ll run through your head 

With all of the moments / You loved but now dread 

To remember / Burning like—♫ 

Your hands and voice react quicker than your mind does. Your sudden movements cause your headphones to fall onto your neck. After a second, you realize that you had shrieked and that your hands had flown up to your face to catch something. As you bring the object down to look at it, you realize it was a football. 

“Shit! I’m so sorry!” 

You look up to see a tall girl in a dark t-shirt and grey sweatpants jogging towards you, a dirty blonde braid bouncing behind her. 

“Abby?”

author's notes:

sorry for the delay in uploading this! i'm back from my brief vacation, and after i settled in after getting home, i almost immediately plopped down in front of my laptop to finalize this ldksfjsdlkds

not very chockful of ellie in this chapter, i know, i'm sorry! y'all got plenty last chapter! but don't worry, more will be coming up soon. i just enjoy keeping y'all in suspense.

i just wanna mention that most (if not all) of the names that i use in this fic are picked out people in the games themselves. also tara's last name is maclay as an homage to my lesbian queen tara maclay from buffy the vampire slayer. she's not the same character obvi, but i just enjoy putting in the reference :)

freshman girl aka daniela may have been named after and based on some whore girl that my ex left me for and that i'm still bitter about it oops

i hope y'all enjoyed the surprise guest appearance at the end of this chapter! she will be integrated further into the story from this point on, so stayed tuned :)

taglist: @lonelyfooryouonly, @elliesinterlude, @sawaagyapong, @peppesgirl, @iconsoft, @maybeidohaveadhd, @ellieswifee, @valiantllamapersonpony-blog, @nil-eena, @echostinn, @uraesthete, @softbunlvr, @cherriessxinthespring, @amitycat, @chrissyfishywissy, @yevheniiaaa, @machetegirl109, @bertandfearnie, @ximtiredx, @efam, @elliesnoviecita, @oatmilkchaii, @tayyyystan, @emothurman, @livvy-2000, @abigaillovestoread, @gold-dustwomxn, @liabadoobee, @yuckyfucky

[vintaeya]

“Can’t you see that I’m the one for you?” “Babe, I’m blind” ♡

-jujutsu kaisen charas x gn! reader

|| How the Jujutsu sorcerers are when their lover is permanently blind.

pairing : itadori yuuji, megumi fushiguro, nobara kugisaki, gojo satoru x gn! reader

genre : fluff, crack

tw : disability talk, light trauma conversation

words : 1.0k

Itadori Yuuji || You can’t see me, but you can feel me

You were blind from birth. It was difficult, going through life without the blessing of sight. But hey, at least you don’t have to see some of the stupidest shit people do online.

When you started to date Yuuji, you were worried. Would your disability get in the way of your relationship? But Yuuji proved you wrong every time your wories arose. He knew you were visually impaired, so he touched you. He’d touch you all over. Wherever made you feel comforted and calm, he’d keep his hand there. He’d guide you through busy roads, read out signs in the case that they didn’t have braille, and even describe funny videos to you that he sees online.

He’d usually keep his hand around your waist securely, just to be safe. Because of your disability, you are more prone to curse attacks, so he was a little overprotective during the start of your relationship. It took some time, but he realized you were independent and could be trusted. He still watched over you, though.

And…you didn’t hate how protective he was sometimes. When he’d suddenly pull you onto his chest to avoid a crowd in the subway, and you’d hear his heartbeat. When his hand would intimately slide down onto your lower back and…ehe I’ll stop there.

“I hope you can feel how much I love you”

Megumi Fushiguro || I can train my shadow dogs to become guide dogs for you

When he started dating you, heck, even before that, he trained his dogs to become guides for you. In fact, he trained all of his animals to help you travel through town, or even the school. This man was committed, ladies, gents, and non binaries.

He refused to let you go out without one, or with a simple walking cane. When he couldn’t accompany you, there came his shadow pets. Most of the time, it’d be his dogs, as they are the more acceptable guide pets in society. You felt touched that he’d take time out of his day to ensure his dogs could guide you and care for you during days Megumi couldn’t.

Once, he got Nue to get you to school, yeah, never again. You almost fell on top of principal Yaga himself and probably would have been made into one of his cursed dolls. Blind and a doll? What in the Coraline storyline is that??

There were moments where you chose his shadow pets instead of him to accompany you into town and he just got a teeny weeny bit jealous. You didn’t need perfect vision to see that. What a cutie patootie.

“I’m way better at guiding than a dog, just saying”

Nobara Kugisaki || You need a pair of stylish sunglasses. No way am I letting you wear those boring ones..!

Nobara, at first, wasn’t sure how this relationship was going to work. She loved when people looked at her. Being the center of attention was her life’s meaning. But her soulmate couldn’t? Hm..this was a problem.

She wanted to be admired. How could you do that when you could barely see her? But, one day, when you were out shopping, you felt the clothes around her and smiled. “I can’t see all that well, but I know that you look absolutely stunning”, you said. And that moment was when Nobara realized she loved words of affirmation, folks.

She gave you sets upon sets of sunglasses that were either blinged out or designer. Now you can be visually impaired with glamor. She absolutely adored dolling you up. And you, albeit somewhat worried, just let her. If she’s happy, you’re happy. Nobara loves that she felt loved, appreciated, admired, and the center of your world..all because of your words.

She doesn’t like being touched much…but you’re an exception I guess. After all, she enjoys how your hands make her feel.

“I don’t know how you do it. Making me feel admired with those words of yours. But I like it.”

Gojo Satoru || I have a blindfold, so we kind of match?

Back in your high school days, he’d constantly tease you. He didn’t look down on you or anything, but he was annoying you constantly. Worried about if you could or couldn’t handle the dangerous battlefield of a Jujutsu sorcerer without vision. He had 6 eyes, so he had a considerable advantage against you. He’d sometimes invite you to games that require sight, making you despise him more than Utahime did.

When you started dating (dk how that happened), he noticed how you were insecure with your disability. It wasn’t visible to him back then, but now he could see it all. Cue the overflow of guilt coursing through his veins at how his words from high school affected you. He didn’t show it, but he certainly did his best to make you feel like you aren’t less without your vision.

He thought he’d cheer you up by buying you a blindfold to match his. You’d walk around in matching blindfolds, and he’d guide you all the way. It was almost like a cute couple’s item. Except it wasn’t your usual shirt, or jewelry. You’d laugh when he put it on you, insisting that it was cute to match. He didn’t want you to feel different alone, so he was different with you.

It was so much easier to surprise you too! Sometimes, he’d give you ugly shirts. Other times, it was expensive coats. You wouldn’t know until you put it on. It’s either he kisses you and compliments you or starts laughing. Slap him if he laughs. Seriously.

And no, he won’t let anyone else tease you. Only he can do that. After all, who dares to defy THE one and only Satoru Gojo?

“Look at that! We match! Aren’t you glad to have something in common with the most powerful sorcerer? You look kind of cute in that ~”

note : if i made any mistakes in the concept of blindness please correct me in the comments! also, i’m back <33

[mailjeevasfan]

hii! Can you do death note cast with a fem s/o who is very pretty, nice and rich pls? Like those pretty girls with Dior and Channel

ofc!

-death note x fem!reader

-light, l lawliet, misa amane, mello, matt, near, matsuda

༺♡༻

dn characters with a sweet gf who loves designers ❦

light

-he’d probably look good with a gf like this

-light is eager to make his public image look good, and having a presentable and wealthy girlfriend is definitely going to help with that.

-it feels strange to say but bro has a stressful life lmao so you being super sweet and nice all the time is going to be good for him. even if he doesn’t appreciate it on the outside very often, he really does.

༺♡༻

l lawliet

-i don’t think he would care too much for designer clothes and stuff like that. i mean, have you seen him

-however he appreciates that it is important to you. he knows that it’s the kind of thing you’re interested in, and slowly begins to compliment you when you have a new top or expensive perfume on etc (i’d like to believe you do this to get him to notice). i can also see him buying you gifts he knows you’d like, the crazy ass skyscraper he built proves he has the money (i’m still confused about that. aizawa had the realest perspective)

-i also think he’d find your personality cute. as much as he’d like to believe he’s great at staying on track with his work, even with you around, he can’t resist how sweet you are sometimes.

༺♡༻

misa amane

-would LOOOVE this!! she’d absolutely adore having a gf who appreciates high end fashion the way she does.

-even if your styles differ at times, you still both have a great eye for this sort of thing. you love to borrow each others clothes and go shopping together and stuff.

-i think misa with another very nice and wealthy girl would go down well tbh. you both being so sweet would work well and you’d be very close, especially due to your common interests.

༺♡༻

mello

-he’s a pretty stylish guy let’s be real. even if he doesn’t get it the way you do, with the specific designers you like, he still appreciates your love for that kind of thing.

-he’d never say it, but he finds your style very cute. i think he’d also buy you gifts that you’d really like. if he saw you in something he bought for you, he’d be so so happy

-your personality contrasts his well. he learns that he needs to be less aggressive and crazy all the time LMAO. in return, he teaches you to be more blunt sometimes. he totally teases you for being kinda preppy and for ur niceness from time to time. IN AN ENDEARING WAY THO

༺♡༻

matt

-kind of similar to l, except he can understand the want to be more fashionable. i mean he has drip bffr

-but seriously he gets it, but probably isn’t all that interested. he likes to see you happy when you’re in your favourite clothes, it makes him happy to see it. he probably doesn’t care about wealthiness, he just loves you because of who you are

-however, like mello, he also probably teases you for being kind of preppy and also being super sweet and nice.

༺♡༻

near

-this sounds so weird and stupid but i feel like near would appreciate the craftsmanship and detail orientation of the clothing? LMAO IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN he’s obviously not interested in fashion one bit but that’s kind of his way of trying to understand your love for it. it’s just how his brain sees it

-he would also buy you new clothes and stuff because it’s an easier way for him to show affection

-he really likes your personality too. he’s a pretty cold guy most of the time so you manage to warm him up a little ig

༺♡༻

matsuda

-aw i think he’d be so cute. i think matsuda is another person who genuinely gets your love of expensive clothes and materialistic things. he strikes me as a guy who would love love love to own a very expensive watch (you buy him one for his birthday. he cries)

-he’s the sweetest man alive so he’s probably the best match for a person like this on the list imo

-you guys are the cutest little couple. misa especially would find you guys absolutely adorable

༺♡༻

[ieatangstforbreakfast]

Pairing ೃ⁀➷ 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝟒𝟐! 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ WHY IS THE HALLOWEEN CHAPTER PUBLISHED ON DECEMBER IDK IM SLOW, also politics yay ig— MENTIONS OF MY COUNTRY! 🇵🇭💥🇵🇭💥💪💪 Also uh VERY long chapter

Tag list ೃ⁀➷ @sakura-onesan @coffeeandtealol @luvjunie @noetophat @proudgojofucker @adorefavv @l0starl @depresssedcowboy

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟎: 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐭

Summary ೃ⁀➷ You and Montrell seem to share a few qualities. In the midst of talks of politics with Miles, you find yourself parted from the reality you were raised in, instead finding a new world in Spirit Halloween.

This chapter is not sponsored.

FIC MASTERLIST

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

".. You should've definitely worn a coat over that."

You fiddled with your sleeve, staring comfortably past the window and out into the shining streets of Brooklyn. The comment was unnecessary , but it didn't entirely fly past your ears— in fact you swallowed it like a bad egg, making your stomach churn. As you turned your head away from the window, you're brought back to acknowledge your brother, Montrell, sitting beside you with his hand over the wheel.

"I like it as it is." You answered. "It's soft, fluffy, and big. Fragrant too." Because it belongs to Miles.

"It's the first time I've seen you wear something so.." His words trace away, but even without finishing the sentence, you knew what he meant. Unsophisticated— a little too boyish in comparison to your usual, refined clothes. The classic sort of unrefined your dearest mother taught you not to embody.

"What? It's comfortable." Was your attempt of a justification. Montrell shrugs, and you catch a twitch in his eye.

Your family had similar, refined tastes. Montrell, like you, was taught to imbue stylishness in every aspect of his life. He was often Armani-clad. Brunello Cucinelli, Hermes— and every other European household name you could recall. But in special events, he usually sported suits specially tailored to his tastes. His palette was consistently ashen, monochrome, with hints of cherry red. Like his car, which had been only recently cleaned after the staff was updated with his upcoming arrival, a slick, grey Aston Martin. It was likely the peak symbolism of his tastes.

You were never really fond of vehicles, particularly their strong, Italian leather scents (Or stench, as you called it). It was because of your sensitive nose that you often requested the seats to be replaced with anything but leather. Scentless polyester was your more preferred option. Leather alone was enough to urge your stomach to clear out your last meal, by ascending to your esophagus.

"I'm not insulting your tastes. I'm glad you're exploring new aesthetics." He manages to lure out his teeth, a compliment— a not-so-good one at that. "What is this?.. Like, street style? Grunge?.. What's that other one— e-girl, I believe? Or was it Emo?"

"You sound not twenty-five years old."

"Don't be mean. The idea of it is new to me, okay?" He clears. "I haven't seen you in three years. The last time I saw you, mom was the one in charge of your wardrobe. I only ever saw your pictures and you seemed more high-end. Saint Laurent, Dior, Dolce Gabbana."

"Those are my brands, I'm just taking a break. I'm not a walking advertisement. I don't want to get robbed in the middle of Brooklyn either."

With a three-second pause, Montrell looks at you and queried.

"Does that jacket belong to a boy?"

You sit right up, ready to defend yourself when Antonne adds. "You would have to introduce him to me immediately— I won't stand aside while some boy prances around your presence. You're sixteen, and that's a prey-able age for stupid and good-for-nothing men… Unless,” He pauses. “You’re gay.”

"What— What are you talking about!?” You feigned ignorance. “I'm not g— this is— it doesn't belong to a.. Well, it does belong to a boy, but it's my friend's jacket okay?"

Oh, the way Miles would glare at you had he been there.

"Don't try to outsmart me." He shot back. "You’ve got little to no friends.”

You parted your lips. “You’re being mean.”

“I’m only stating the truth.” He sighs. “You’re too condescending, and you hate people.”

“And your sources are what? A small interaction I had when I was twelve?”

Montrell grows uneasy a bit, tapping his nails over the thinly veiled compartment. ".. So who is he?" He starts. "From which family? Who are his parents? And how did the both of you meet?"

"That's none of your business, Mon." You sighed, running a hand across your face. "I'm not seeing him, I'm simply hanging out with another friend. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Well, it surely wouldn't hurt for me to meet this friend of yours, then? If he's not a boyfriend."

Your mouth hung open, a steady sigh escaping your lips while you sink a little deeper into your seat. As a hand runs across your cheek, you looked at Montrell as he eases the car down to a red light.

"He doesn't know that I'm a Chávez."

ＢＥＥＰ

Suddenly, you're jolted to a sudden halt— nearly flying out of your seat upon Montrell's way of hitting the brakes. You grabbed onto the board before you with widened eyes and a curse in your mouth.

He remains calm, but slightly irked.

At that moment, he pulls a finger to his lips as if to hush you. He signals with another finger as it leads up to boost the music from the radio. The song blasts, and swiftly, he takes his jug hidden by the side of his seat, unscrewing the top before pouring some of the water onto his palm, flicking at the air conditioner.

Oh, he was checking if the car was bugged.

You hold out your hand, gesturing him to give you some of the water. Together, the both of you took care of the recording devices, from the front of the wheel to the back of the car. Upon gathering all of them, you stuffed it all inside the water bottle, permanently eradicating its usage.

Finally, Montrell places his hands on the wheel and speaks.

“I want you to be honest with me, [Y/n], and cut out any of the bullshittery.”

You feared that at that moment, you and Montrell weren’t brother and sister, but rivals in a battle for power.

ＳＨＯＵＬＤ ＷＥ ＥＡＴ ＹＯＵＲ ＢＲＯＴＨＥＲ？

Your finger twitches.

Wait.

“Does he make you happy?”

The question comes off a little too similar to tasteless poison. It’s a gamble in itself— and it leaves you sitting upright and crossing your legs.

“He makes me feel alive,” Was your starter. “That’s a power no other boy could do, and it’s a rarity, since I’ve always lived for other people, but he makes me feel like I’m living for myself.”

A short hum exits his lips. “And your happiness? Does he make you happy?”

You harshly swallowed. “What difference would it make if I tell you that he does make me happy?”

Montrell’s gaze narrows a bit, the heel of his boots pressing against the gas as the green light shone. “… I ought to applaud you for your sneakiness if by now, dad still doesn’t know anything about his existence.. Unless,” Gulp. “He ordered you to spy on him.”

“And for what reason?”

“It could be anything,” His grip on the wheel tightens like the coil of a noose. “Hostage, information, any of the latter. I’m not sure why father would send you off to spy on a fifteen-year-old boy, but I’m sure the truth’s far deeper than petty business rival bullshit.”

Your mind blanks.

“It’s nothing like that. I just.. Like him, that’s all.”

“Are you sure?”

“Why would I lie to you about how much he means to me?”

“Because we’re not just siblings, [Y/n],” He whispered. “If anything, we’re not a normal family, but, I’m here for you because I think you’re a good kid, even if everyone else says you’re not.”

“Cease the speech, Mon. I’m not a good person. Stop romanticizing me.”

“But why?” He adds. “Is it because you managed the media and the hotel?”

And hearing those words, you come to face the fact that there was a reason Montrell was your father’s favorite. The effortless way he’s able to read every situation, the effortless way he managed to read through your emotions. It was a talent you could only wish for.

“It was so obvious, you know.” He chuckled. “I knew— I already knew before I came home.”

“Why?”

“Because Antonne handles things messily. He makes decisions without thinking about the consequences, and he despises planning things on the long run. Dad wouldn’t trust anyone outside the family after what happened with Mom, nor would he allow just anyone to handle such shaky affairs. It’s not like it’s beyond father’s morality to hire his own children and calling it practice.”

“What evidence do you have?”

Montrell took one look at you. “The Warehouse. It’s said that it was recently burnt, and that Antonne had to fight the Prowler, but Antonne wouldn’t have had the time to take care of all that because he was investigating you.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You spat.

“Also, no one but family takes care of the Warehouses.”

“No— I know that, fuck that. You were going to find out one way or another, but what the fuck was Antonne investigating me for?”

Your brother simply shrugs, his shoulders dropping comically.

“It was about that boy.”

“What!?” Your voice breaks a little. “Jesus fuck, what is wrong with him!?”

“Evidently, he’s worried about you.”

You snorted. “Worried!? Worried my ass!” The vulgar way you spoke caught Montrell so off-guard that he had to look at you twice to check if you were still the same person. “I’d rather believe the world’s ending. Antonne and I stopped being siblings the moment he dropped responsibility for all those who were killed, forcing me to step up and do damage control because Dad stopped trusting everyone else.”

“Well, that’s understandable.”

“Plus, there’s nothing to be worried about. The boy I’m meeting he’s.. He’s just.. I like him. That’s it. I know it’s hard to believe since most of the time I’m a conniving bitch, but I genuinely, wholeheartedly like him. Like how a normal teenage girl ought to like a boy.”

Montrell hums. “… Alright, I’ll believe you. It’s not too far off from unusual, when I’m also facing a similar issue.”

You blinked. “What do you mean by that?”

“… You see, [Y/n], I’ve got also got a girl for myself.” He announced so suddenly. “Met her at Oxford. Like your boy, she bore no idea of who I was.. Who I am, and understandably, and I know you know about this too— but it’s a refreshing feeling to not be recognized as the potential inheritor of a business empire.”

You part your lips, processing the information with confusion all over your expression. “But— there were no reports of you being in a relationship.”

“Of course there weren’t,” He laughs. “I had her carefully hidden from everyone’s sights.”

And that could mean two things. You didn’t want to think of the latter.

“Maybe it’s genetic,” Montrell added, turning the wheel. “Father, mother, me, Antonne, you. Making stupid decisions for stupid ideals— rather, stupid romance. It’s frightening to think how Malachi’s going to inherit our tendencies.”

“I’m not,” Your heart raged within the cage of your ribs. “I’m not like that to him. I can never allow myself to trap him.”

“You can either be one of them.” Montrell sighed. “Mom or dad, I mean.”

The good ol’ bird or the cage.

“But I won’t be able to stand by and watch when that does happen,” He straightens his lips. “I can’t let anything happen to you.”

You can hear the voice whisper back in your mind.

“Which is why I’ve got to meet.. [Y/n]?”

Your hands slithered up against your ears in an attempt to block out the voice.

“[Y/n], are you okay?”

You gasped for air, a familiar voice taunting you like the one from your dreams. Except, this one didn’t speak like the voice of the symbiote, rather, it endowed this sweet allure as though it could sing you a lullaby to sleep.

Before the symbiote, there was someone else who plagued your thoughts and mind and actions.

Before the symbiote, there was your mother.

“Stop the car.” You croaked, palms still over your ears. Montrell speaks, but his words were blurred out into the void of nothingness. The more he speaks, the more your mind shreds itself into pieces. After a long second of thinking, Montrell finally pulls up by the sidewalk, taking his hands off the wheel and pulling one in front of you. He waves it hesitantly, snapping you from your thoughts.

“Breathe, [Y/n], breathe.”

“I-I,” You lengthily stammered. “Mon, I’m sorry, but can I go?” As he’s about to answer, you add. “I’ll introduce you another day, I promise, I just, I need to be alone right now.”

“But isn’t it unsafe? We’re in the slums, you’ll never know how—“

“Mon, I can fight.” You ended the conversation with that alone. Hesitantly, he nods and unlocks the door. You reach for the handle, moving along with the click as you turned to leave.

“Can you at least message me when I can pick you up?”

You looked over to Montrell.

“… Okay.”

ＳＬＡＭ.

“Miles!”

And he could already hear you from a block away, jogging with steady and loud steps.

Without even looking up from his phone, he unconsciously opened his arms to welcome you with an embrace— closing in immediately upon your arrival. You felt like you were going to stain his jacket with your glossed lips, but you barely managed to care anymore at this point, as this hug was beyond a need. You clung onto his neck, burying your aching head into the nape of his collar, taking in this familiar scent of spice and wood. A subtle homage, or a reminder of your older brother, Montrell.

What was it about men and their perfume?

It felt like you hadn’t seen Miles in such a long, long time. It was like you were a child who’d parted from their favorite blanket for a little too long that it made you uneasy. You liked the world and space you had between his arms— it was your warmth, your only true home, and it was yours.

All yours.

“What’s wrong?” He cooed, simpering around with you in his arms.

“I just want to stay like this for a moment.” You whispered. “I need to steal the warmth off of you.”

“Well, nena, why are you only wearing my hoodie? It’s so cold out.”

“It’s not that.”

Miles’ ears metaphorically perked up upon hearing you sniffle.

“Who the fuck hurt you? I’ll kill ‘em.”

Your lips curved into a smile.

Oh, Miles, you can’t possibly kill off a multi-million dollar industry.

“Can you kill a car, then? My brother drove me here and his car’s smell made me age twenty years,” You grumbled. “I’m boutta die at thirty-seven, I swear.”

“Your brother?” He lightly jolts away, eyes journeying from road to road in search of him. “God, where is he? Is he here?”

And at that moment, Miles subsequently fixes his posture, his words suddenly endowing some strange sort of politeness. You nudge at his shoulder, “I told him to drop me off somewhere else. I didn’t want him to meet you yet.”

“Awe,” He pouted. “Well, that’s aight. I’m gonna dress up real nice when I meet your family.”

“Uhuh,” You laughed. “And what are you going to be wearing?”

“I’m gonna borrow my unc’s suit, and I’ll talk business with yo father.”

“Only business you’ll be discussing with my father is your damn funeral, Miles. My papa don’t want me out here dating, that’s why he put me in private school.”

“With a face like yours?” He smugly grinned. “Your daddy’s kinda underestimating the power of your pretty face.”

“Oh, so you like me ‘cause I’m pretty?”

“Pretty fucking unbearable, that’s what you is.” The boy joked. “M’just kidding. I like you because you’re pretty much everything to me.”

Despite the fluttering of your stomach, you persevered with your little game. “Doesn’t answer anything— what do you like about me? Did you like my face or my personality?”

“I liked you ‘cause of your pretty face, and stayed for your amazing personality.” He answered as though he’d been preparing for the question his whole life.

“Amazing personality?”

“Extravaganza bonanza personality.”

“I’m not a banana split sundae, Miles.”

“Might as well should be with yo damn split personality.”

Your hands dangle away, Miles unconsciously attempts to reach for it but instead accepts defeat when you held his hand. “So where are we going for halloween spirit, exactly?”

“Halloween spirit?” He queried.

“Yeah, didn’t ya mention something about being in halloween spirit?”

Miles paused, holding back a loud laugh in the middle of the street. “My girl, I said I was in Spirit Halloween.”

“What the fuck is a Spirit Halloween?”

“Holy shit,” He verbalized. “You’re in for a scare, nena.”

And he meant those words a little too literally.

Growing up, it wasn’t within your household to make halloween one of your yearly traditions. Your father deemed it unnecessary, while your mother was anything but fun (Same difference, really). Your brothers have celebrated halloween, one way or another, but since you were the child closest to your mother, you were anything but free of her beliefs.

So being greeted with a large, bloodied skeleton first-thing upon entering the building was a first for you.

“WHAT THE HELL IS EVEN THAT!?”

Miles simply explodes into laughter, holding his phone up just to record your reaction. You fall right back, hand still holding onto his. “Come on, nena, you can do it, let’s get past the entrance.”

“Miles, what in THE FUCK is that!?”

“Don’t be mean to your brother, ma.” He attempts to drag you inside as you sat down by the floor with petrification scribbled all over your face. “[Y/n], come on, introduce me to the rest of your family.”

“FUCK YOU!” You whisper-yelled.

“It’s not even moving yet, come on, [Y/n].”

“THAT’S SUPPOSED TO MOVE!?”

After managing to drag you past the animatronics (Which Miles described was a work out in itself), the both of you marveled at the isle where all the costumes were, skimming through the racks and looking at each and every picture. “Oh, Miles— look at this,” You pluck one out, the hanger dangling from your fingers. “It’s Emily from the corpse bride! Shit, I haven’t seen the movie since I was eight.”

“Look at this one, Ma, this shit’s so you.”

He pulls out an Elsa costume.

“Even got the white ass wig and everythin’.” He giggles as you playfully smacked his arm. “Let it go. Let it go.”

“Shut up.”

“Can’t hold this shit anymore!~”

“MILES.”

“LET IT GO!”

You tried to hush out his horrible singing, but the way he giggled was so infectious that you couldn’t help but giggle yourself. When bystanders started walking past the both of you with weird ogles in their gazes, you couldn’t help but put your hand over your mouth to muffle your laughing.

“Puñeta,” Miles added, pulling out a fucking teenage mutant ninja turtles costume. “You’ve got to fucking try this, ma.”

“Miles—“ You couldn’t even continue a sentence without wheezing.

You did eventually find a costume— unlike the original plan, the both of you couldn’t find a medieval patient dying of the bubonic plague, but Miles did manage to find a dark priestess costume along with a plague doctor costume.

“We’re like business partners. The patients go to me, and when they die, you send them off.” Was what he said.

“Wouldn’t that make you a really horrible doctor?”

“Doctor’s still a doctor, ma. I mean, it’s the police’s job to protect all of us but if that’s really the case, they’re doing a pretty fucking horrible job at it, but hey, we still call them the police.”

You looked at the mirror, watching the confusion materialize over your face as you heard Miles’ rant behind the curtain. As you clumsily tried on your costume inside the changing room, you couldn’t help but ask. “What makes you say that? That they’re doing a horrible job at protecting y’all?”

As you zipped up the bolero, you hear Miles’ curtain open.

“Well, Ma, brutality’s been upper than hell compared to the last few decades, so’s poverty. For the last four years, the economy’s been going downhill, which made us have a recession. ‘Cause of that, a lot of the cops had to kiss up some of the wealthy folks’ asses to keep their jobs.”

“So that makes them corrupt?”

“That makes them desperate,” He alluded. “No one wants to die of starvation, and they all have families to feed. It’s divide and conquer, really.”

“Divide and conquer?— oops,” You pick up the fallen headdress from the floor. “Expand on that.”

Miles hums a bit. “Imagine the crab mentality. I’ve read about it before for a philosophy research, and it’s a term used in the Philippines. Put a fuck ton of crabs in a bucket. You’re gonna see the crabs drag each other down in order to pull themselves up, but in the end, none of them ain’t gonna reach the top.

Because the true problem was never the crabs, it was the person who put those crabs inside the bucket in the first place. Same goes for us, the poor. We all have to fend for ourselves so we put others down— because if we’re too busy surviving, we don’t have to pay no attention to the rich who put us all inside the damn bucket in the first place.”

The way he described it was so familiar.

It was like he was describing you with your siblings.

ＨＥ’Ｓ ＳＭＡＲＴ. Ｉ ＬＩＫＥ ＨＩＭ.

Hearing the symbiote’s approval echo in your mind, you couldn’t help but smirk.

He’s not just smart. He’s a genius.

ＤＯＮ’Ｔ　ＯＶＥＲＰＲＡＩＳＥ　 ＨＩＭ,

ＳＷＥＥＴＨＥＡＲＴ

Don’t call me that, ever.

His experiences and your experiences were similar despite being so contradictory, and it didn’t make sense. You were rich, so extraordinarily wealthy that the recession was never a part of your problem, hell, the decline of the economy was never your problem— and Miles was struggling along with his family to keep themselves afloat.

And you could never put yourself in his shoes, as you knew nothing of the loss he felt.

But the both of you were kids in line to shape the future, and if the generational trauma ever continued, you’d only end up the oppressor, but you knew, Miles was going to tear himself apart from the title of ‘victim’, and he was going to stand up against you— maybe not now, maybe not tomorrow,

But soon, as villain versus hero.

You pushed the curtain away, unveiling the costume to Miles.

But rather than seeing him, he was nowhere to be found.

You lifted the veil, stepping out of the dressing room to take a peek at him, but you couldn’t find any trace of his broad-shouldered figure anywhere. You softly called out for his name, head spinning from constantly turning. Your feet took you forward. You try ignore the giggly and bloodily-clad animatronics whose haunting stares scared you far worse than any unwanted confrontation with any of your family members.

And there he was, talking to a girl.

That sort of closeness— the way they spoke. Laughing, catching up, or something like that. Acquaintances? Friends, maybe?

Something ugly pricked at your skin from within.

ＨＵＮＧＲＹ.

Montrell’s words began to spiral inside your mind. ‘Father, mother, me, Antonne, you. Making stupid decisions for stupid ideals— rather, stupid romance.’

ＨＵＮＧＲＹ.

The feeling seared your veins, making you dig your nails into the bed of your palm. Your knuckles quivered from the intensity, like a sort of anger you felt when you saw any of your elder brothers being praised for the bare minimum, except.. This one felt different.

ＨＵＮＧＲＹ.

You watched the way her braids fell, wondering if you could pull it off with such grace. High society’s always been too picky, which forced you to drown out most of your interests, but now you couldn’t help but feel a little envious. You wanted to wear the clothes you wanted to wear, try out the makeup you wanted to try.

It felt like your mother’s shadow was being cast on you, making you embody the very phase you feared, your mother’s daughter—

and like your mother, you were quick to get jealous.

And it devoured you, whole.

You faltered, taking a step back before fully pivoting your heel and running off back to the dressing room. You shut the curtain behind you, only now finding the symbiote staring right at you through the mirror— its grotesque body mirroring your move.

“For a girl who knows how to handle most of her emotions, you can’t seem to handle jealousy well.”

“I’m not jealous. I’m just tired.”

“And I’m Sofia Vergara.“

“How the fuck do you know who Sofia Vergara is?”

“Memories, my dear.”

You felt a surge of panic take course of you.

“This is unhealthy. I can’t be like this, I don’t even know who she is.” You exasperatedly murmured. “I need to calm down— Miles and I aren’t even official yet.”

“Exactly, so be the lady that you are and introduce yourself, damn it. You have no friends.”

“I have friends.” You seethed. “I’m popular as hell in Acadia.”

“If I had a dollar for every friend you have, I’d be the one giving you a poverty rant.”

“[Y/n]?” Miles pulled you out of your thoughts yet again.

“Y-Yeah?” You called out, whipping your head back. “You done?” He asks, shuffling a bit. You hesitantly open the curtain to reveal yourself, your sights eventually welcoming the image of Miles dressed in all black— with a long, beak-like mask over his head. As you were too busy trying to find his little acquaintance, Miles gawks at you from behind his heavy façade.

The faux black silk draped over your curves seamlessly, the crimson of the bolero gleaming beneath the light as it contrasted against the dress. You lifted the veil past the dark crown like a bride, lashes fanning up to meet him by his gaze.

“Oh, wow.” He sighed. “Wow, you— the woman that you are.”

There was something about the way he looked at you.

It was like you were all that consumed his mind and being. Nonetheless, it was the truth.

But even now, as Miles held out his hand for you to hold, you couldn’t help but wonder how many times he’ll look at you like this until it manifests from love into something else.

“It’s a halloween costume, Miles, not a wedding dress. I can’t possibly be lookin’ all that great.” You took his hand, drawing closer to the mask. “God, you look like a big bird.”

Lost in the way you looked, Miles’ hands unconsciously trailed around your waist, looking down on you with a dumb stare that you couldn’t fathom. Suddenly, the both of you were disrupted by an abrupt cough. You both turn your heads, finding the same girl you’d seen him talking to just a few minutes ago.

“Hey,” She beamed, waving her hand at you. “Hope I ain’t disturbing anything?”

“You definitely were.” Miles’ gaze narrowed. The girl laughed, her white grin wide like a crescent moon. You couldn’t help but think, she’s got such a pretty smile.

“Mind introducing me, Miles?”

With a hand still on your waist, Miles gestures towards you. “This is my lady,”

“[Y/n],” You held out your hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Both Miles and the girl stared at your open palm.

“Wow, ain’t she prim and proper? Like a princess.” She teased, accepting your hand. “I’m Amadi, nice to meet you too.”

Her palm was warm and smooth, decorated by the lacey sleeve of her periwinkle sweater. She stood in heeled boots, a couple inches taller than you— an inch or two off of Miles’ height. As she shook your hand, the girl couldn’t help but helplessly marvel at you as though you were a statue carved from marble.

“God, how in the hell did you land on Miles? You’re just,” Amadi’s hands airily traced your figure. “You’re just wow. I-Is Miles keeping you hostage or sum? You don’t look nuthin like human. You look outta this world.”

“Thank,” You stifled a laugh. “Thank you?”

“I can hear you, Madi.” Miles churned.

“M’just stating truths ‘cause—“ She clicks her long, acrylic nails. “Why she be lookin’ outta this world while you’s lookin like you snuck onto earth?”

You placed a hand over your mouth, trying your hardest, you very hardest, not to laugh. Miles pulled you back away from her with a disintegrating glare.

“Tu puta madre,” He spat. “.. Go back to Monique.”

“Monique?”

“Mi novia— love of my life, we’re off halloween shopping too. Gotta big date tomorrow, we gon be watching horror movies n shi.” Amadi added, decisively looking around. “Speaking of which, Ionno where she went.”

“She might be with Voshon.” Miles piqued.

“Voshon?” Your head started to spin with the amount of new names you were processing. “That’s a.. Interesting name.”

“Mama was gonna name him Joshua, but my dad wanted to combine or grandparents’ names together, so— Vaughn and Shontelle.. Voila, Voshon.”

“Oh, he’s your brother?” You queried. Amadi hums. “Unfortunately. I mean, I’d always preferred being an only child but we all don’t get what we want most of the time.“

“Oh, I definitely get that.”

“No way, you got brothers too?”

“Yeah, I’m the only girl.”

“Can’t imagine the mess in your house, damn.. Hey!”

Amadi soon joins a pair, one with a much brighter and pinker style and the other satisfied with a mere hoodie for marking a fashion statement. You fiddled with the skirt of your dress, evidently nervous as a million thoughts flooded your mind. You weren’t the friendliest person out there, nor were you the most likable out of all your siblings.

It was never easy for you to make friends. Too many found you overbearing, the rest condescending. Your position was overwhelming enough for any other person your age, and those who knew about you were ambitious to make connections and forge deals.

What if they won’t like me?

What if I mess up?

What if I come off as too condescending?

But Miles took your hand, grabbing your attention from the spur of your overthinking. He took off his mask, easing you with the familiarity. One look at him and home found its way back to you.

“You wanna meet ‘em, ma?” He asks.

With an anxious smile, you nodded.

“Of course.”

And like a whirlwind into the night, you were off.

For the first time, you part yourself entirely from the world you knew and entered Miles’ world.

“Oh, hello!” Bubbly and sweet, Monique greeted you with such warmth that it melted away all your previous worries. “Oh my god— don’t tell me,” She glances over to Amadi for confirmation. “Are you the [Y/n] Miles always talks about!?“

“Nica— please—“

“You ARE!”

She spoke of you as though you’d been a legend told to the latter, like a tooth fairy. “It’s so nice to finally meet you! We’ve been dying to meet you and– wow, you’re gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” Your cheeks were bound to be flushed. “I think you’re very pretty too. I-I really like your hair and your makeup, it’s super well done.”

“Awe, thank you so much!” She placed a hand over your heart, wholeheartedly touched by your compliment. Monique looks at Miles with a pout.

“… Miles, can you fight?”

“Fuck you mean ‘Can you fight?’, I will square you the fuck up r’now.”

His friends were sweet— welcoming without the need of a surname. Monique, with her free and silk-like curls, was a firecracker who liked glitter on her lids and her nails and her clothes. Amadi was ever-so loving of her, despite preferring black and chains for her aesthetic. The two girls were a stark contrast of one another— and unsurprisingly, Monique already had her mermaid costume prepared and was just helping out Amadi pick her Dracula ensemble.

Voshon, although quieter, was one you recognized as similarly withdrawn and reserved like Miles when the both of you first met. Amadi described him to be a total nerd, and quirky— later proven when he and Miles chased each other with fake swords, running across the aisles while exchanging hits.

When Voshon tosses over the sword to you, however, chaos truly ensued.

“GO GET HIM!” The girls cheered as you and Miles managed to create a questionable chase scene of a Priestess holding a Minecraft sword chasing after a Plague Doctor with a scythe. Onlookers couldn’t help but watch on as the both of you squabbled.

Like a livid cat and its cheesy mouse.

“Esto en un mamey. You too fuckin’ slow!” He teased in between a heave. “Can’t catch me for shit!”

Shit went down as you bent over to take off your boots.

“That ain’t changing, nun— aye puta.” Miles narrowly avoids one of the shoes that came flying at his direction. He looks over like a child in awe, head following the direction of wherever it went.

“I never knew you were Latina, mam– MIERDA LOCO, CEBOLLA COÑO!” And a couple other curses exit his tongue as you tackled him to the ground with a loud crash.

You let a hearty, chesty giggle escape your lips. The adrenaline got you cackling like a comical villain, that even Miles couldn’t help but laugh helplessly along with you. Seeing you like that, with your hair all wild and your smile at its wildest, it softened his whole being.

“… You’re so pretty, mami.” He airily sighed with a cough to the side.

“.. Sure.” Was all you could answer.

And of course, after getting an earful from the staff, you and Miles finally ended your tiny sword-fighting sequence. After changing out of the costumes, all five of you prompted to test out the animatronics.

It was about taking turns.

“AYE, MAMAHUEVO.”

And it was also when you realized, Amadi was Dominican.

You learned a lot of Spanish that day, especially from one step of a button to activate an animatronic.

Everyone’s mouths were.. Extraordinarily filthy.

But you liked it— from watching bursting and spinning animatronics screaming bloody murder at you, to going around talking about all kinds of things with his friends.

“God, I’ve always wanted one of those.” Amadi points at the lace parasol one of the mannequins were holding. “It’s so Morticia Addams.”

“Well, maybe you should get it.” You suggest. “It’d look great with your vampire costume.”

Amadi sighed. “I only got money for the costume, can’t buy sum like that. Maybe I’ll just DIY it with my nana’s old umbrella.”

You squinted a tiny bit, eyeing the sign that announced in bold lettering: $16.99.

And for privileged little you, the sixteen was just change for a hundred dollar bill, which made you inadvertently blurt out. “I can pay.”

“Nah, girlie, it’s gon’ take me whole two to three months ‘fore I can afford to pay you back.”

“I mean, it’s fine—“ You realized just how spoiled you were sounding. “I recently got my paycheck so I guess I can buy you something.”

“Where do you work, though?” Monique added, clinging onto your other hand as the left one was occupied by Miles. “Like do you work at a café or a restaurant?”

“Family business,” You vaguely replied. “Boring stuff. But my dad pays me well enough, so I guess I can live with it— so maybe I can pay for that.”

“No, no, no.” Amadi answered, accent thick. “Really, we can pay for it ourselves.”

But you couldn’t ignore it. Not when you could see Miles openly contemplating on buying the costume or not— as he’s been fiddling with the price tag the whole time you two were walking. And you’ve seen the way Voshon’s been eyeing the diamond sword for a while now.

So you made up your mind.

“I’m just gonna go to the bathroom for a moment— can you hold this for me, Miles?” You gently nudged your costume towards him before walking away without another word. As you did so, the group gawked in confusion.

“… Where’s she going? The bathroom’s that way.”

Ring. Ring. Ring.

“Hello, this is Mr. Chávez’s office, how may I help you?”

A simple, roundabout greeting, said over and over for the last few years. Usually followed by a “No, he’s not available at the moment” or a “I’ll take word”, but for the first time, the secretary stammers in embarrassment with her nails clutching onto the phone for dear life. The old man behind the wide, glass doors took note of his poor assistant’s sudden faltering, yet he maintains naturally unfazed.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll put him on the phone with you right this instant.”

Stumbling in her high heels, the secretary staggers inside the man’s office with the whole telephone in her hand.

“Sir, you’ve got an important call.”

“I’m busy, Nicole.”

“It’s your daughter— Miss [Y/n]?” She uttered your name as though you’d materialize out of thin air after chanting it three times. She was horrified of you.

With a click of his tongue, your father picks up the phone.

“What do you want?” He instantly asks of you.

“Dad, remember how you’ve always claimed that the celebration of halloween is unnecessary?”

Without even uttering an answer, you decisively went on.

“Well, in November, there is a tremendously large spike of sales when it comes to anything horror-related. It’s always been capitalist to clad November as a scary month in order to convince people to buy into scary things—“ He hears something tumble in the background. “— and since late October to early November is usually one of the hotel’s lowest months, I figured my proposal would be a perfect proxy for my apology for the way I acted during dinner.”

You didn’t even know what you were talking about at this point, but you were willing to try.

“.. What are you talking about?” He snaps.

“Well, I—“ You hesitated a bit. “I researched a bit, and I’ve come with an unsure solution.”

“What is it?”

“… Can we buy Spirit Halloween?”

[fueledbysano]

𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐎𝐅: 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐘'𝐒 𝐅𝟏 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄

mikey as your professional racer husband ♡

♱ ft. racer!mikey x afab!reader

♱ content/warnings: manga spoilers, fluff, domestic fluff, suggestive themes

♱ a/n: well, if this isn't the life. I plan to make this a mini series for the other tr boys' future professions too when I have the time. anw i love racer mikey so much he can have my kids

˗ˏˋ A normal day for Mikey typically looks like training, and practice races. and so, you start the day with making him a big breakfast so he stays in top condition for the day.

˗ˏˋ He also loves it when you eat with him, so he sits you on his lap, making sure you have a taste of your own delicious creation.

˗ˏˋ Before he leaves, it's routine that you're the one to put on his uniform and protective gear. You finish off by placing a sweet kiss on his lips before securing a helmet over his head.

˗ˏˋ Everytime he drives off, it becomes a habit to flash his tail light three times for you as an "I love you".

˗ˏˋ and he also brought up this habit on his actual races, blinking it for you before the countdown as good luck; to which you eventually realized, as you always get the front row seats to his tournaments and matches.

˗ˏˋ In the race track, you are still Mikey's number one, quite literally, when you are wearing one of his jackets that has your shared last name and the distinct number "1" on the back, which is Mikey's number.

˗ˏˋ You are often shown on the big screen as you watch Mikey, making sure to capture your reaction, especially to his wins.

˗ˏˋ You eventually learned how to pose like a model, especially when cameras love stealing shots of you— the star racer's stunning and supportive wife.

˗ˏˋ If you look him up, there's a handful of cute photos of the two of you kissing beside the race track.

˗ˏˋ You are the first person he looks for after every race, and you'll always be ready to hug him proudly whatever place he gets.

˗ˏˋ You always host a celebratory party for him everytime Mikey wins a race. And you always go extravagant.

˗ˏˋ Sometimes, Draken would scold you for how much you spoil your husband.

˗ˏˋ Especially on days when Mikey would run late on training and engine check, all because he refused to leave you in bed.

˗ˏˋ But it's a give and take, really. Considering how much Mikey spoiled you as well.

˗ˏˋ Firstly, he always takes you on his overseas tournaments. You never missed a race, no matter how far it was held.

˗ˏˋ With Draken and Inupi's help, he even made you a motorcycle of your own that looked as stylish as his.

˗ˏˋ The glint in your eyes when you saw it for the first time had paid off, and he immediately took you to a test drive.

˗ˏˋ During your teenage years, you learned how to drive Mikey's CB250T which was basically riding a bike for you. But to drive an actual sports motorcycle was more complicated.

˗ˏˋ Mikey practically wrapped you in safety gear and helmet, protectively wrapping his arms around you as you drove it for the first time.

˗ˏˋ By the end of the day, when you got a hold of its machinery, you and Mikey were cruising down the seaside highway on your own bikes.

˗ˏˋ This then became your favorite date activity— to have joy rides on different corners of the country.

˗ˏˋ However, you sometimes insist on being his passenger, mainly because you get to embrace him for the whole ride. And this is something he couldn't deny.

˗ˏˋ It's usual for Mikey to end the day with worn out or sore limbs, so you always prepare him a bath and give him a massage afterwards.

˗ˏˋ And to this, he thanks you with kisses and invites you into the tub with him.

˗ˏˋMikey's motorcycle isn't the only thing he's good at riding.

˗ˏˋ Considering his intensity of training, the strength in his limbs and core pays off in bed.

˗ˏˋ Making love with Mikey is always an intimate and hot experience for the both of you; as if he's studied every part of your anatomy and how your body reacts to certain touches.

˗ˏˋ and god, his body— it was a sculpture of beauty that made it impossible to hold the thoughts in your head.

˗ˏˋ His hands are skillful in pulling off your clothing too, all while keeping them in one piece no matter how eager he is.

˗ˏˋ Going on days, even weeks without having sex is a regular occurrence to you, considering that he would always be tired from training or tournament when he comes home.

˗ˏˋ But oh, the sex makes it all up.

˗ˏˋ Mikey couldn't hold back any longer. Every part of him is screaming to thrust his way inside your pussy and pound away at it, but another part of him is telling him to take it easy on you, since it's been awhile and all. but he doesn't think he can.

˗ˏˋ He's wanted this all day— to be buried balls deep inside of you, hear how you moan, feel your warm, tight hole suck up his dick.

˗ˏˋ He thrust his hips forward and your pussy took him in inch by inch. You're wet and tight, and feel so goddamn good. You moaned when you felt him all there and that moan is what he's been needing— Sweet, innocent and all his.

˗ˏˋ "Shit, [ Y / N ]," He groaned in your ear. "I won't be able to go easy," He grunted. "Then don't." You hooked an arm around the back of his neck and lifted your legs to his muscular shoulders.

˗ˏˋ That one sentence is about to turn him into a maniac. It's the fuel he needs— the words he never knew he craved.

˗ˏˋ and it did; the bed shook, headboard slamming against the wall and wood creaked with every thrust.

˗ˏˋ “My pretty wife~” He couldn't help but admire your flushed face, his eyes flickering to your breasts that bounced with every thrust.

˗ˏˋ “I love you s'fuking much…” He whimpered, finding his release with one final thrust. You didn't last longer with his sweet praises either and climaxed with him, practically merging your bodies together along with your hot moans and his soft kisses.

˗ˏˋ “I love you too~” you let him rest his head on your chest and comb your fingers through his dark hair.

˗ˏˋ Mikey is practically the ideal spouse one could ask for, and he thinks about how perfect of a wife you are, not able to imagine himself being with someone else. You always wonder how insanely lucky you are to have found each other and to be finally doing something that you both just once dreamt of.

[beloved-calypso]

・ ゜ ʚɞ ゜ ゜𝖂𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖙𝖞𝖕𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖇𝖊𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖞 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚?♡ ・ ゜ ʚɞ ゜ ゜‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

♡𝐹𝑜𝓇 𝒶𝓉𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝓅𝓈, 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓀 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈 𝑜𝒻 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝒹𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈. 𝐹𝑜𝓇 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝑒𝓎𝑒𝓈, 𝓈𝑒𝑒𝓀 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝓅𝑒𝑜𝓅𝓁𝑒. 𝐹𝑜𝓇 𝒶 𝓈𝓁𝒾𝓂 𝒻𝒾𝑔𝓊𝓇𝑒, 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒻𝑜𝑜𝒹 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝓊𝓃𝑔𝓇𝓎. 𝐹𝑜𝓇 𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒾𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇, 𝓁𝑒𝓉 𝒶 𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓁𝒹 𝓇𝓊𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝒾𝓉 𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶 𝒹𝒶𝓎. 𝐹𝑜𝓇 𝓅𝑜𝒾𝓈𝑒, 𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓀 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌𝓁𝑒𝒹𝑔𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊’𝓁𝓁 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓀 𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑒. ~ 𝒮𝒶𝓂 𝐿𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓈𝑜𝓃♡

All pictures and gifs are not mine but belong to their original artists. ♡

I. -> II. -> III. -> IIII.

ɪꜰ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ꜱᴜɢɢᴇꜱᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ꜰᴏʀ a ᴘɪᴄᴋ-ᴀ-ᴄᴀʀᴅ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴘᴜᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏᴡ! ᴀʟꜱᴏ, ɪ ᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢɪᴢᴇ ɪɴ ᴀᴅᴠᴀɴᴄᴇ ɪꜰ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ɢʀᴀᴍᴍᴀʀ ᴏʀ ᴘᴜɴᴄᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ. ᴇɴɢʟɪꜱʜ ɪꜱ ᴍʏ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ. ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜱᴜᴄᴋ ᴀᴛ ɪᴛ.

~ XOXO 💋🎀

౿૮꒰ྀི pile 1 ๑◞꒱ა

[Queen of Pentacles, 9 of Cups, 3 of Pentacles]

Ooo pile 1 you are a captivating beauty! Your beauty is elegant, feminine, and sensual. You have impeccable fashion taste. It's like what you wear is simple yet very chic and stylish. I'm getting that you are likely earth signs or have a lot of earth placements, I'm getting mostly Capricorn and Taurus, but some Virgos. I'm seeing muted reds, browns, beiges, suede coats, cardigans, and heels, so those are the colors and items you most likely wear. For some, you come off as a confident businesswoman, and for others, your aesthetic is dark to light academia. You emanate wealth and luxury; even if you aren't rich, your style and poise speak of those things. You may love flowers and greenery and divulge into cottage-core as well, and have somewhat of a homely vibe. You may also like to wear sweaters, boots, and leggings (it seems you dress the best for the colder fall seasons). You may be somewhat of a social butterfly and excel at social events at your workplace/school. Even if you are on the shy side, people interpret you as being quite confident in yourself. You sound graceful when you speak and your movements are careful and measured. People wonder how you can carry yourself with such elegance. You give off that 'it' girl energy. People would assume there's nothing that you can't do, like you can excel in anything. You give off the vibes of refinery and polish, and if you find that it's hard for people to approach you, just know that it's because they are intimidated by you. People assume that you must either have a great-paying job or own a business. It's giving career woman/boss woman. You may not venture out much but stick with your friend group or colleagues. You may have a lot of admirers at your workplace because this is where your beauty and talents most shine.

⊱┈─✧

✨️ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ʀᴇꜱᴏɴᴀᴛᴇ:✨️

August. Roses. Shooting stars. Competition. Academics. Networking. Lori Harvey. Nurturer. Gold. Enterprise. Workplace romance. Secret crush. Lovesick. Thrifting. Virgo.

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧

౿૮꒰ྀི pile 2 ๑◞꒱ა

[Ace of Pentacles, 5 of Wands, Temperance]

Pile 2 your beauty is too good to be true! It's almost like people think you paid to look as good as you do, lol. If you are attentive to your self-care, like you invest in skincare, body care, hair care, or pricey makeup, people notice. Investment doesn't just have to mean you pay money for good products, but also that you have spent a long time grooming and improving your appearance and the payoff is so noticeable. You look well taken care of, hydrated, glowy, and vibrant. You may come off as someone that is high maintenance (which I don't see anything wrong with). Your beauty is like a flower having freshly bloomed-this could be quite literally my late bloomers pile. Your beauty is so enamoring that it's worth fighting over. You may attract jealous people. If you noticed any so-called friends trying to shade you, just note it as their envy talking. You may have gotten caught in a situation between two romantic interests in the past, or you notice how people will try to steal you away from others so that you both can hang out alone. It's also because you have a healing energy that people find addictive. There's something about your energy that's so calming. I think when you lock gazes with people, they feel a connection with you. It could also be your speaking voice that has this effect and you find yourself often acting as the mediator between disputing friends and family. However you coordinate your outfits and accessories, everything blends so well and people envy your sense of style. I can't pinpoint what style that is exactly, so I'm assuming this pile has a mix of aesthetics or has a hard time sticking to just one. You could be a fire sign or have fire prominent placements, specifically Sagittarius or Leo. I'm also getting a few Taurus's here as well.

⊱┈─✧

✨️ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ʀᴇꜱᴏɴᴀᴛᴇ:✨️

Fiery. High school. Small town. Concrete jungle. Bully. YouTube beauty bloggers. College. Suburban. Computers. Long, dark hair. Rainbow Barattes. Cream walls. Video editor. 16-21. Moving from home.

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧

౿૮꒰ྀི pile 3 ๑◞꒱ა

[So sorry, I forgot to type the cards!]

This is my manic-pixie-dream girl pile! Your beauty is mystical, earthy, and unique. People perceive you as one-in-million and they may stop and stare because they know they won't see someone like you again. I'm getting Uranus-dominant people here. You may have unique features like colorful hair, pixie cuts, braids, freckles, beauty spots, crooked noses or teeth, and young, bare, doll-like faces. These things, even if it's an insecurity to you, enhances your natural beauty and makes you all the more captivating to look at. It's like people get lost in you, there's never anything dull or plain about you, like if you have visible tattoos, people assume you have a dozen others hidden beneath your clothing and fantasize what they look like. Y'all must be my air signs, Libra, Aquarius, and Gemini. I'm also sensing some Virgos and Capricorns here, also members of the LGBT+. If you don't know it by now, you are the subject of many peoples fantasies. You look young, vigorous, and carefree. People may assume that you are flighty and don't carry much responsibilities, but also that you are unburdened by the world and its dark nature. You might give off a bohemian vibe. Maybe you follow a natural, healthy-oriented lifestyle, and people see you as being the poster girl/boy for a healthy, fit life. People really admire the way your body is cut. I see that you may wear lots of colors, for someone specific, I'm seeing brown, short ashy hair, and flowy clothing. Again, I think people dream of running away with you. Like by joining you, they could shed their boring lives, and ya'll could just live in the forest frolicking and letting loose, lol. You also may come off as peppy, and high-energy. You are a fantastic conversationalist. You never run out of things to talk about, and people just love to listen to you. You are literally a pixie/fairie and your beauty is so ethereal and magical.

⊱┈─✧

✨️ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ʀᴇꜱᴏɴᴀᴛᴇ:✨️

Track Runner. Crystals. Small town. Witchcraft. Virgo. Big City. Photographer. Multiple piercings. Shimmer. Ash brown or blonde. Home parties. Small-town bands. Silver rings. Small, brown poodle. Adventurer.

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧

౿૮꒰ྀི pile 4 ๑◞꒱ა

[10 of cups, Judgment (rx), Ace of Pentacles]

Your beauty Pile 4 is watery and dreamy. I'm sensing lots of Pisces here and cancer, or you have those placements in your chart. You look young, gentle and sweet. To me, the ten of cups represent happily-ever-after's, so people think you stepped straight out of a fairytale book. You are a traditional beauty and give off a princess-like vibe. People assume you are abundant and emotionally content. You give off a very calm, motherly aura. You're beauty can range from cute to beautiful, but either way people perceive you as marriage material and the perfect parent to their kids. You may have a soft, or high voice. I'm assuming that you like dresses, skirts, stockings, and corsets. Even if you don't dress this way, you fantasize about doing so. I sense your a creative and that your style will be quite unique and homely, like cottage-core, but also childlike like kawaii. Because of this judgment in reverse, I think you have a serious inner critic and you don't dress the way you want to. You hide what you really like out of fear of ridicule, but spirit is greenlighting you. They say you should snuffle out that inner critic and express yourself the way you want to. You'll feel and look much more confident, and your style will attract more admiration than criticism. You have to learn to be gentle with yourself. You already fit most people's type of attractive. People want to be generous with you. They sense this insecurity within you, and they want to show you that you are beautiful. If you think you're a diamond in the rough, they want to polish you and show you that you are just as beautiful outside as you are inside (cliche I know).

⊱┈─✧

✨️ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ʀᴇꜱᴏɴᴀᴛᴇ:✨️

Belle from Beauty and the Beast. Sky blue. Cartoons. Wavy hair. Colorful barrettes. Artist. Soft. Hopeless Romantic. Growth & development. Inner child. Lakes & streams. Flower field. Bookworm.

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧

ᴀɴʏ ᴄʀɪᴛɪᴄɪꜱᴍꜱ ᴏʀ ꜰᴇᴇᴅʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴀʀᴇ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇᴅ. ɪ'ᴍ ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴀ ɴᴇᴡ ᴅɪʀᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʙʟᴏɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴍ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴘɪɴɪᴏɴꜱ ᴀꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ɪᴍᴘʀᴏᴠᴇ ɪᴛ. ♡

ᴅɪꜱᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ

© lolita-bonita — Please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other social media platforms without my permission. This is the only platform that I post this type of content. If you see my work being posted anywhere else, please kindly report them to me. ♡

⊱┈───── ✧

✨️ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: Tarot is not an exact science, nor can it produce information that is factually true. All things posted are alleged and for entertainment purposes only. The future is fluid, and what may happen is based on your choices and actions, not what I and a deck of cards say. You are still the creator of your future. ✨️

[bogleech]

Do you like bug girls? Do u have a fave type of bug girl? What are ur favourite features of a bug? Feel free to ignore me if im being too imposing!♡

I'm more in the camp of not actively being into animal anthros, but finding that animal aspects just make a lot of character designs cooler or more stylish and I always have strong opinions on the aesthetics of invertebrates. My spouse does an animated series about two "bug girls" who are just literally gigantic (kaiju size) arthropods but they also have official anthropomorphic designs, too, and I think they look good both ways because they retain the key features that make arthropod faces cutely alien! There's also Putuk's cute diabolical wasp character who's more stylized and cartoony, also "alien" in that while not being a full realistic insect it's not too human. mainstream media examples:

GOOD: spider from James and the Giant Peach. "Human" face anatomy but stylized into something that is very inhuman or "alien like," in a way that's actually pretty.

BAD: spider from Bojack Horseman. Could have looked less creepy without either the human lips or the human eyes. When Bojack's lead character designer got her own show, Tuca and Bertie, bug characters almost always went full arthropod headed and it was much less nightmarish:

You wouldn't expect me to think so, but bug people with just 100% human faces still work, and if they still have a lot of detailed insect traits elsewhere, the human face just brings them out in a stylish way.

It strays further off the topic of "bug girls" specifically but the most unpleasant looking bug characters I know of are the Gallavants: