#the skirt thing isn't actually just a skirt. it's shorts with like. hanging bits in front and back to kinda look like a skirt. idk

[bordonfreeman]

Finally made an updated/official reference for my owl house oc for Art Fight! [Linked in my pinned post]

I've been meaning to do this for a while but never got around to it

[silver-itallics]

My Favorite Inside Source

Leon Kennedy x reader

Part 2!

Warnings: Non-con, drugging, kidnapping, kind of cnc, Leon being a weird old man and feeling bad about it

Title is from Rape Me by Nirvana

This is inspired by Waste Me from @gilfhub !! super cool awesome person I love their brain

This was a stupid idea.

Most of your ideas have been stupid recently.

But you feel stupid, so your antics fit.

You don't have enough self respect to care anyway.

There's a red solo cup in your hand, inside it a mix of alcohols that will probably give you liver damage in your thirties. Raising it to your lips, the drink isn't half bad.

Or maybe you're just too drunk to tell.

The alcohol burns your throat, making you feel a strange mix of nauseous and euphoric. Around you, everyone else seems to be in the same condition.

People grind against their partners in a sorry excuse for dancing, stumbling as much as you are.

It's perfect.

For the past few weeks, you've been doing this. Getting drunk or high out of your mind, sometimes both, in hopes of someone looking your way. You've exhausted your skimpiest of outfits, and worn enough makeup to provide for a beauty pageant.

You leave your cups unattended, and drink any suspicious substance you can get your hands on. You flirt without paying attention to any red flags, letting your neckline hang low enough to practically show nipples.

It's like you're begging to get scooped up and thrown in the back of a trunk.

Actually, what you want is worse than that.

All of your antics are an attempt to get bent over in a stranger's bedroom or a dirty bedroom while you scream "please, no!"

In your mind, no one will lay their hands on you unless you're one step away from unconsciousness.

Pretty girls get taken home. Pretty girls get paid attention to.

You, however, are begging to get raped.

Quite literally.

The last guy that came close enough to shoving his hands down your pants got scared away. You begged him to rape you; you were drunk enough for it to be considered the sort.

He pushed you off, calling you a freak and all sorts of names without even touching you.

Ever since then, your efforts have doubled.

You put your body on display, despite how unattractive you find it. Even in a skirt so short you can see your panties and a shirt so low cut your bra is showing, you barely get any attention.

Maybe it's your soft jawline, or hip dips. The lack of attention could be chalked up to your round tummy or the pimple below your lip. Or it could be your frizzy hair, or the fact that you only talk about three things.

You could make a list out of things you hate about yourself.

Instead, you're fishing for attention, using your tits and ass as bait on a hook.

Still, you keep coming up empty handed.

As you lean over the bar, purposely looking away from your drink, you can feel eyes on you. You push the thought away, your insecurities not believing that anyone would look at you that way. But actually, quite a lot of people look. Only because your pussy is practically hanging out of your skirt, but you catch their eyes anyway.

This time, though, you don't feel just a fleeting glance. You can feel staring.

Turning, you find the culprit. A man twice your age with shaggy dark blond hair watches you like a hawk. You're surprised, considering he's quite attractive. The guy is well built, with muscles and a sharp jawline with a bit of stubble. Pretty. You'll bite.

You give him a smile, playing up how drunk you are. However, it's not hard, considering you'd probably break a breathalyzer with how much alcohol is in your system. The fact that you haven't thrown up yet is a miracle.

Instead of walking over to him, you shift your focus to the bar once more, playing hard to get. Guys like that. At least you think they do. You've never really caught enough guys' attention to say for sure.

Shifting your hips, you arch your back to give him a good view of your panties. The skirt you're wearing is already quite short, but the angle makes the fabric slip up your behind even more. At least there's enough fat in your body to give you some semblance of an ass.

That seems to do the trick, as in a few minutes, you feel a warm hand on your lower back. Now that you've got his attention, time to reel him in.

"Hey handsome," you slur, stumbling a little. That gives you the opportunity to press your cup against his chest in hopes he takes the chance to roofie your drink.

The guy catches you, his hand slipping to your waist. You have to stop yourself from melting into his embrace and begging for it already. He smells like whiskey and gunpowder, and you can feel his strength in just the simple touch.

"Hey yourself."

You talk with him for a few minutes, making sure to compliment him as much as possible and insult yourself at every given chance. Playing the pathetic role isn't difficult, as you aren't really pretending.

Eventually, you learn the man's name is Leon, and as you guessed, he's quite a bit older than you. Almost twice your age. Which is even better in your twisted mind.

"Gonna go pee." You shove your cup into his hand, walking to the bathroom at the back of the bar. There's a long line, which gives Leon enough time to decide what to do with your drink.

At first, he protects it. His hand is wrapped around the opening, and he keeps an eye out for anyone that might have looked your way earlier.

But really, he should be protecting you from himself.

Leon didn't come here with the intention of taking anyone home. Especially unconscious.

But you played into his hands so perfectly, practically putting yourself on a silver platter for him. You probably wouldn't even notice if he slipped something in your drink.

Guilt twists in his stomach.

Girls were always hard for Leon. They liked his looks, but never stuck around long enough to appreciate his personality. At least that's what he told himself.

Except for you.

You liked both his looks and personality, easily charming jokes out of him. And you even laughed.

Some of them you genuinely found funny.

Plus, your self esteem was so low, you'd probably give him what he wanted if he asked politely. Still, there was the chance you'd fight, and he couldn't have that.

The thought made Leon feel sick.

What the hell was he doing?

As quickly as the nausea came, it subsided. The feeling was replaced with the memory that Leon hadn't had pussy in years. He knew you had a nice warm cunt that you'd turn over in minutes.

But you'd be tighter if he took it from you.

That was what helped him decide.

He was only a man, one with needs. You were a fragile, insecure girl.

This would be a cakewalk.

Leon slipped his hand into his back pocket, pulling out a few melatonin tablets. He kept them on him because he couldn't sleep most nights.

He probably wouldn't be sleeping after the guilt of what he was about to do, but the need to feel your plush walls was stronger than any morals Leon had.

Normally, he'd be better than this. But after his entire team got killed in front of him because of a stupid mistake he made, Leon hadn't been the same.

He dumped the pills into your drink.

They drop down to the bottom, fizzing as they start to dissolve. Hopefully the little tablets disappear fast enough for you not to notice. That way, the only evidence would be the effects you'd feel later. Hopefully he'd be able to keep you entertained long enough to scoop you up.

Just in time, you appear behind Leon, dragging your fingers up his arm.

"Sorry, line was long. Miss me?" You tease.

"Lots," Leon chuckles. He gives your drink a subtle shake before handing it back to you. Without even checking the contents, you take it.

"Protected it with my life."

You smile at Leon's stupid joke, taking a big swim of your drink. You really hope he put something in it.

"Well, thank you for your service."

Swishing your drink, you make sure not to look down at the liquid. Leon is glad you don't, as the pills at the bottom are still dissolving. God, he's even bad at drugging stupid sluts at bars.

The only thing he feels he's good at is guns.

They're easy, people aren't. When his gun jams, he knows exactly what to do. But Leon's mouth goes dry when you look at him with those doe eyes of yours.

The two of you talk a little longer, and you make sure to down your drink quickly. Once you get down to the bottom, your face twists a little at the unfamiliar taste. Leon notices, and panics a little. But he needs to be calm. Pretend like nothing's wrong.

So he claps a harsh hand on your shoulder, shaking your body with the motion. He almost forgets what he's doing as he watches your skin jiggle a little.

"It's okay, kid. I didn't like alcohol at first, either."

He manages a smile, but Leon knows he's an idiot. Calling the girl he's about to take home and fuck senseless a "kid" is not the right move. Even if fucking isn't the right word for what he's about to do to you.

Thirty minutes. Leon needs to occupy for thirty minutes, so that the melatonin kicks in. Surprisingly, the task isn't as hard as he thought. Even if you're a little annoying, you entertain yourself well, talking as if he cares. You're like a puppy chasing its own tail. He almost feels bad for what he's about to do.

Almost.

Leon pulls you closer as you yawn, supporting your weight on his biceps. Jeez, you're heavier than he thought you'd be. That might be a problem.

"'m sleepy," you mutter, completely forgetting what you came here for. Well, either way you wanted someone to take you home, and that's exactly what you're gonna get.

You lurch forward, feeling dizzy and sick. Even in this dazed state, you realize: you've actually been drugged. Fear creeps up your belly, latching itself on each of your ribs. For so long, you've fantasized about this, and now that it's happening, you're getting cold feet.

There's a look of inebriated panic on your face, clear as day. Feeling sluggish like jelly, you reach up, pointing a wobbly finger at Leon's chest.

"Leon… you…" slurring, you can't even get the words out. The bartender looks curiously at the two of you, to which Leon puts on one of those charming smiles of his. The one that's gotten him so far, the one he's mastered from years of kissing up to the president.

His hand slides into place around your waist, pushing down your accusatory finger.

"Think she's had too much to drink," he chuckles, looking down at you. "Haven't you, baby?"

Baby.

The word is enough to make you compliant. Leon's voice repeats in your head, putting you to sleep like one of those audiobooks you listened to as a kid.

Sleepily, you nod, relenting your body to him. You're like a bunny chasing a carrot on a string. Except you'd follow that carrot even if it led you into an active volcano. Leon almost pities you. But he pities himself more.

He's rough when he shoves you into the car, and you drift off in seconds. You're out like a light, so he's gotta work fast to get you to his apartment. Leon could always rape you in his car, but he's classier than that. He's a private man, even if he's a dick.

When you're finally on his bed is when he realizes what he's doing. Sprawled out on his pillows, your hair drifts out like a halo. With your eyes closed and lips parted, you look sweet. Even if you're not a blonde bombshell on the cover of playboy magazine.

You're just some girl, an average one.

Some might even call you a victim.

Leon feels nauseous again. Normally he can hold his whiskey, but this is a different type of sick feeling. He's sick in the head, and he knows it. Like a parasite in his head, one he can see, but can't remove.

That same parasite is what makes him crawl between your legs as you're sleeping, pressing his face to your panties. Nice ones, too. He lifts up your skirt to get better access and a better look at the lacy fabric covering your slit. He takes a deep whiff before pushing himself back up.

Leon's gotta work fast, as you're just asleep, not paralyzed. Another amateur mistake. He might have to concuss you if you make too much noise. Surprisingly, he's okay with that. He's broken plenty of skulls, and yours would be just one more. Except you're not infected with any disease, except for a similar one that he has, and you're not a war criminal.

Looking you over, Leon notices what little clothing you're wearing. Claire would tell him it's not good to say that girls are "asking for it", but it kinda seems like you are. He's not sure whether that makes this whole situation better or worse.

Whatever.

The top of your obnoxiously colorful bra peeks out from your shirt, and Leon tugs it down. Your boobs are average, but the first real ones he's seen without paying for them. Even if he'll probably pay for this later. Just not in money.

He's old now, and can't get hard as easily as before. But that doesn't stop his dick from trying to. Man, he's stooped low.

In his twenties, he had girls throwing themselves at him, but never the ones he wanted. Before, his expectations were high. But now he's getting chubbed from the sight of some average tits.

You're an average joe in almost every way. Boobs aren't too big, and your ass isn't huge either. You're mostly fat, which is probably to blame for most of your ass anyways.

But if Leon is good at anything, it's dealing with what he's given.

So he lowers his mouth down to one of your tits, taking your nipple in his lips. He's not as good at it as he used to be, but the skin hardens anyways. Maybe you're good at settling, too. Just like he is.

You squirm a little each time he sucks on your nipples, eyebrows creasing. Leon takes them both in his hands, and each of your boobs fit nicely in his palms. Maybe this isn't so bad.

He jerks his hips forward, trying to get his dick hard. You make it a little easier for him to get it up, compared to the night he spends alone. At least he has some material tonight that's not on paper or a screen.

Your panties are starting to get wet, which is fine, even if he'd prefer you a bit drier. You'd be tighter that way.

He leaves most of your clothes on, figuring you'd be less violated than way. Leon's line of thinking doesn't always make the most sense, but he does it anyways. When he pulls away your underwear, he chuckles a little. You've got a pretty pussy for an average joe, but with a hack job of pubes.

At least you smell nice.

He slides your underwear off your legs, tossing them into a drawer in his nightstand. A keepsake. Trophy. Or maybe material if you ever get away. Probably evidence if you ever go to the police.

Maybe Leon's life will turn around if he gets arrested. Or the president will just break him out and he'll be back to fighting nightmares day and night.

He's trapped in this stupid job. But he's not trapped with you. With you, Leon finally has control. He can make you jerk by playing with your nipples and whine when he kisses your clit. But being nice is boring.

Normally he'd eat a girl out, for the sake of chivalry or whatever. But this is about him, not you. You don't have control here.

He pushes his jeans to his knees, just enough to get his dick out. At least it's hard now, from the sight and smell of your pussy. Probably your best feature.

When he presses the tip against your pretty folds, you gasp. The first sound you've made tonight. Leon doesn't find the noise to be unbearable, so he keeps going.

When he pushes in, he's the one that makes a noise. You're tight as hell, and just wet enough to slip in, but not too much to be sloppy. Christ, you squeeze him like you're trying to kill him.

This is when you wake up. If the state you're in can even be considered consciousness. You feel like you're dreaming, but you fight Leon off anyways. Or try to. The way you push at him is pretty cute honestly. Similarly to how a kitten plays with a piece of string.

"Leon! Stop… it hurts…"

Your smaller hands push at his clothed chest, and he easily catches both of them in one of his larger hands. Sure, you wanted to be raped, but now that you are, you're scared. The fear in your eyes is laughable.

"Thought you wanted this," he mumbles out, struggling to push into your tight walls. You bleed a little, which helps him slide in. Leon's used to blood on his hands, or really everywhere. But never his dick.

Now you're crying. You feel stupid, incredibly so. But Leon's only focusing on the bounce of your tits and stomach, the tight squeeze of your cunt.

"I did!" You hiccup. Your hands still push at his own, despite the fact he's got you pinned and straddled. "I- I don't know!"

Your sobs subside as you focus more on the feeling. The pain is still there, of course, you haven't had dick in years. But it feels good in the same way that popping pimples does or sticking safety pins in your fingers.

Even in sex, you're self destructive. You stop fighting, even starting to enjoy it a little. With the melatonin still in your system, you drift in and out of sleep, which probably helps your case. Leon's thrusts are a little too rough to take fully conscious.

"There we go," he says, speeding up. He's taken to a rhythm that feels good for him, and if you like it too, that's fine. He'll hate himself afterwards either way.

Leon grabs your chin, squishing your chubby cheeks between his fingers. He lets go of your hands, which fumble for his shirt, but not to push him off this time. You're pulling him in even closer. Wiping the tears off your cheeks, the older man smiles down at you. It's sadistic, but a smile nonetheless.

"Good sluts take what they're given, yeah?"

You whine, nodding dumbly. Your tongue feels numb in your mouth and your pussy feels sore. In a way that you probably shouldn't like. Leon's fucking you in a way that will probably cause you to book an appointment with a pelvic floor therapist.

He grunts, and your eyes go all starry. Leon ignores the stupid look you're giving him, splaying his hands on your fat thighs, spreading them further. He's close.

Maybe fifteen years ago, he'd be able to last longer or be kinder to you. But the squeeze of your cunt and soft, slick noises are driving him crazy. Crazier than he has to be to do something like this.

He's about to tell you of the predicament, figuring you'd be relieved. But you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling his hips flush with yours. The pain of his dick hitting your cervix makes you a little nauseous, but you're sick enough to like the sting. Your head is thrown back in a moan as he cums inside of you.

For a moment, Leon feels like he's actually fucking someone he cares about, not just some slut he drugged at a bar. There's a sense of normalcy as his brain goes fuzzy with the orgasm. Your tight pussy makes him cum so hard he sees stars. Something that hasn't happened in years.

But when he comes down, slumping on top of you and breathing heavily, he realizes what he's done. Leon rolls over to the other side of the bed, giving you more than enough space. You're falling back asleep already when the post nut clarity hits him like a truck.

He almost cries, even if he's not the one that is currently bleeding onto his sheets from being treated so roughly. There's even slight bruises on your jaw and hips from where he'd been grabbing you all night. Feels like the night he planned to kill himself all over again. That time he had Sherry to keep him alive, but now she's all grown up and better off without him.

You mumble something in your sleep, causing Leon to turn his head to look at you. He didn't even have the patience to undress you fully; your tits are haphazardly pulled out of your shirt, and your skirt is bunched up around your hips. He didn't even look close enough at your body, the way you deserve. The way he can't give you.

God, he's an asshole.

Or probably even worse than that.

Leon watches you sleep. You're not the prettiest, or the most confident, but now he's stuck with you. Trapped the way he is with his job. In a strange way, he feels connected to you. Not in a love way, but in the way that the bruises on your jaw are in the shape of his fingers. Not anyone else's.

Maybe he won't end it tonight. Maybe he'll stay alive another day. Since he roughed you up so badly, and you're still living. Even if you're leaking a mixture of cum and blood on his sheets. Stupid thing, did nobody teach you to pee after sex? But Leon's not going to wake you. He's probably not even going to get up, either. You'll have matching UTI's and be stuck even closer in this fucked up spiderweb he's created between the two of you.

Sometime past five in the morning is when Leon falls asleep. Surprisingly, he's been given a decent vacation after his last screw up. God knows how long that'll last.

When he wakes up, blinding light filtering in through his dusty apartment, the first thing he sees is you. You're laying on his chest, still barely dressed. Your arms are wrapped around his waist, and you're drooling a little on his shirt.

He's not even considerate enough to try not to wake you, shoving you to the side so he can go pee. You fall to the side, blinking slowly as you wake up.

"Where are you going?" You ask, voice scratchy from sleep and all the crying you did last night. Screaming, too.

Leon can't even look at you. He's still stuck in that state of realization. Because now he knows what he is. Before, he was the golden boy, the president's favorite. But now he's a rapist and overall a big splotch of a mistake.

"Gotta piss," he grumbles, already halfway in the bathroom. You watch him curiously, as if you want to come in. Leon immediately shuts the door, a bit too harshly.

He stays in the bathroom too long. Your blood and other fluids dried on his dick and pelvis, which he only cleans off because it's itchy. But also because he doesn't really want to be reminded of what he did. Leon wishes he could clean off last night like the dried blood on his skin.

But he knows he can't.

Once he's done, he stumbles into the kitchen, planning on downing a bottle of whiskey for breakfast. Or lunch. It's already past noon.

Leon's plan comes to a screeching halt as he smells food cooking. You're fully dressed again, albeit, without underwear.

All of the guilt he's been feeling all night can't compare to the absolute misery he feels watching you.

The girl he raped last night.

You're cooking breakfast for him, like a little housewife.

The fact that you're not crying even hurts more. You're humming softly, poking around some bacon in a pan with a spatula. Somehow, you found something to cook for him, though he's been living off of takeout and microwave meals for about a week now.

After a few minutes of staring is when you notice that Leon is there. You turn, confirming the fact that you're cooking for him.

"Hey," you're smiling at him, bright doe eyes and rosy cheeks. "I just wanted to say thanks for last night."

God. What the hell has he done?

[sugar-omi]

could i possible request fem!cove and fem MC?? just little head canons both sfw and nsfw! i have nothing entirely specific in mind but just anything that you'd like 😊

THE SMILE ON MY FACE *KICKS FEET* HEHE OF COURSE YOU CAN eta now that im done: this is a big mindless, nonsense ramble i. im sorry. i was having the biggest gay panic of my life thinking abt her LMFAO 💀💀

tags : SFW + NSFW, fem/afab cove and reader, oral (cove receiving, reader receiving ment), menstruation ment,

synopsis : me losing my mind over fem!cove 🏌️

SFW

she's not much different to cove already ofc

but in my head she shines so bright omfg...

i like to imagine she's buff no matter what

washboard abs, toned arms and thighs...

but then think abt studious!cove

i want her to be soft....

bitta tummy, thighs perfect to wrap around your head... just squishy

so torn between the two. pls i can't she's PERFECT

either way, strong enough to pick you up

if big n buff she princess carries you all the time

if you do the same back tho, once you put her down she can't stand on her feet

she's swooning. actually falling. she's in love....

MATCHING CLOTHES

ah. you two going shopping and you seeing a dress n getting it for her....

she wears it on your next date, all shy and cute because she doesn't wear dresses often

dies if you give her attention over it, especially if you make a risque comment- she can't handle it

definitely lets you put makeup on her, she's just not good so if you are, please help...

once you see her in lip gloss for the first time, please kiss her and make a comment like "your lips looked so delicious, i couldn't help it" or "i like that color on you, do you think it'd suit me too?"

and then make it a habit bc now she's buying many lip glosses so you can kiss her silly <333

back to the doesn't wear dresses/skirts often thing

i think she's very active

always in shorts, t-shirt, tank top...

i wanna put her in a 2 piece suit

nice black slacks and a vest

the vest accentuating her chest because of it's low cut..

but i'd most likely to put her in a pretty dress for the ORCA dinner

does her best to dress up, even gets a bit of help from randy bc she is definitely a bit lost when it comes to fashion

but when you see her she literally knocks the breath outta you

she IS the prettiest girl in the world

ohhh her in the low light of the dinner, the blue lights just making her look so magical

pls she's everything to me

SHE STEALS YOUR CLOTHES.

OMG HER SLEEPING IN YOUR T-SHIRT!!!!

if your shirt is big n baggy on her she looks so cute...

although if your clothes run smaller or she's in a crop top/tight shirt....

imma save that for NSFW...

if you like painting your nails, she'll match!!!

isn't good at keeping them from getting chipped, but she does her best

omfg so i've seen some people say that their periods sync with their girlfriends (me n my bestie are always synced istg!!!!)

that's you and cove

you two usually know that if you got it, the other got theirs or is getting theirs

even if you get on birth control or have say pcos or smth like that that causes your periods to be irregular/disappear, pls still comfort n hang out w her!!!

i think hers is quite irregular as well so sometimes she's the one comforting you

now im projecting af, but when she gets it it's heavy!!!

not projecting but she definitely cramps, sometimes worse than others

either way, she loves cuddling up together and watching movies and stress eating snacks with you

anyway moving on before i add smth else<3333

NSFW

still a professional pussy eater !!!

(i watch this podcast and i need yall to see *this clip bc i just wanna say.... cove would definitely eat pussy to the bone. he's a DAWG!!!!)

probably even better at navigating your cunt since it's familiar territory

NOW ABOUT HER TITTIES IN THAT TIGHT SHIRT<33

she does her damnedest to NOT wear a bra, usually wears a sports bra

but again, she prefers no bra <3

and sometimes she gets away with it

but i love the idea of her waking up, her shirt all wrinkled and crooked, making it more fitting than it already is.

you can't focus on your cereal because she's shuffling towards you, nipples straining against the thin fabric.

cove flopping next to you on the couch, stealing bites of your cereal. and before she knows it, you kissed her breathless and all but snatch her shirt off, enticed by the rise and fall of her chest.

cupping cove's tits in your hands, she's so soft, and cove let's out the prettiest whimper when you brush your fingers over her nipples

if you suck on her chest, you get an even better reaction, cove rewarding you with loud moans and desperate calls of your name.

her hands in your hair, legs shaking and thighs clenching around you, totally ruined when you slip your hand into her sleep shorts, your fingers running over her darling clit.

she's cute<333

ah. i had a thought that i wanted to share earlier hehe

double sided dildo w cove....

holding hands while you both fuck back on the toy, cove hooking her legs over yours and getting as close as possible to play with your chest and kiss you..

ohh but would love if you got on top, the toy hitting both of you so deep inside, cove's body bouncing from the force of your hips

oh my fucking god.

she's a squirtter

arghh imma lose my MIND

imagine the first patreon moment, and you have her laid out all pretty in her bed, her legs over your shoulders and a hold on her thighs to keep her from crushing your head.

her thighs trembling in your hold, feet bumping against your back and she's clawing at the sheets, whining and moaning so pretty about how your tongue feels so good, low curses slipping from her lips...

tries pushing you away, tears in her eyes.

"y/n- oh god.. wait, i'm- imma make a mess!" she whimpers, throwing her head back when you just suck on her clit more intensly, your fingers curling against her spongy walls, loud squelches coming from your ministrations.

would make such a mess, the covers under her butt getting soaked in her fluids, it's even running down your neck and chest, a sight she has to tear her eyes away from when she finally comes down from her high.

would look so pretty too, her eyes rolled back and thighs trembling, back arching up and she'd fuck back on you, milking her orgasm and whimpering from any minor touch to her sensitive body..

oh and she'd peek at you through wet, spidery lashes, her pretty blues look so brilliant and darling even with the low light of the room and once she stops covering her face with her arm/fingers, you can see the bright blush on her face.

jfc she'd be such a sight, you might have to do her again just to make sure you don't forget it.

[sadesluvr]

Mickey Altieri x Sorority! Reader HC's

A/N: Heyy! This is my first time writing for SCREAM so please be nice :) Mickey is literally babygirl and I wanted more content of him! There's not much smut in this, but I might make these a full fic idk >:3

Right out the bat Mickey isn’t the biggest fan of sorority girls - We all saw what he did to Cece, but…

You meet the group through Sid and Hallie at a costume party, dressed as a cat

Mickey’s first instinct is to judge you for being basic, but takes an interest once you recognise Randy’s obscure horror movie costume

They both quiz you on movies and even though you can’t answer everything, they definitely like you

He sees Randy taking too much of an interest in you and sends him off to get drinks

He uses the opportunity to get you alone. The liquor is flowing through both of you and you end up having a drunken kiss

Normal stuff for a college party ----

After this he secretly becomes obsessed

Enemies to lovers from here on!!

'Oh Mickey!' is your song

You’re different w/o alcohol, a little more ‘stuck up’, but still nothing like the 'other' girls ™️ (Mickey's thoughts, not mine!)

MICKEY TEASES YOU ABOUT EVERYTHING! - “Come on YN, you’re an adult, why do you still call your dad ‘Daddy’?” / “Maybe we can use YN’s $500 bracelet to help us see in the dark,”

You return the energy right back - “It’s Tiffany’s, and it was only $350,”💅

He rolls his eyes or smirks but loves arguing with you

He dangles the drunk kiss over your head CONSTANTLY 

“You didn’t hate me that night when we —“

You constantly deny it but you’re playing hard to get, really

EVERYBODY can see what’s going on, even if they’re a little bit confused bc you’re from different worlds

He drops in on a your clubs/rallies/parties etc, just to agitate you

He brings you gifts as a ‘joke’, like flowers or coffee to make fun of how high maintenance you are but it’s an act of love

LOVES watching you get ready. He’s proud as fuck to have a hot, rich girlfriend and he’s going to show/tell everyone about it - “Pink is definitely your colour…”

He's a little diva

Lots of giggles and teasing

He may be a psycho but he’s actually rather romantic

When you finally hang out with him in his setting - Either at the movies or his dorm etc, he’s totally different 

He still makes fun of you, but genuinely wants to know you more

Gets you to talk about yourself, (maybe for the wrong reasons) and you only learn basic things about him

He’s kind of a mystery but you like it

He isn't surprised to find out your Dad has a high powered job, but gets REALLY turned on when he finds out you’re the daughter of a lawyer

For obvious reasons, you become more alluring to him then

A cute, peppy sorority girl from a family of lawyers sleeping with a ruthless killer? It’s dangerous, and Mickey LIVES for danger 

He’d even be willing to get caught just to have your Dad defend him

It’s the ultimate power play

Calls you up as Ghostface that night to give you a bit of a spook - “I can tell you’re a Daddy’s girl. I’ve seen you around campus, with your fancy watches and pretty necklaces…Tell me, what does he do? Oh, a lawyer? I don’t like those…”

He cums so hard to the thought of ruining you; tearing off your short skirts and preppy blazers to run his knife over your body whilst your Dad watches, totally defenceless 

Shortly after this he asks you out on an actual date

He’s confident but is somewhat surprised when you say yes 

“You know ‘Daddy’ wouldn’t approve of me, right?” / “He doesn’t have to know…”

The sexual tension is off the roof now

You do it in your bedroom even though boys aren’t allowed in the sorority house, and the danger gets him riled up

That and your expensive lingerie

You don’t GAF when Cece and the other girls vote you out of the sorority 

She doesn’t last long after this anyway

As you date he keeps you in the dark as much as possible about his Ghostface antics, but he’s not hiding himself either. He’s more than prepared for drama should the ‘sick fuck’ be caught.

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Into It [werewolf!Frankie x f!reader]

Read on Ao3

My Frankie Morales masterlist

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Ship: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x you (cishet f!reader)

Warnings: Frankie is a werewolf (but not really), corn maze, jump scares, Benny is a clown in more ways than one (and a bit of an arse tbh), public sex, unprotected piv sex, Frankie has a knot on his dick and believe you me it goes inside you, you like it rough, dirty talk, a bit of praise (him to her), creampie, implied cum eating and cunnilingus.

Summary: You are lost in a corn maze where ghosts and ghouls roam, and you are being chased by a werewolf named Frankie...

Words: 3,489

The moon hangs low and when a few clouds obscure it, your eyes strain to see the path before you. The wind sweeps through the corn stalks, and the hushed rustling of the leaves makes the small hairs at the back of your neck stand. It's so quiet, apart from that faint sound, but you know that you're not alone, you've seen the glowing eyes and dark shapes, heard the quick footsteps disappear around a corner.

Getting into this corn maze was a bad idea, you knew it from the start. What harm would it do, you had thought. All the harm, you now realize. You could die here. You could get jumped, you could...

Your breath gets stuck in your throat when a caped figure appears before you and stares at you through the dark, before dismissing you and slipping away in another direction. Your red cape isn't warm enough, and you suddenly feel chilled to the bone. You want to go home, away from all this danger, get warm and comfortable and not lost in a goddamn corn maze, like you are now. Screams behind you put you on edge, and two witches run past, cackling like maniacs. Witches are nothing to be afraid of: you know there are worse things in here. You follow the witches, but by the time you turn the same corner, they're already gone. More screaming is heard in the distance, chilling screams of fear. You walk faster, almost start jogging, turning a corner and finding it a dead end. A howl close by sends chills down your spine.

Huge, clawed paws land on your waist, a low growl reverberates into your core. You yelp as you get pulled against the wide frame of a werewolf.

"Roarr, I'm going to eat you!"

You break into relieved laughter. "Dammit Frankie!"

Turning around, you see the werewolf with its latex sneer take off its head, revealing a cheekily smiling Frankie with tousled hair underneath.

"Did I scare you?"

"No, but those plastic claws are going to rip my dress!"

He wraps one arm around you, the dark grey fur of his wolf costume warming you immediately.

"Oh, this dress is going to be ripped tonight..."

Unabashedly, he gazes into your cleavage as his paw slides down to your ass. You roll your eyes.

"Slutty Little Red Riding Hood, how tacky isn't that?"

"Terrible tacky," Frankie replies in a way that tells you in no uncertain terms that he is incredibly happy with your mini dress with plunging neckline and short, ruffled skirt. The bodice, laced tightly to push your tits up even more, and thigh high stockings crown your outfit, and Frankie couldn't be happier.

"It's a good thing I'm in this lumpy costume," he murmurs against your cheek. "I'm so hard right now, if anyone saw, they'd think I was a perv."

"You are a perv," you tease him, "but you're my perv."

"Excuse me, Miss Hood," he rumbles, now nipping at your earlobe. "I seem to remember that the conversation about our plans for tonight went in a way that actually points you out as the perv."

You just scoff, then turn your head to allow him access to your neck. He scatters little kisses and love bites all over your skin, pausing only to grunt and curse when you find his stiff shaft and rub it through the tight front of his jeans.

"Little girl," he hisses, "Let's go find grandma's house."

"You don't want me to suck your big bad cock right here...?" you suggest leerily, and Frankie exhales in a hushed Fuck.

"We'll be seen."

"We could find a dark corner."

"Jesus..." His paw caresses the roundness of your buttock, coming to a rest just where you ass meets your thighs, pushing you into him.

"We don't have to - " you start, sensing his hesitation. Frankie may be a beast in bed, but that's in the comfort and privacy of your own home. Laughing and screaming in the distance underscores how public this place is.

"Let's do it," he rules, and you both turn around to try and find a secluded enough spot.

A wild-eyed Pennywise jumps out right in front of you, screeching in a way that shouldn't be humanly possible. You scream, startled and scared at the sudden attack, your blood going ice cold for a moment, panic rising when the clown grabs your arm.

"Knock it the fuck off, Benjamin!"

Frankie shoves the clown away, and it starts to laugh.

"Oh my God, your face!"

You're still shaking, but fear is slowly being replaced by rage.

"Benny, you asshole! You know I hate jump scares and clowns!"

"That's why it worked so well!"

"Not cool," Frankie growls, pulling you into him as if to protect you. "Let's go, baby."

"I'm sorry!" Benny shouts after you when you walk away. Your legs are a little wobbly, but Frankie's warm, secure presence makes you feel better.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I just got startled," you reassure him. "It's fine."

"I'll have a talk with him tomorrow. He's too drunk right now."

"You really don't need to, let's just forget about it."

A few monsters and ghouls run past, but now it all feels like adults in costumes to you. A shudder runs through you, and Frankie stops to kiss your head.

"You wanna just get out of this maze, have a mug of hot cider, and then leave?" he suggests. Truth be told, that's an attractive suggestion. You don't feel like blowing him in public anymore.

"That sounds perfect."

Frankie, with his military training, seems to have a mental map of the maze, because he leads you with confidence out of the maze like he's walked it a hundred times before. Just as you exit, you pass by Santi who looks like an East European nobleman, his fake vampire teeth grazing the neck of a young brunette dressed as a slutty Harry Potter character.

The cider warms you up and calms your nerves, and by the time you've finished your mug, you're feeling up for erotic adventures again.

"Can we leave?" you ask Frankie as soon as the mug is empty.

"Home?"

"To our spot."

"Oh. You still wanna - "

"I do."

His velvety gaze rests heavily on your skin when he leads you to his truck.

"Our spot" is outside of town. Off the highway, along a smaller country road, then off on a narrow dirt road with grass growing between the tire tracks. There are fields all around, and smack in the middle of them is a small hill with a huge, old oak. A distant cousin of Frankie’s owns the surrounding fields, and they don't mind you using the land. You and Frankie often come here in the summer when the oak provides shelter from the sun. You've been here in the fall, too, stargazing from the bed of Frankie's truck.

And now you're here to fulfill a fantasy.

Frankie has prepared the truck with blankets and pillows, and even a small string of fairy lights. He's still in his werewolf costume, the paws and head are off, but his torso is still covered by fake fur and a half-torn plaid. As he rolls out the bedding, you walk to the oak to find the carving he put in its bark the first time you came here. You find it immediately, having seen it countless times before. Your initials inside a heart, simple and sappy. You trace the letters with your index finger, and you hear a low growl behind you, so you turn around.

Werewolf Frankie is standing by the truck, eyes fixed on you. Your heart skips a beat when he crouches a little and starts towards you.

"No," you whisper, moving around the trunk of the tree, trying to keep it between the two of you. Frankie, however, is quicker on his feet, and with just a few long leaps, he reaches you and has you caged against the tree.

"Smells good," he grunts, catching your wrists and trapping them against the bark above your head. "Pretty and sweet..."

He nuzzles your neck, the latex nose cold on your skin in the October night air.

"Please," you breathe, and his large paw runs down your leg and settles over your sex. You buck against him, making him chuckle.

"Needy, pretty thing..." His voice, muffled by the mask, has dropped one octave and is delightfully raspy.

He pushes up against you, letting you feel his hardening cock. Your arousal bleeds into your panties and the chilly air immediately chills the wet fabric, but your insides are on fire. You whimper, struggling while also rolling your hips against his, seeking that stiff outline of his cock in his pants.

"You want that, don't you?"

The sound you produce is pitiful and Frankie's low chuckle turns you on even more.

"You'll have it."

He drags you with him to the truck, maneuvering you roughly, yet not without care, to a bent over position.

"Spread your legs."

The cool night air feels even colder on the wet insides of your thighs, and a shiver runs through you when Frankie grinds his erection against your clothed core. The plastic claws aren't sharp, but they still make you hiss when he draws them down your thighs. His denim-clad leg touches your bare one when he kneels between your spread legs, and then his growling wolf face pushes against your pussy. He draws in your scent in loud sniffs, and you moan at how the teeth-baring mouth of the mask feels against you. Shamelessly, you push back, wishing the mask came with a live tongue as well.

Frankie sinks the claws into the flesh of your thighs and rumbles low as he rubs the mask against you. The friction is delectable, and you keen loudly, your lower lip trapped between your teeth, hands fisting into the blanket in front of you. You start to push back, move your hips like when you're riding his face, and that's what you're doing now, too: you're riding his face, the wolf face that he put on for you when you suggested that you'd go to the Halloween event as Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf, and that he'd ravage you in the back of his truck later. He was game: Frankie was always game for whatever you suggested, even if he was against the more violent expressions of your suggested roleplay, like hunting you down and fucking you on the ground while you screamed for help. Truth be told, after the stunt Benny pulled in the corn maze, this is exactly the right amount of excitement you need. And this mask, with its wrinkled nose and bared teeth, is doing wonders for you pussy, but it's not going to be able to make you cum. For that, you need more direct stimulation.

"Frankie," you keen, "I need more, please, I can't stand it!"

Frankie stops, goddamn him, he stops. You moan out a protest and Frankie snarls at you. He shoves up your skirt, grabs your panties, and tears them off you. The fabric rips and he shoves you forward.

"Get up."

You crawl onto the bed of the truck, shivering with your ass bare in the evening air. The suspension dips momentarily when Frankie gets up behind you, pawing your ass and tracing a claw between the cheeks down to your dripping core. You push back a little, swallowing when you hear him chuckle.

"So eager... so wet... You need a big, stiff dick to fill you up, don't you?"

"Yes," you manage to answer, head light with anticipation. "I need it, please give it to me."

The belt buckle rattles, then the fly zips open. He lets out a low rumble of relief and take a moment to get himself ready. You know what he's doing: he's putting on the sleeve, that latex thing you ordered online and almost shyly presented to him. The werewolf sleeve with a knot at the root, so insignificant when you measure and tried to imagine it before ordering, so huge when you saw it in person and realized that it was supposed to go inside you. Frankie had been skeptical - he was big enough on his own - but he was also curious, and he loved the fire he saw in you when you suggested that he'd fuck you like an animal. That you wanted to try to take the knot.

You're practically drooling now, knowing that you'll get it soon.

Frankie's paw in between your shoulder blades, and he pushes your chest down onto the bedding. His cock drags between your swollen lips, bumping into your clit before the head slips in, teasing you with the promise - or threat - of how well he could fill you, but doesn't just yet. You exhale in a whine, and Frankie replies with a similar, albeit lower moan, before sliding in, all the way up to the knot.

"Fuck," you keen into the blanket that your face is resting against, "fuck, that's good, that feels so good..."

He pulls out slowly and slams into you anew, drawing a shout from you. He then repositions himself, comes off his knees and onto his feet with bent knees into bulldog, and starts to batter you with his stiff cock. Hands on your upper back, he's pressing you down into the blankets, and you bite into the fabric to keep from getting too loud as he thrusts hard into you, again and again. The truck bed creaks and rocks, your bodies make the music of lewd, wet slapping as he assaults your pussy, and you grip the blanket until your knuckles are white.

"So wet and tight," Frankie pants above you, his furry werewolf torso plastered over your back as he rails you mercilessly. "So desperate for my fat cock, you wanted it so badly, didn't you?"

"Yes!" you cry out, each thrust into your core stealing away a little bit of your breath and brain. Your chin feels cold, and you realize that you're drooling, but you don't care if you look like a cock-hungry slut because that's what you are and you're loving it.

The knot keeps jamming against your slick opening, but Frankie doesn't seem willing to try to cram it in just yet. Your legs are shaking and giving way underneath you, and you almost slide down onto your stomach, but Frankie pulls you back up.

"Stay on your knees!" he snarls. "Don't you dare lie down!"

You gasp something to let him know you're listening, you're compliant, you'll do anything he tells you to. The plastic claws scratch your thigh, and you brace yourself on the soft warm blankets underneath you to stay on your hands and knees.

"Good girl..."

He moves in you just right, he knows what you want and need, and he's giving it to you.

"I'm a good girl," you keen, and his big paw strokes your back. Your pussy clenches, slick and heat pooling as your body sets into a higher gear.

"You are such a good girl," he confirms, breathless voice muffled behind the mask. "So good for me, taking my big cock like this..."

The praise zaps out your brain, and you start to push back on his thrusts.

"Harder, fuck me harder, I wanna cum!"

He knows just what you do, and when you're wailing out your orgasm, arms and legs shaking, he pushes you down on your stomach, ass still up.

"The knot, the knot, gimme the knot!"

The pressure is nothing like you expected: sharp and agonizing as the knot slowly presses into you. You only realize that you're holding your breath when you hear Frankie murmur "Breathe, sweetness, just breathe, you can do it" behind you, and you exhale with a shrieked Oh my God!

"It'stoo much," Frankie frets, pulling out, but you push back.

"Nonono, do it, I need it, do it, please please please!"

Once again, the mass inches into you, and this time you meet it halfway, jamming your ass against Frankie's hips, swallowing the knot and once again losing your breath at how full you are, full to the point of tearing, a string of Oh my God oh my God oh my God fuck fuck fuck spilling from you as you fist the blankets to hard that your knuckles go white.

Through the searing burn, you start to feel the adrenaline. Fuck, that's big, but you got it. You have it all in you, you're doing it, oh my God that's tight but you got it, even if it burns, you got it, and you start to relax and Frankie moans somewhere near your ear, and you flex your walls around him and he moans again, deliciously.

"Fuck me," you beg, "Frankie, fuck me now, with the knot, fuck me and fill me up, I need you to cum inside me, take me, just fuck me!"

He covers you, the polyester fur warm and itchy as he takes you with slow, almost lazy yet deep rolls of his hips, the knot pushing easier into you now, arms with furry, clawed paws around your shoulders and neck, and when he pushes in one last time to empty himself in your core, your eyes roll back and you sob with relief that it's over.

And still, you never want it to be over.

Frankie is still buried in you, has you buried under him, shielding you from the increasing coolness of the October night. It's not until he carefully inches out of you that you realize just how cold it is, and your whine is a protest both against that, against him pulling out, and an expression of your soreness. Frankie immediately throws a blanket over you, then takes off the werewolf head.

"Goddammit, this thing's cooking me alive!"

You open your eyes and try to focus, finding the werewolf snarling right beside you. A pleasurable shiver runs through you, and then you feel the burning heat of Frankie's breath on your neck.

"Are you okay?"

You can only hum, dazed as you still are. Frankie shoves the werewolf head out of the way and lies down next to you, his face just inches away from yours.

"Talk to me, baby."

"Can't," you mumble throatily, and he chuckles.

"Okay."

In the light of the stars and fairy string lights, you see that his face is red and dripping with sweat, his disheveled curls wet and plastered onto his head. His breathing is still labored, and the puffs of air are hot against you.

It's so fucking sexy.

Your pussy is still throbbing, slick and sloppy as his cum oozes out and stains your thighs. You've never felt so filthy, and you're loving it.

Finally, you draw a deep breath and open your eyes to Frankie's attentive gaze.

"I'm good," you tell him, and are immediately rewarded with a smile.

"You liked it, then?"

"Liked it?" you scoff huskily. "Fuck, Frankie... it's the best sex we ever had."

"Not better than that time we..."

"Okay, not better than that," you smile wryly, knowing what occasion he's referring to. "But top three, definitely."

"Really?"

"Frankie... I know you weren't into it from the start but I'm so grateful you decided to give it a try."

You scoot closer and kiss him softly.

"It means so much that you wanted to give this to me."

"I want to make you happy," he whispers against your lips. "And I did like it. You were so fucking hot, baby. When you took the knot, you were... feral. I've never seen you like that."

His hand slides in under the blanket, finding a plump breast straining out of the bodice.

"The costume works for me, too."

His hand travels up your chest, neck, and stops by your cheek, his big thumb dragging over your lips.

"And your lipstick is all smeared out. It's really fucking hot."

You chuckle, flushed from his praise. Frankie kisses you again before letting his lips wander down your cheek and jawline.

"Now that we've done what you're into... can we do the thing that I'm into?"

You bite down on your lower lip, but the giggle still finds its way out.

"Which is?"

Frankie continues to kiss his way down the exposed parts of your body, moving blankets and himself until he's settled between your legs. He collects his spend from around your cunt before pushing it back in with two fingers, lips latching onto your clit.

Your back arches and you see stars, literally, along with the lights strung up on the back of the cabin. The discarded werewolf head grins at you from a corner, and you smile back before your eyes fall shut and you give yourself to pleasure once more.

[bi4pan-polls]

Poll: round 2a #4

[ Image ID. AN image of Amelie Maçon and Rashmi Jamil from Entropic Float. They are standing next to each other, with Rashmi be hide Amelie. Amelie is holding her own arm and Rashmi is learning forward toward her, comfortingly. Amelie has light skin, and long pink hair in pigtails tried with black scrunchies. She is wearing a pink beanie, black glasses, a pink checkered coat, and a white skirt over hot pick pants with a bunch of black question marks on it as a design. She has black shoes. Rashmi has brown skin, and black hair that is mostly short but with long part in front. They are wearing a grey turtleneck, and black short shorts. They have on a brown jacket that is hanging off their shoulders, and a key necklace. they have on yellow headphones. They have long white socks and black shoes, and an image of 2 ocs, their images edited togther. On the left is Mel. She has a hot pink, long dress that puffs out. It is plad and has a black designs around it, she has pale skin, a mark on the left side of her face which goes down to her neck, and short brown hair. She has blue, purple and green in her eyes. On the right is Cree. He has short blond hair, and pale skin, he is wearing grey overalls over a green long sleeved sweater , that has a feather design over it, you can see the collar of a white button down under the green sweater. He is wearing sneakers. He has a Green right eye and a orange left eye, and he has eyebags. End ID]

info on Mel and Cree from @melodemonica

mel is a demon (not the biblical kind) and studies whats basically magic biology + psychology =D she also really enjoys traveling and wood carving! cree is human and i originally made him a lawyer of some kind but currently that's up in the air lol, he loves bad tv shows and pointing out the inaccuracies in them! they watch horror movies together and laugh at how stupid the characters are <3

Cree is trans

mel is as previously mentioned, a demon, she is thusly immortal so you can imagine the kind of angst that causes considering cree is a human dude, also since i've only mentioned this in some tags, cree is canonically trans

cree is the sole braincell in their friend group most of the time and he only uses it when he finds it funny or when his friends' shenanigans go a bit too far and they need bailing out

mel loves traveling solely for the sake of learning, she's totally the museum going type (cree is too but for completely different reasons) i imagine she gets genuinely a bit bummed when there isn't some kind of guided tour for her to take when traveling (she doesn't need it but she likes the experience)

they hated each other when they first met, cree was in a 'being an asshole is totally a normal and acceptable coping mechanism' phase and mel's usual trauma response is of the 'angry at the world and everyone in it' variety. they became close after being forced to become roommates and having to be in close proximity to each other's pathetic attempts at pretending to be alright

mel is american and cree is german-japanese, mel is completely emancipated + no contact while cree has a cordial but kind of strained relationship with his adoptive mother

mel's face markings are actually burns! (i just kinda suck at illustrating them lol) they extend all down her torso and part of her legs and arms

mel is very strong and frequently swings cree around just for funsies, whether cree enjoys this depends on the day

mel changes her hair very frequently, this is due to her demon-ness providing her shape-shifting abilities, this is hilariously the only thing she really uses it for

cree has a collection of those weird shirts that you see in facebook ads (and also memes) he got one from one of his siblings as a joke and everyone else just ran with it

speaking of siblings, cree has 8 and mel had 1, cree is also a twin though they're not really on speaking terms at the moment

mel cooks while cree bakes, because cree is good at the chemistry-ness of baking while mel is good at the whole add whatever your heart tells you to aspects of cooking

cree totally once mixed some unholy drink concoction (like coffee redbull and cherry pepsi or something similarly unholy) at 3 am and instead of telling him it was a bad idea mel probably asked him for a sip

mel is totally normal about her job she totally doesn't go on hours long rants about the effects of long term exposure to magical artifacts nope totally not

mel and cree used to be in a band, they played keytar and guitar respectively they were also the vocalist

[theromaboo]

Inspired by @just-late-roman-republic-things's toga alignment chart, I will look at images of things that have been called togas and rate them.

Up first, this specimen down below.

0/10 That is not a Party Toga Costume for Adults, that is a red scarf you've tucked into your belt. If this was what a toga was, Cato the Younger would NOT have gotten away with not wearing a tunica underneath.

Now this one below.

2/10 eBay is clearly very confused over if it's Greek or Roman, but it's certainly a step up over the previous one. This time, the scarf is not tucked into the belt (there isn't one) and is just hanging freely and honestly could kind of be a little like a toga if it wasn't scarf-shaped.

Now, this one below—oh hey that's me!

13-year-old me strikes again. Believe it or not, my French teacher will call my paenula a toga shortly after that picture was taken. I wonder what her idea of a toga was if a paenula with a hood sewn on counted.

1/10 it's literally a paenula.

Fun fact, before I sewed the hood on, it actually was toga-shaped, albeit too thick and too small.

For a second I was spooked out because I thought 13-year-old me had momentarily gained an extra ghostly finger in this picture. But no, the mirror was just dirty as fuck. Whoops!

For that one, 6/10 because it's the first one that actually resembles a toga! But I 100% draped it wrong and it was too small anyway. And so hot. I'm sweating just remembering how hot I felt taking that photo. It's not feasible to wear it if the temperature where you are is above 10°C.

But what if the temperature is below that?

I changed into a thin T-shirt and a short skirt, took out that exact paenula and wrapped it around my body, and stepped outside in the cold, Canadian night.

(it's actually obscenely hot out right now. Right now it's -6°C, which is around 20°F for you Amerians. That is extraordinarily hot for January. It's because of El Niño. Normally, at night, this time of the year, it's around -30°C, which is cold. That's like -22°F. And them usually there are a few days of at least -40°C, which interestingly is also -40°F. So -6°C right now is nothing. But it's cold enough to prove a point)

Once I was outside, I set a timer for five minutes on my phone.

Observations:

I probably should've put on footwear. My bare toes in the snow are not having a fun time right now.

My god, this thing stops wind like a brick wall. I feel wind on the exposed parts of my body and nothing on the covered parts.

My right arm is starting to get a little chilly. It's completely exposed.

My toesies...

Hmmm I've reached the half-way point and I don't really feel cold. Of course, the exposed parts of my body are a bit cold and my feet are quite numb, but the covered parts of my body are starting to get really toasty. Like, my left shoulder is actually starting to get quite hot.

One minute remaining and I'm fine. The night is peaceful and still, and quiet. The stars are bright tonight. Life is quite beautiful.

Oh. The time has finished!

This paenula-turned-toga is so warm that it actually is pretty appropriate to wear in -6°C. If I was wearing pants and a long sleeved shirt and most importantly shoes, I would've been quite comfortable outside. If the toga were longer, I could've covered more parts of my body, and that would've made it warmer too.

I don't know what I was trying to prove in this experiment but 10/10 would try again. Too bad I can't give this to Octavian because he wouldn't have to wear four tunics if he had this. It's a bit small as a toga but it's warm nevertheless. I forgot which fabric it was but it was the cheapest thick one.

I want to judge more "togas" later but now I'm tired and my feet need a warm bath. I hope you guys enjoyed!

[datastate]

9, 19 (even tho I know already ehe) aaaand 32 :3

9: do you have a "type"? if so, what is it?

i have felt romantic attraction three (3) times in my entire life, so i fear there isn't yet enough data for this to be conclusive... but i will say! i've never fallen for a blonde person, fiction or otherwise. which is more than my good sibling kid of streets fame can say <3

for a more serious response though, my standards are depressingly low & i feel it's a bit amusing that so few people have really been considered in my mind as actual candidates for a romantic relationship - even before i develop romantic attraction, i've sometimes tried to decide if it's worth pursuing based on a few different factors... though i'm shy to put the details of that here. romance has never been a very important part of my life, but in terms of wanting a long-lasting relationship, it is the most viable option for most who do experience romantic attraction more often than i, and i'd want to be prepared if the question does come.

& for all the jokes, aesthetic attraction plays a very little part in whether or not i'd want someone as my partner. many people pursue me based solely on appearances, and it's certainly made clear to me how shallow it feels to have that as a significant point of interest.

19: describe your fashion sense. do you "dress gayly"?

HOW RUDE...!! ...i may dress gayly, but that is BESIDES THE POINT!!

aheem. in any case. my wardrobe is primarily filled with reds, blacks, and dark purple/blue hues. i typically prefer clothing with a more formal feel to them, often long-sleeved, and i rarely go without wearing my gloves! i do have a few short-sleeved shirts which have fanciful designs on them or where the sleeve hangs nicely... i need to get a new vest, though. and i'd love to buy more skirts (or loose pants that hang like skirts)

in the past, i used to wear much simpler styles. jeans with a leather jacket, hoodie, or a flannel. i still have my first girlfriend's flannel in my closet bwehehe... it's been there for years.

but of course...! when i'm at home, i typically opt for what is the most comfortable, so i end up reusing the same few outfits if i know i'm not heading out that day :P it's usually simple formal black pants & whatever soft shirt i have around.

as many of my friends have claimed... i dress & speak as though i'm... "a victorian dandy" ... devastating.

32: tell a funny story about something really gay you've done.

haggardly lights my cigarette... 🚬

you've already heard the story of my first gf and i taking literal weeks to kiss each other on the mouth, during which we'd meet after school every day in a secluded spot between school walls, just in front of the student council room... so i shall choose another!

when i was a young dyke, see, there was this lovely girl (soon to discover. they're not a girl. but that's unrelated) i'd met during summer courses (to get academic credits early) and quickly grew fond of. we had a bit of a thing going on here, and they eventually invited me to the "anime club" (& book club + the origami club that they started up. but that's unimportant right now) since i stayed after school anyhow in the library to finish work/etc. and they wished to spend more time with me.

when i went to the anime club, it was primarily their friend group. i was extremely nervous of being the only one who didn't know them, especially as i'd transferred late to the school; but they quickly warmed up to me, and throughout the year, we all came to realize we were gay or trans in some manner.

one person's realization was. through her crush on me, which i somehow didn't realize i was the cause of when i saw her instagram & announcement she was bisexual & her sudden uptick in calling me "honey."

the time it actually registered for me that "oh! this is not just a joke about everyone in this club being gay girls!" was when we finished the final episode of death note. after discussing it, she said that she loved my words & picked me up, twirled me around, and carried me out of the classroom "bridal style" -- my friend stole some flowers from one of the planters to put in our hair when she finally set me down in the courtyard. i was so embarrassed, but it was very fun <3

anyway. dn is gay but not for the reason people think. it's because i permanently associate it with one of the most flustering moments of my entire life, during which i accidentally put my face in her tits multiple times 👍

[goodieghosty]

The Urge to make a monster au where it's? Scp foundation inspired. But also v much acts like a wildlife rehabilitation center. Which operates in secret. The outside world does not know they exist, but this foundation knows that these creatures are crucial to the environmental balance of things

Patton is-basically an incredibly exotic vet. He's the one who treats the specimens. He's on call all the time because they have some very sensitive cases. They do have others to teeat and care for them, but he's the go-to.

Virgil is Patton's roommate and ends up being the place's translator when it's accidentally discovered that he can understand them. I say accidentally because he and Pat were actually going on a little trip on Pat's one day off when Pat's work called with an emergency(one of the specimens had escaped)and Pat couldn't just, drop Virgil off in the middle of nowhere or take him back home, so he, just drove to the facility and parked a lil bit away. And Virgil is just so confused. "Why is the animal center in the middle of the woods?" "Ah haha-just, privacy! I'll be right back! Don't leave the car!"

But Virgil does end up leaving cuz he needs ti use the restroom and figures Pat won't mind if he heads inside. Aaaand this ends in him bumping into a very upset... dragon? Long story short Virgil is incredibly shocked and the dragon is v defensive but Patton finds them and-how are they communicating? "... yoooou can understand him?"

"Uh... yeeeeah? He's speaking plain english? Am-I'm sorry am I tripping?" He's convinced this was a weird dream or something.

"Just uh, can you tell him that we're just trying to fix his wing? And to head inside?"

It's a very long story and Virgil still thinks he's dreaming.

Logan is at the least thrilled to have a translator, he's their head reasearcher. He knows everything there is to know about their specimens. He practically has Virgil join them on the spot. Virgil gets no say in it either. Virgil can also see the very clear spirit hanging over Logan. But I'm gonna skirt past that lol

Janus is, of course, a naga. Remus is a seaserpent. Roman is the dragon from before. Patton is fully human. Logan is also human, he just has the spirit of the foundation's founder attached to him. Virgil actually isn't human, he ends up sprouting spider legs cuz it turns out he's part drider cuz his mom was into some freaky shiz. Anyways that's why he can understand them.

Also his mom was def part of a weird spider cult, that's def gonna have an effect later

[loosesodamarble]

Ooo for the 300 event may I request an OC interaction between Alistar and Vivian please 🥺? I can dm some Alistar fics on Discord if you need me too 🥺?

You may indeed request that, @lyranova! And not to worry, I was able to find Alistar content on my own. Did a bit of reading before sitting down to write. Hopefully I capture Alistar's personality well.

This isn't a super cute or fluffy display of Alistar and Vivian's friendship but I wanted to show him interacting with her more deadpan side. Because that's also cute in my opinion.

Summary: Alistar and Vivian have set aside a little time to hang out, during which Vivian provokes a bit of thought in Alistar. Genre: general Word count: ~800

..........

Alistar and Vivian walked up a short hill, hand-in-hand. Well, it was more like Vivian raced up the hill while dragging Alistar along behind her. She took quick, energetic strides while looking devoid of energy, not out of the ordinary for the young girl. Alistar couldn’t help but smile at the contradiction.

Upon reaching the crest, Alistar set his hand on the ground and created a shady oak. Alistar laid out his cloak to sit on in lieu of a blanket only for Vivian to kneel directly on the grass.

As usual, not much care towards her appearance, Alistar thought as he sat down. “So what would you like for today, Vivi?” he asked once she finished smoothing out her skirt.

Vivian looked up at Alistar and, with her usual blank expression, answered, “If it’s not too troubling for you, would you please grow Papaver rhoeas for me?”

 “It’s no trouble, but you almost always ask for those,” remarked Alistar with a quick chuckle. “You know I can make more than that, right?”

“Certainly. But I’m sure you’re aware that individuals have preferences for such things as flowers.”

“Ah right. Your favorite.” Alistar nodded. “Alright then.” He set his hand on the ground and, in the matter of seconds, brightly colored poppies bloomed in a circle around Vivian. “What do you think?”

The girl’s lips twitched in a smile that quickly faded. She then began plucking the flowers and gathering them in her lap. As Vivian picked her flowers, Alistar created a cluster of white clovers beside his cloak. The shape of the little, white flowers reminded Alistar of his own messy head of hair. When their laps filled with blossoms, Vivian looked at Alistar.

“Pardon if this is abrupt or too personal but…” Vivian twirled one poppy by its stem between her fingers. “Would you say your magic is stronger in the spring or summertime?”

Alistar tilted his head and muttered, “What kind of question is that?”

“Recently, my siblings discussed environmental factors related to magic,” Vivian began to explain. With her hands, she started the process of weaving the flowers together. “Such as Water Magic growing stronger with a full moon.”

“Ah, I see what you’re getting at,” said Alistar with a nod.

“So is there an observable difference?” Vivian questioned.

Alistar looked at the clover blossoms. In silence, still mulling the question in his head, he began work on a flower crown.

Was there really a difference? Did something as distant-seeming as the alignment of celestial bodies really influence the strength of magic as well? Sounded like a loose theory at best. How would attributes such as Mirror or Emotion Magic be affected, if at all? Seemed unfair if the universe worked that way.

“Alistar?” Vivian’s voice cut into the young man’s thoughts. “I apologize. Perhaps it was a strange inquiry…”

“No, it’s fine,” said Alistar with a shake of his head. “I just… never actually thought about it before.”

“Is that so? I would think you would be more mindful considering the…” Vivian paused and pursed her lips. “Reactionary nature of your powers.”

Against his will, Alistar snorted. Still critical but Vivian had tried to soften the blow against him. Ever the kind soul, just like her parents and siblings. And hopefully like him too.

“Well turns out I don’t pay as close attention as you think,” he replied and gave a shrug. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

“You have done nothing of the sort.” Though Vivian didn’t smile, her eyes held a gentle shine. “Let us change the topic then.”

“Before that…” Alistar absentmindedly connected the ends of the chain of flowers he’d been working on, completing the crown. “There!” He placed the clovers atop Vivian’s head. “A crown for the birthday girl.”

“Thank you, Alistar, you truly are a valiant knight,” Vivian stated as she smiled again. This time, the happy look stayed on her face.

Alistar smiled back. He then pointed to Vivian’s incomplete chain of poppies.

“So will I get to wear that when it’s done?”

“No. I intend to bring this and more back for my family.”

“Well now I’m disappointed.” Alistar faked a pout to which Vivian shook her head, still smiling though.

He never expected to befriend Vivian Faust but he was happy to be there for her. It was moments such as that one, where Alistar’s kindness could reach another and they returned it, where he felt like a protector and not a danger due to his magic. Perhaps he wouldn’t always be successful and perhaps it wouldn’t be forever, but he would try to be Vivian’s knight.

[bepisbee]

I'm not sure where to go with this WIP other than the start of basic world build/introductions. More random shit for the bnha/quirk au i wanted to combine a modern au idea i've had about vidow with major height difference with trans male vio who was into ballet and stupid stronk and also super tiny like 128cm ish compared to Shadow being a large boi (tm) around 188-200cm and a lil chubby and adorable gremlin man

Vio/Shadow Blue/Red/Green

Character basics and small WIP fic under the cut

---

Vio (Violet): He/Him trans man. (Has had surgery too and bottom becuase he can, also becuase magic :) ) Avian quirk (a starling) purple slit bird eyes, black talons he needs to keep filed down, very sharp teeth, taloned and scaled bird feet with a dew claw. Majoring in performance arts (ballet/theatre) which is where he met Red. Is a predator type bird, eats raw meat. He is secretly super ripped. Pretty much all my Hawks headcanons projected. if anyone other than Red or Shadow calls him Violet say goodbye to your kneecaps. He will never admit it but he is in fact sometimes distracted when shiny things hit the light just right. Constantly stealing Shadow's clothing. Around 128cm height

Shadow: He/It. Darkling/Demon quirk. Sharp black claws and fangs, minor thing for blood that he's only ever confessed to Vio about. Can use Shadow Magic. Makes pretty purple fire. Majoring in (being a dumbass) combat training. Not sure what it wants to do yet. Spars with Green for fun. Used to be a bully and sometimes falls back on that persona but it's actually a very sweet boy. Hurt him and Vio will break your kneecaps. Has heterochromia red/blue. He has a pet snake named Janus based on his favorite web series. Around 200cm height

Red: She/Her trans woman (also has had gender affirming surgery becuase she deserves it and i say so >:) ). Fairy quirk. Has slightly see through pastel red wings. She can't fly really but she can hover for a few minutes. Can do some basic healing magic and a bit of fire magic. Major empath. She is part of the stage crew, mostly in costumes and makeup. Majoring in fashion/fabrics and good friends with Styla. Around 160cm height.

Blue (Agua): He/They. A zoran/merfolk quirk. He has webbed hands and gills on his neck on land. Turns full tail merman in the water. Saltwater fish. Gets personally offended when Vio eats raw fish in front of him. Majoring in journalism despite his Hylian (writing) being pretty awful. Resolute truth seeker, no bullshit. Has OCD and they WILL refold your laundry if it's out. Most reliable and loyal in their group. Around 150cm height.

Green: They/Them. A human, but has a strength/endurance quirk. Stupidly strong. They workout with Vio a lot because he's good at the leg stuff and they're good at arm stuff. They're surprisingly light on their feet. Training to become a professional boxer. Only one that isn't going to their college but they hang around anyways and isn't reprimanded because all the teachers like them. They have an affinity for animals and sometimes help out the vet sector. Around 140cm height

--- short WIP fic thing---

Five people sat around in a dorm room. One, clad in a dark forest green sweater hanging upside down off a cheap bed, watching tiktoks on a cell. Their name was Green. Their feet were up on the lap of someone sitting up on the bed in an aqua blue blazer with the sleeves rolled up. He liked to be called Blue, although he let his friends call him "Agua" in jest. Sometimes. His webbed fingers struggled to grip a pen while he wrote in a composition book. "Fucking Homework" was scrawled on the front in shiny silver sharpie and awful Hylian. Blue looked around before sticking the pen into the ponytail section of his dark blue manbun. He was giving up for now.

A cute Hylian with rosy cheeks and pastel ruby fairy wings caught his attention easily. In an open back pink sweater and fluffy skirt she sat kneeling behind a short avian hybrid. Short blonde hair with streaks of vibrant red curled around her face. She was preening the stretched iridescent purple wings on his back while delivering the lastest tea from being the theatre's main stage crew and costume director. She called herself Red.

The avian she was caring after prefered Vio, only those very close to him were allowed to refer to him as Violet. And only in private moments. A colored visor sat atop his blonde head and his slitted purple eyes were shut in contentment.

Across in a chair, sitting backwards, was said avian's boyfriend, Shadow. Pretty purple hair and sharp black claws with vicious mockery fangs. He swayed back and forth in the wheeled seat listening to the gossip and sometimes piping in a wise ass remark. Although, mostly gazing at Vio for the duration.

A small chirp surprised the room, as she accidentally yanked a feather on her rings.

"Ah-! I'm sorry!" Red smoothed it over gently in apology.

"It's alright," his eyes were back open. "You surprised me more than anything." He adjusted the too large black hoodie he wore. It was Shadow's of course. His taloned bird feet sat cross legged underneath. He was becoming much more comfortable being himself around his strange friend group.

Shadow stood slowly stretching up to his full height, nearly 200cm, before joining Red on the floor. Vio's pretty eyes snapped over to him immediately. They were very expressive but impossible to read without experience. His gaze followed him curiously as the demon sat. Shadow made a gentle shooing motion to the fairy and took over. Red giggled behind her hand and took the chair seat.

Vio eyed him warily. He dragged his sharp nails across and through the feather with an incredible light tenderness. Flitting feathers back into place and pulling out loose ones that had shed and regrown but gotten stuck in the mass of downy fluff. The blonde relaxed into it. His shoulders quickly lost their tenseness. The room grew into comfortable silence. Only interrupted by the occasional soft bird noises of appreciation from the starling.

"Alright Fuckers, I cannot with this damn work so…" Blue passed his phone over to Green. "Order something asshats. It's my turn to buy" A food delivery app was open. It wasn't a college hangout without snacks after all.

[sharpen-jadescythe]

White Sun Baby 2, Trixany and Sharpen's Best Fight Ever

~ 20 min read

Cuda, that ghost wolf of Sharpen's, kept giving Trixany weird looks the whole time they were in Thundertotem.

Trixany could feel her face turning red, her eyes stinging on the verge of tears. Nothing she could say to Sharpen, not one thing at all, could convince the silly Night Elf himbo not to adopt this Highmountain baby as his own son. As if this living, breathing child, a Highmountain Tauren child, was like any stray cat or wolf Sharpen might find along the road!

Trixany glanced over at Cuda again, "I know what you're thinking. No offense Cuda, but this baby can't ride his whole life on Sharpen's back like he's some kind of... mother opppssum! Or be an extra puppy for you to play with. But look at him! Sharpen is over there, talking with the orphan matron like he's lost his mind. He's not even Tauren, let alone a Highmountain or even Horde!"

Cuda swished his fuzzy auburn ghost wolf tail, once. He had long observed Trixany to be strong, but also vain, shallow, and prideful. So then, this one was not intending to help raise the baby cub eventhough she was part of the pack? Her strength as a fighter was considerable, though then again, it might not be any real loss.

Suddenly, there was a hand on his furry head. Trixany was allowed to pet him if she was distraught. Any person that Cuda trusted was allowed to actually touch his ghastly form, pet him. Trixany was able to do it and so were Jiroki and a number of the Tarts in Sharpen's adopted pack. The howling, dancing pack that smelled like whiskey, candy, and made your fur covered with glitter if you were ever around them. And Cuda got to howl along at their boisterous gatherings, which was always appreciated.

"I mean, where is this kid even gonna live? Hanging on his back, like his pet sloth?? I'm sure as heck not going to play auntie to a Highmountain kid at my tiny apartment in Silvermoon, just because I'm his Horde friend."

Cuda whined and leaned in, let Trixany move her brown hand further down his back if that helped soothe her. Woman and wolf both watched Sharpen nod his head earnestly as the Highmountain orphan matron explained careful details to him. One of her three-fingered Tauren hands lay protectively on the blanket that the little baby rested under. Sharpen had named the baby Sunny, for now. It was because of the way Sharpen had found the child, lying in a white beam of sunlight. The matron kept insisting the baby surely already had a name and she was going to check their records, if any remained. Sunny was fast asleep and they were just above whispering about the baby's fate. It wasn't clear if Sharpen was making a successful case to keep the little one. When they had first arrived, Orphan Matron Ondanna Trueflare was alarmed, though she remained calm enough by her training. As soon as she got Sunny in her arms, she never gave the child back to Sharpen.

Trixany came to Dalaran, then Highmountain, happy to hang out. That was what she assumed Sharpen had summoned her for, some impromptu bar night or a crazy party. She was even dressed in heels, a glittery top and a short skirt.

Trixany kept talking to herself as the tense moment dragged on. "And I only know that stuff about mother oppossums because it's an animal fact Sharpen taught me!" Now, Trixany, always a bit silly like Cuda's master, finally gave in to tears. "We will never hang out again like we used to. Does he not understand that?! He will be busy with diapers and formula and... Being single isn't any fun if I don't have a handsome fallback guy for date night!!"

Cuda hadn't understood half of that but Trixany sounded like her life was going to come to an end. He whined again and licked her hand.

"Don't ever tell Sharpen he was always my fall back guy. He's..." She blushed, "He's just so nice. Anyway, he's probably tired of being single, too. Just like I am." She was quiet for a long time. Sharpen's conversation with Matron Ondanna abruptly ended, just as he was smiling a lot and had raised both hands as if to say 'It's really no problem, I don't mind'. But she did mind, and there was certainly a problem. Matron Ondanna arched a brow at him instead, then turned to Sunny in the basket, rearranged the blanket carefully while Sharpen walked away. Sharpen kept looking at the child over his shoulder.

Trixany murmured, "Sick of being single... and maybe that's why he's doing all this." She and Cuda watched Sharpen striding over to them, somewhat like his usual jovial self. And yet, somehow not. As soon as he was with his friends again, Sharpen frowned darkly and sank onto the simple bench beside Trixany.

"What happened, oh friendly neighborhood himbo?" Trixany crossed her arms. "Did your plan to adopt a Tauren baby who isn't even your race, let alone being in the Horde, and while you are a bumpkin with no real home yourself," Here, Trixany had to take a new breath, "...somehow manage to fail?"

"The world isn't like that anymore, Trixany. Things are changing with the Horde and Alliance."

"Yeah right. Can King Anduin go grab a... Goblin pizza with Chief Baine in Gilneas?"

Sharpen blinked slowly. "Probably, yeah."

Trixany had to blink several times herself. Actually, Sharpen was likely right. "Dang! Guess things have changed. But it's still no excuse to upend a little baby's life, just because you're lonely. Or needing a wife, or a husband? Or wishing you had your own home, or super-horny and desperate to have a children even if you can't lock down a decent partner because Sunthraze sure as fel doesn'tcut it? Maybe all five! Okay, so not so much that last one. But I swear I'm not projecting here. You're the one that's projecting and it's getting dangerous!"

"Shh! Don't talk like that in front of Matron Ondanna. I'm determined to make a good impression, no matter what she thinks. Sunny and I... we bonded on the journey. Sunny is so strong and brave, and Sunny deserves--"

"Sunny is a little baby!"

"Sunny cares about me and I will worry about Sunny for the rest of my life!"

Trixany lowered her eyes, "Have you thought of how, as a Night Elf, you would outlive your own child if you do this?"

"Or I might not! All these wars--and what are you talking about Trixany? I'm going to outlive you probably, and we're still friends."

She got annoyed, tightened the arms across her chest. "I'm an Elf too, I'll live a while. Perhaps thousands of years!"

"Night Elves live even longer."

"They do not!"

"Then prove it. How old was Dath'remar at his last birthday party? You remember the one. Hot party, right? Weren't Tyrande and Malfurion invited? I even heard Illidan crashed it with Maiev, they played around and tossed Dath's young son Anasterian in the pool."

"...Oh that was so low, Sharpen. I'm surprised at you. And everyone thinks you're this sweet himbo, the guy-from-nextdoor."

"Listen. I am, in fact, trying to do a good thing here. Matron Ondanna said that with all these wars, there aren't a lot of Tauren families, or even Horde families available to adopt. People are strapped for resources, even land that hasn't been ravaged by the Legion when that was a threat, or an evil buncha Drogbar. Or, the Cataclysm. It's sad but she also said... Well, she said the Horde parents who do want to adopt don't really want Highmountain children. At least it's not their first stop on the adoption train."

"Really? Well. I guess Blood Elves, or second to that, Nightborne would be most popular."

"Wrong. Actually, a lot of Horde parents are looking to adopt Orc children. Something about fitting in better, oh and Orgrimmar taxes or Orc clan benefits. Thrall set up a special program or something." Sharpen watched Trixany roll her eyes. "Listen to yourself. You're so vain! You're so disconnected from absolutely everything that's going on in the world."

"Oh yeah?" Trixany sniped, "Well I know for a fact that a Night Elf himbo is never gonna be able to raise a Tauren baby. Especially a Highmountain, no matter how much of a poser and in love with Highmountain he claims he is--"

Sharpen tried to object again.

Trixany spoke right over him. "Nope! Not even if you dated Navarogg and hooked up with Rexxar, which you did. You could go downstairs right now, inside Thundertotem itself and seduce Mayla Highmountain, have wild, loud sex on that giant war drum for everyone to hear and blast their ears out, and they still wouldn't let you raise that baby!"

Sharpen's eyes went wide at that image. Then, he smirked. "Wait. You dare me?"

"You’re so immature! You listen to yourself!! You're worse than me sometimes, you're not ready to be a parent!"

"Well! There is one thing about my eligibility that I can solve, and if you won't speak up for me then I know someone who will! If I ask her nicely. Or, beg her."

"Hold on, no! You can't!"

"Jiroki Glaivefall has a good heart. And lots of children who she has raised to be very healthy and happy. I do spend some time on her estate each year, she could really vouch for me if she agreed with what I was doing. And they would respect her opinion, I think they really would."

"But you two aren't married, silly. You're still a weird single guy in their eyes who's bound to put down... 'burlesque performer' on his adoption form. It's the only work you do that gives a regular paycheck."

Sharpen turned red, he flared, "Well at least I wouldn't write down 'Kael'thas simp since the Burning Crusade, then promoted to a whore for Denathrius in the Shadowlands!' Cause that's sure as fel the paid work you and your stupid, thirsty Knights of the Blood Nexus sect have been doing, for as long as I can remember!!"

Hush in the orphanage. Even Cuda wandered off, head low as if he were not with them.

"Sharpen. You'd better apologize for that."

"No. You are going to make things up to me by staying here, and being a faithful friend for once. I'm tired of being your fallback guy--"

"Oh. So you overheard that."

"I know that. I've lived it." He gave Trixany a hard look. "I want you to stay here and watch Sunny for me. Make sure nothing happens to... to my baby." Sharpen began to gather up his backpack, his hunting rifle, all of his gear.

"What? Don't they have orphan matrons for that?? There's one right over there even if she does have the personality of an ogre."

"Will you stop being a vain, selfish sin'dorei for once? Make sure no one else adopts Sunny while I'm gone! Cuda can stay and help you, he and Sunny are bonded as well."

"Not even if it's a loving, stable Highmountain family that really wants Sunny?"

"I already told you that's unlikely to happen in this day and age."

"But what if it does? Am I supposed to... fight the orphan matron? Or I guess I could celebrity-adopt Sunny myself or something--"

"You're only a B celebrity and don't you dare! I'm just going to have to move fast. I'm going to fetch Jiroki."

Trixany watched Sharpen silently while he finished gearing up and then he said goodbye to his ghost wolf Cuda.

"Jiroki will never let you do this, Sharpen. I just... I don't want you to be disappointed." Then she muttered under her breath, "I also don't want to get stuck here."

Sharpen kept petting Cuda and gazed into those golden otherworldly eyes. So sage, so warm. Man and his wolf. They both knew what was right.

"Sunny belongs with me. I am going to save Sunny from a life of being moved around constantly, feeling unwanted. Feeling the loss of a real family Sunny never had, all through Sunny's life. I don't want the only thing Sunny knows about family is that the only one Sunny had was brutally attacked by harpies, and then nobody wanted to adopt."

"Some people do love the children they foster. You don't know any of that. Sharpen, Sunny could have a good life without you!"

"But I won't know for sure, will I? Not unless I stay involved. I am going to see to it myself."

"I see. I guess... The way you're looking at it, you're the one who's not going to risk Sunny's life, with the unknown."

Trixany got up fast and hugged Sharpen before he walked out of the open door. The pristine blue sky around Thundertotem, the wilds of Highmountain stretched out beyond. She got a strange new feeling, as if he was like one of their giant eagles, about to fly bravely off.

"...be safe." It was all Trixany could come up with in the end. And it was something the Tauren were always saying to one another.

Sharpen gazed far across the orphanage, at little Sunny's basket. "An'she and Elune both, please guide me." Sharpen kept looking until he passed through the door, was fully gone.

Trixany flounced back down, began to file her nails. "This kid better be worth it. Some golden child or something." Then, one of the doe-eyed Tauren younglings with tiny moose horns wandered up to her, stared.

"What do you want?"

"Miss, what's an oar for Denathrius?"

"What the--Get lost, you little rodent!!"

Cuda really whined then, lay down and covered his head with both paws.

Sharpen please, hurry back!

@bread-elf

[ecoamerica]

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[rogersstevie]

was worried i was leaving TOO early and wouldn't spend long in the boutique and would be left hanging around before i could go over to my friend's house but i wanted to account for parking which thankfully there was a space in the free lot bc i didn't wanna park on the street

but anyway ended up spending more time than i expected at the boutique anyway just bc i had So Many things to try on and a couple things i tried multiple times just really debating it (felt bad because it was busy in there and i guess there was a bit of a wait in the dressing rooms, i rarely go shopping on saturdays and i guess since they had a special sale it was extra chaos), did find both the dresses i was looking for, but only one was in my size (insane to get that in a large and the other would've needed to be a small like yes one is fitted and one is not but STILL i hate that clothing sizes are such a guessing game even more with dresses i think) and the other isn't in that size on the site i guess i could've asked if they might have it in stock at another store but i just didn't wanna take the time when i had to go, but i have it set to notify me if it comes back online so that's something

but anyway when i went to try on she asked about jeans and i was like okay whatever (that's the thing about stores like that is they try to convince you of stuff like sometimes it's not too aggressive but ya know still) and she got me a white wide leg pair with lining and i didn't look that hard at them bc 1. they're like $80 and 2. that wasn't what i was looking to get, their deal was $35 off your purchase, not tiered or a percentage off so it's like more than two items would've been so expensive, but idk if they were meant to be cropped on a regular person (the way some midi skirts and dresses are just maxi length on me) but they hit at the bottom of my leg rather than being too long like i honestly did not hate it and i've basically only worn skinny jeans since i was 12, i did NOT like flare jeans and don't understand how people wear them unless they're really tall/wear heels like they'll just drag on the ground and you can't cuff them the way you can skinny jeans or other tapered jeans, i have one secondhand pair that i think are maybe straight leg but other tan that it's alllll skinny so it's like okay well maybe i CAN consider other things more likely at american eagle or somewhere who has extra short options so they are the right length without requiring heels but it was just so unexpected like oh these are actually kind of nice, i should've looked harder to see how much the lining really worked because if i could wear white jeans without thinking in advance about the right underwear that would be so great tbh

but i got one of the dresses i wanted (the one thing i don't like is it has tie straps and i would rather the normal adjustable straps but i have done it before) and then a pretty spring jacket that was on sale, got my coffee, spent a couple hours at my friend's house and got to catch up and meet her sweet little baby (far too late omg she's almost a year old) and go for a walk together and it was all in all a pretty lovely day

[kimvvantae]

the misadventures list; 2 (m)

➜ the night shift can be very wild at times. you’ve witnessed so many strange, concerning and absurd situations happen inside the tiny convenience store that you could make a long list with everything that got you stunned - and the situation that takes the prize of being the weirdest of your list is the night a desperate millionaire, for the sake of saving his fortune, asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend.

pairing: playboy!jimin x (f) reader

genre: smut, comedy (?), fluff • fake dating au

warnings: explicit sexual content in future chapters. sexual tension. coarse language. me trying to be funny i guess

rating: 18+

word count: 8k

A/N: i didn't even expect to update this one so soon but i'm so excited about this story!!! hope you guys like it!!! don't forget to leave some feedback, it's SUPER important :)

let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

➜  Chapters: check out masterlist in bio!

You angrily check yourself out in the mirror.

"Basic." You probably never sounded as bitter as you do now. "I'll show him who's basic."

It's true that you've been changing clothes for the past hours, trying to figure out the best comfy outfit to go shopping. Certainly not because you'll be seen with Jimin in public, but because his comment on how basic you looked indeed pissed you off.

You're almost paranoid at this point. Tried to combine every pant, every skirt, every shirt you own. Then you thought, wait, am I trying to impress that fucker?!, and you realized that you're not in your normal state of mind.

Maybe because you really quit your job two days ago.

Your chance of giving up is officially over. Now, you're jobless. You have to go until the end.

This is probably what made you even more paranoid.

Your phone rings. You feel a shiver run down your spine as you pick it up, already knowing who's on the other side of the line.

"Good morning, girlfriend!" he says in a teasing, happy tone. You snort.

"Did you suddenly forget my name?"

"I'm getting used to it. We have to be convincing." You can almost see his pout through the phone.

"Calling your girlfriend girlfriend isn't convincing at all."

Jimin hums.

"You're right. I'm calling you pretty from now on, then."

Shut up, stupid nerves. Don't feel goosebumps just because he called you pretty.

"Anyway, are you ready?" You ask.

"I'm always ready, baby. Waiting for you in front of the store."

It's hard to not roll your eyes. "Okay. I'll be there in a minute."

You hang up and shove the phone inside of your shoulder bag, staring at yourself in the mirror one last time.

High waisted denim shorts. A white buttoned shirt tucked in, sleeves rolled, three buttons opened. Unfortunately, Jimin was right about your double ends, so you tied your hair up in a high bun. A little bit of makeup. Black combat boots to match the black bag.

Simple, but not basic.

You huff, nodding at yourself before finally leaving the apartment. Of course you wouldn't give him your address, so he's waiting for you in front of the convenience store.

A cold hits your stomach as you walk down the street. God, this is actually happening. You agreed to go to freaking Hawaii. In any other circumstances you'd be happy - not even in a million years you'd be able to travel to Hawaii, to stay in a five stars resort on top of that - but you're going to impress a bunch of rich people. This is stressful because (1) fuck rich people and (2) fuck impressing others. Yet, again - you already quit your job. There's no going back.

And you have the impression that Jimin wouldn't let you off this one.

The cold in your stomach hits harder as you spot him in front of the convenience store - not that you're the only person to spot him.

The first thing people probably notice is the car he's leaning on - a shiny black BMW (fuck car names!). The second thing is almost as impressive as the car: Jimin himself.

That son of a bitch is attractive.

It's even funny, because he's not wearing anything impressive at all. He wears all black today: a simple shirt, black pants (he must have a lot of them), a thin belt, leather lace up shoes, a shoulder bag and his signature sunglasses. His hair is shiny again. To finish it off, as usual, he wears many silver rings and earrings. Sure, every piece of his "simple" outfit might cost more than your monthly salary, but it is still simple. The man makes the outfit, not the clothes themselves. Jimin is freaking elegant. Even the way he stands there exudes elegance. It's impossible to not look at him.

Again - you don’t know if you’re attracted to him or just jealous.

Jimin also spots you as you walk down the street.

Look.

You’re not usually the type to get all flustered because of men. That’s probably the reason they end up into you; you’re hard to read. They like the chase, you like to feel wanted. It’s easy to hold a poker face, make them intrigued to know what’s going inside your head, if they attract you or not.

But Jimin.

This man.

As you come closer and closer to him, he slowly takes his glasses off and a smirk grows on his lips. You know very well that all of his attention is on you; he turns his body in your direction, his eyes gleaming with approval.

This man makes your legs feel weak. This man makes it hard to act unbothered, because the heat creeping up your neck is impossible to ignore.

The same man that looked at you with puppy eyes not too many nights ago.

This fucking man.

You stand in front of him, trying to control your damn nerves. He looks up and down your body, nodding softly.

“Wow. Look at how pretty my girlfriend is.” He says in a rather quiet and deeper voice that sends actual shivers down your spine. He still has that tiny smile on his lips, yet he doesn’t sound playful at all. “I don’t even think you should change your appearance at all right now.”

You tilt your head slightly and cross your arms.

“I wouldn’t mind not doing it. You’re the one wanting me to change my appearance, which is insulting to some level.”

Jimin laughs, once again throwing his head back slightly. “I already told you why we’re doing this! My brother will recognize you if we don’t do something about your hair, at least.” He explains. “Besides, it’ll be fun, I promise! I’m always fun to be around!”

“Right.” You eye him suspiciously, making him giggle as he opens the door to the passenger’s seat. “Just don’t overdo it, okay? I’ll get a haircut and call it a day.”

“Nope.” He shakes his head, smiling sweetly. “I want to spoil my girlfriend today.”

“You’re taking this too seriously.”

“I’m never not serious, baby.”

Again - that damn eyebrow raise.

It’s impossible not to gulp as you enter the car.

You’re definitely in trouble.

Every big city has that type of mall that seems to scream poor people are not allowed.

Jimin parks in front of one of them.

He, of course, does not look bothered at all - this is his type of place. He confidently walks out of the car (you hop off before he can actually open the door for you), putting the car keys on the valet parking’s hand (rich people malls have valet parkings!) and smiling prettily.

“Take care of it for me, will you?” His voice is smooth like silk.

You see the other man blush.

Yet, you don’t have time to make any comments when Jimin grabs your hand unceremoniously, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“Let’s go!” he says excitedly, guiding you inside the mall’s gigantic front doors.

You frown. “Is this really necessary?”

“This what?”

You point to your intertwined hands, raising your eyebrows. “Aren’t we supposed to pretend in front of your family? I don’t see any family here.”

“This is training.” He explains as if it’s obvious. “Body language is important. No one will believe that we’re actually dating if we stand one meter apart from each other. We have to act like we’re intimate.”

Okay. That’s fair.

Something that most people might not know is that rich people malls are pretty empty. Differently from regular malls that are almost always packed with people, the stores (rich people call them boutiques for some stupid reason) almost never have actual customers inside of them. You see more security guards than actual customers as you walk past the main hall.

The few customers that are there, though, look at you both.

Literally all of them.

You try your best to ignore it, to keep the poker face plastered on your face, but you're definitely not used to this amount of attention. Hell, you've been working at a convenience store for the past three months. People barely ever pay attention to attendants at all. Most of them don’t say thank you or even a simple good night. Jimin, on the other hand, seems unfazed by them.

He suddenly stops and looks at his right, making you stop as well.

“Oh!” He looks at you with round eyes. “They just released their new collection. We should check it out!”

When you look at the store he’s pointing at, your stomach drops.

“No.” You say, shaking your head. “We’re not going there.”

“‘No’ is your favorite word, right?” Jimin rolls his eyes. “Come on, what’s the problem?”

“You said I was just getting a simple haircut.” Jimin doesn’t understand why you look so apprehensive. “Are you sure I have to wear fucking Chanel?”

Jimin blinks, clearly missing the point.

“Do you have anything against Chanel?” He tilts his head, confused. “Don’t you like their style?”

“No, that’s not the point.” You lower your voice, aware of the curious people around. “It’s just that I’ll feel uncomfortable if you spend a lot of money on me. Do I really need to use this type of brand?” You point at yourself. “Do you see the outfit I’m wearing? Perfectly cute, right? I spent less than $150 on everything. We don’t need to go that far.”

Jimin looks stunned for a moment.

Then, he laughs.

As usual, he laughs with his whole body. You’d usually roll your eyes at someone who’s always so boisterous, but there’s something charming and cute at the way he laughs that won’t let you think this way. Not just his laughter, honestly. Everything he does is charming and cute.

Cute is usually not the word you think of when you feel attracted to a man. Most of the time, it’s the serious and quiet type of man that would have you dropping your panties in no time. Bonus points if he’s smart and hard-working. You’ve always worked so hard in your entire life that you wouldn’t accept anything less of a possible partner. You want someone that has their shit together.

Jimin is the opposite.

Spoiled, scandalous, dramatic, never worked in his life because he never needed to. And he’s rich on top of that. Your experience in that particular school taught you how unbearable rich and attractive guys can be.

Yet, here you are, thinking that whenever he throws his head back as he laughs, his eyes almost completely closing, he looks nothing less than adorable.

He’s weird, but you’re 100% attracted to him. You have no reason to deny that.

But he’s still weird.

You better be careful not to catch actual feelings for him. You don’t need to have spent a lot of time with him to understand that he knows his charms and he uses it and he probably changes partners like he changes clothes.

Careful, careful.

“That’s what you’re worried about? Y/N, you’re cute,” he says, still giggling. “What type of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t buy my girlfriend some gifts?”

“You don’t need to be so serious about this.”

“But that’s not the only reason, Y/N. My parents - and everyone from this social circle, to be honest - take appearance very seriously. How you look is more important than your personality. You have to look impressive if you want them to think highly of you. And unfortunately, they know the difference between Shein and Chanel.”

You sigh, already feeling tired. “This is stupid.”

Jimin giggles again. “You’re funny. Most people I date are always waiting for the moment I buy things for them.”

Oh.

This is kind of sad.

You don’t know if Jimin genuinely doesn’t care or if he’s just a master in hiding his true emotions.

“Well, you’ve been dating the wrong people, my friend.”

He simply shrugs and smirks. “Do you mean I’m dating the right person now?”

“Fake dating.”

Jimin chuckles. “Anyway. Let me spoil you, pretty.”

He leads you into the store.

As soon as he walks in, a neatly dressed seller approaches you two with a pristine smile.

“Welcome back, Mr. Park!” She says. “It’s been quite a long time since you’ve been here!”

“Oh! Hello, Helena. How have you been?” Jimin smiles sweetly.

Once again - you see the blush creeping on her cheeks.

“I’m fine, thank you. Did you come to check out the new collection? I would have reserved some pieces for you if you told me you’d be coming! I guess you already know what’s the best items at the men’s wear section this season-”

“Oh, no, Helena. I didn’t come to buy anything for myself today… rather, I want you to show us everything new from women’s wear.” He says politely.

Even though you entered the store holding hands, the woman literally just noticed you.

And you see it.

The judging eyes.

How she discreetly measures you up and down - and, as Jimin said, this woman clearly knows the difference between Shein and Chanel.

You can almost hear the thoughts going on inside her head. She probably thinks you’re a prostitute. Or a gold digger. Or both.

Yet, her pristine smile doesn’t falter.

“Of course! Come on, I’ll show you everything.”

She guides you around the store. You're currently the only customers. You pass your eyes by the pieces of clothing, purses and shoes that are so ridiculously expensive that only someone that has a monthly salary of six digits and beyond could purchase.

"Those are the items presented at the Paris Fashion Week." she explains proudly.

Jimin immediately drops your hand and approaches a particular dress, touching it slightly. "Y/N, this is perfect. I bought a Louis Vuitton suit these days that will match!"

You frown, crossing your arms. "And we have to match our outfits?"

"Of course! It's cute!" He exclaims, smiling widely.

"At least let me see the suit, then. Let me see if it really matches." He pouts.

"Don't you trust me?"

"I have to agree with you. I'm not letting you put me in whatever you want."

Jimin shrugs, taking his phone out of his pocket. After a quick Google research, he shows you a picture of the suit.

"Oh, it will surely match!" you didn't even remember the seller is still standing there. "A good choice, Mr. Park!"

"See, Y/N? We should-"

"I don't think we should wear exactly the same color." You deadpan. "A cream tone would match much better with this suit. Besides, we're going to Hawaii, right? A lighter dress would be better."

"And what do you suggest?" He quirks his eyebrow up.

"A Jacquemus pastel yellow dress from the latest collection." you say as if it's obvious. "It's short and young and pretty. Much more my style. We can match our outfits with the details. Like that golden Rolex of yours."

Jimin nods. "I guess you're right."

"But I like that short blazer, by the way." You say, pointing to a white blazer with silver embroidery. "Could you get one my size, please?"

Helena's look of disdain quiets down as you inform her your size. She disappears inside the store quickly.

Jimin crosses his arms and stares at you, looking impressed.

"For someone that didn't even want to get inside the store, you seem to be enjoying this very much!" He remarks.

"I'm not." You can't hide your scowl. Your blood boils in anger. "That bitch. Did you see the way she looked down on me? As if I wouldn't know anything about fashion! I'm poor, not stupid!"

Maybe you're overreacting, but the way she looked at you triggered all of your past traumas. Rich teenage girls side-eyeing your worn out tennis shoes or mocking the fact that you didn't have the latest, most expensive iPhone in hands.

Jimin opens a comforting smile. "Ow, come on. She's just trying to do her job."

"She should do a better job." You stare at him angrily. "She thinks I'm a whore. And she's jealous because a whore is with you."

Jimin giggles. "Can you tell all that just by spending two minutes with her?"

"Yeah. I'm good at observing people."

"What can I do if people just keep falling for me?" Jimin shrugs, faking an innocent expression. "I'm irresistible."

"Sure." Jimin giggles again when you roll your eyes. "Anyways, let me have a closer look-" As you step closer to the mannequin, finally seeing the tiny price tag attached to the blazer you just ordered, your eyes widen and your stomach drops. "Oh my God. I take it back, Jimin. Let's leave this place before she comes back."

"Why?" He looks very amused at your reaction.

"Did you see how much that costs?! I'm gonna choose a cheaper one!"

This time, Jimin laughs for real and holds your hand tightly once again. "Nope, missy. We're buying that. I have a suit in mind that will match. And we're going after that Jacquemus dress you talked about."

It doesn't sound that he's willing to go back on his words.

Shit.

You watch Jimin attently from across the table, arms crossed.

The waitress comes back. You notice how she has been putting strands of hair behind her ear, the shy smile, how her eyes dart towards his lips more than once.

“Are you sure you don’t want to eat anything?” Jimin asks. You shake your head.

“No. Just mango juice.” You say once again.

“Okay. Then, one mango juice and one strawberry juice, please.” He eyes the menu with a thoughtful frown, then his expression lights up as he spots something. “Oh! Could you bring me some chips as well?”

“Of course. Would you want the medium sized or the large?” The waitress asks. Jimin hums quietly.

“Medium sized, please.”

“Alright. I’ll be right back with your order, sir.” She says. When Jimin smiles at her, you freaking see the damn blush on her cheeks.

“Thank you!”

She walks away from your table, albeit hesitantly, leaving you alone in the almost empty food court of the mall.

Jimin looks back at you, a resting smile on his face. He notices the way you’re narrowing your eyes and he frowns.

“What?”

“Can you stop flirting with random people?”

He looks confused.

Sure, he didn’t say anything weird to the waitress. But it’s the way he looked at her and his body language and fuck - everything he did was somehow inviting.

And he has been doing that to literally anyone. From the valet parking to the seller at the Chanel store and at the Givenchy store and at the Dior store and at the Alexander Wang store and to the waitress.

He made women and men blush back to back.

It’s starting to get on your nerves.

“I’m not flirting.” He says, his eyebrows shot up in an innocent look.

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m not! I swear!” Slowly, his expression becomes playful. “What? Are you jealous, pretty?”

“I’m not jealous. It’s just that we’re walking around holding hands, acting like a couple, yet you keep flirting with anything that breathes. It’s making me look stupid.”

Jimin giggles, putting his hand over his chest. “I’m sorry, pretty. Seriously, I’m not flirting with anyone.” He licks his lips. Jesus, he has to stop doing that. It’s so distracting. “Believe me, if I was flirting with them, it’d be all over.”

He wiggles his eyebrows playfully. You just stare at him, eyes still narrowed.

“Anyways.” You rest your back on the chair. “Do you really think your brother won’t recognize me?” You touch the strands of your newly cut hair with your fingertips (no more split ends!), feeling a little bit worried. “I don’t think I look that different at all.”

“I’m sure he won’t. He saw you in that ugly uniform and ponytail. With your new haircut and clothes, he won’t even realize you’re the same person.”

“Wow. Thanks for passive-aggressively calling me ugly in my natural state.” You whine.

“I didn’t say that. I thought you were pretty from the moment I laid eyes on you.” Jimin says defensively. How can he say this type of thing so absently?! “As I said, you just looked basic. Now, you look anything but basic.”

As much as you hated the word “basic”, you kind of have to agree.

You drop your eyes to the bags laying around your legs. Jimin and you planned every single outfit you’ll be wearing each day of your stay in Hawaii - the arrival, the reception dinner, the golf and evening tea (evening tea in freaking Hawaii? What’s wrong with these people?!), the private concert at night, then the actual anniversary ceremony on the third day. Jimin also lowkey forced you to buy a few more things to wear in between the events (like that lace nightgown he shamelessly put on your hands, giving you a suggestive look, but he gave up when you almost shoved the nightgown down his throat).

You can’t even measure how much money is resting around your legs right now. It makes you feel awkward. Jimin repeated more than once that the money he spent on you wasn’t even “that much”, but you can’t forget that the Chanel blazer you chose cost nothing less than (gasp) $8,000, and that other Givenchy dress cost $2,000, and that Alexander Wang sandal cost $600-

Your brain is like a calculator.

You could buy a nice car with all this money combined. Hell, you could even move to a better apartment. Furniture and all.

Jimin seemed very unamused as he took his black card out of his wallet to pay for everything. He wasn’t even checking price tags. How stupidly surreal is it that someone can spend so much money on clothing? Hell, you’ve been struggling to buy food for the past few months. Most people would beam over the fact that they’d be wearing luxury brands; you, however (although you’ve been interested in fashion for quite a few years, keeping up with new trends, fashion weeks and collections), have a bitter taste on your tongue. This doesn’t feel right at all, it doesn’t matter how rich he is.

But you agreed to participate in this craziness and Jimin’s money already left his bank account, so you swallow your morals and focus on your mission.

The waitress comes back with your orders (wow, this lady’s fast. Maybe she worked faster motivated by the fact that she’d see Jimin’s pretty smile again). The moment she turns around, you lean in closer to Jimin.

“Okay. Let’s trace our strategy.” You say. “How do you think we can impress your parents? How are their personalities?”

Jimin puts the straw between his lips and sips his strawberry juice. Goddamn distracting lips. “Well, let me see… my father is the typical soulless businessman.” Jimin starts. “Not to put you under pressure, but he’ll hate you the moment he meets you.”

“I don’t feel pressured at all after hearing this,” you say sarcastically.

“He’ll research your entire life in a minute and when he finds out you’re not some millionaire heiress, he’s gonna hate your guts.” Jimin continues after sipping a little bit more. “The way to get to him is by showing that you’re actually smart and hard-working. You see, my father cares about appearances, but he also values hard-work since he himself works so hard that he barely has a life outside of the company.”

“And finding out that I’m a ‘good girl’ will magically make him give up forcing you into marrying some rich heiress who could bring a potential commercial accord to his company?” It sounds impossible.

“For now, yes.” Jimin says. “He won’t leave me alone, I know. But my father is not the type to make accords. He would never tie Aurum to any other company through marriage or whatever other methods. He wants to destroy his competitors. My father wants me to marry a rich girl from a ‘traditional household’”, he rolls his eyes as he says that, “because it’ll make the Park family look good on the news. I wouldn’t even have proposed this plan if I knew he wanted me to marry someone for business motives at all.”

You nod slowly. It makes sense. Ever since you agreed with this thing, you’ve been researching everything about the Aurum Steel Company, and it’s true that their business strategy is aggressive - even ruthless. Whenever a mining company seemed to be becoming successful, Aurum bought them for such high prices that they just couldn’t refuse. Slowly, the company was becoming one of the best - and only - in the whole world.

“Alright. What about your mother?”

“She’ll also hate you.” Jimin states. “But she’ll like your fierce personality.”

You knit your eyebrows awkwardly. “I’m not fierce.”

“You are.” He remarks, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. “I’ve been hearing my whole life how she hates weak and submissive women. You just have to show that you’re not like that and she’ll be fine with you.”

“Okay.” You nod once again, playing with the straw inside of the tall cup of juice. “One more question. We have no photos together on our social media. Won’t it be suspicious?”

“No. I never post photos with anyone on my SNS.” Jimin says.

Indeed. You’ve also been researching Jimin (just to be sure that he’s not a psycho). It wasn’t hard to find his Instagram account - and your jaw nearly dropped when you saw the absurd number of 500k followers. His feed was carefully planned out: only pictures of him showcasing his luxurious life. It looked very professional and not so personal. Very different from your humble account with less than one thousand followers; just like any other normal person, you like to post pictures of yourself and also important things happening in your life.

“Why is that?” You’re genuinely curious.

“I would lose half of my followers if I ever revealed that I’m dating someone.” Jimin explains nonchalantly, chewing some of his chips. “It’s the idea of a hot and single rich guy that makes them fantasize about having a chance and follow me.”

You stare at him, wide eyed, for many seconds. Jimin lifts his eyes to look at you after a while. “What?”

“How can you say that with a straight face?”

“But it’s true!” He shrugs.

“Some people would try to pretend to be a little modest.”

“I have no time for false modesty, honey.” He eats more chips. “Any more questions?”

“Won’t your family think it’s too suspicious of you to conveniently show up with a girlfriend?”

“No. I never introduced any girlfriend to them. They’ll think it’s a huge thing.”

You freeze once again.

“Really?”

“Really. Why does everything I say surprises you?”

“Because… I don’t know.” You sip a little bit of your mango juice, avoiding his gaze. “This was unexpected.”

Jimin giggles. “Why would I introduce every person I date to my parents?”

He just confirmed that he indeed fucks around alot. You shrug, nodding. “That’s fair.”

“Besides, as I already said, I meet my parents, like, once a year, usually at their wedding anniversary. This means they know very little about my love life anyway.”

“They take this wedding anniversary thing very seriously, huh?”

“Yeah.” Jimin rolls his eyes. “Every damn year. They invite a bunch of people they hate just to show off their wealth and how they have the perfect and successful family.”

You sip more juice. “So you avoid seeing them.”

Jimin nods. “I know what you’re thinking. What an ungrateful son.”

“No.” You shake your head. “I can’t judge you. I don’t see my parents that often, either.”

Jimin goes silent.

He leans on the table, a very apparent interest in his eyes as he analyzes you.

“What?” It’s your turn to ask.

“It’s just that you know pretty much everything about my life, but I barely know anything about you.”

You snort, once again playing with the straw. “You decided to spill your whole life on me because you wanted to.”

“Aw, come on. We have to know each other at least a little if we want to be convincing.”

You never thought that an adult man's pout would be able to make you give in so easily. You sigh. “Alright. What do you want to know?”

Jimin rests his cheek on his palm. “What you just said about your parents…”

“Nope.” You’re quick to cut him off. “I won’t talk about that.”

Pout intensifies. “But you know everything about my family drama! Why can’t I know about yours?!”

“Again - you told me because you wanted to tell me. I’m not as eager to expose my traumas like that.”

Jimin huffs dramatically. God, he’s such a kid. “Okay. Then, next question.” You notice the way he eyes you hesitantly. “Look, I don’t wanna sound offensive at all…”

“I don’t even know what you’re gonna ask, but I’m already offended.”

He giggles. This man giggles a lot. Is it weird that you don’t get tired of hearing his giggles, though? “Please, I’m just curious. It’s just that… well… how you knew about that Jacquemus dress…”

“You’re surprised that a poor person like me would know a high fashion brand, isn’t it?”

Jimin gulps, eyes widened. “No!”

You glare at him quietly.

“...Yes.” He admits, shoulders dropping. “I don’t want to offend you! I remember what you said about the seller at the Chanel store! It’s just that… I don’t know, you didn’t seem all that amused about everything. I mean, I saw your jaw dropping at price tags all the time, but I almost feel that you’re… used to it?”

He’s clearly stepping on eggs as he stumbles to find the right words. Once again, the only reason that won’t make you want to punch his face is that Jimin looks genuinely curious. You can’t see or sense any hint of scorn in his expression or voice.

“It’s not that I’m used to it myself. I’m used to seeing people wear those brands.” You tap your nails over the table, starting to feel slightly uncomfortable. You don’t really like to talk about your past - especially to someone that you met just a few days ago. “I studied at a private school, you know. As a scholarship holder. It was full of rich kids. So… yeah, for a good while it was normal to see people walking around wearing Gucci and stuff.”

His interest seems to grow further. “Which school did you study at?” As Jimin hears the school’s name leave your lips, his eyebrows shoot up in a surprised expression. “Really? I have some friends that studied there!”

“I figured.” You nod, taping your nails over the table more nervously.

He watches you in silence for a few seconds.

“It wasn’t a good experience?” He asks quietly.

Damn right. “Thanks to studying there, I absolutely hate the rich.”

“Do you hate me?” He blinks prettily. You tilt your head, quirking one eyebrow up.

“You still didn’t do anything for me to absolutely hate you, so no. Yet. Actually, I kinda hate you for thinking I wouldn’t know what Jacquemus is. Poor people can be interested in high fashion too, did you know that?”

“Aw, come on, that’s not what I meant!” He smiles, yet his eyes look apologetic. His smile gets smaller and he takes somewhat of a more serious expression. “Thank you for doing this, Y/N.”

“What? Are you getting emotional all of sudden?” You lean back. Jimin chuckles.

“No. It’s just that… after you told me this, I guess going on this trip to be surrounded by people like me must be awful to you. So… thank you for accepting to do it anyway.”

You weren’t expecting that.

Jimin spent thousands on you. Anyone else in his place wouldn’t be taking your feelings into consideration. I’m paying anyway, it’s what they would think. But Jimin immediately understood that your experiences were indeed awful and that, yes, your hate for rich people isn’t unreasonable.

This makes you soften.

You shrug. “Well, as long as you put me in the company as you promised, I’m okay with everything.” After sipping a little bit more of the juice, you quietly add: “And you’re not like them at all.”

His smile widens.

Your heart shouldn’t be beating as fast as it is right now, should it?

When you realize that you’ve been staring at each other in silence for an embarrassing long time, you clean your throat and finally avoid his gaze, staring at the ice cubes inside of the cup. “Okay, any more questions?”

“Oh! Let me think…” He frowns, then his face lights up in a playful expression. “Why are you single?”

You narrow your eyes. “That’s a strange question.”

“It’s a perfectly normal question.”

“No, it’s not. You’re saying why are you single as if it’s my choice to be single.”

“But it is your choice, right?” the fucking smirk again. “I’m also good at reading people, Y/N, and I can tell that you’d be dating someone if you wanted to.”

You stare at each other in silence.

Quietly, you consider if telling him the truth is worth it.

No. It’s definitely not worth it.

But you sigh and rest your face on your palm, mirroring his position. You know what? Jimin’s right, he deserves to know at least a little bit of your disgrace.

“I broke up with my boyfriend two months ago.” You admit. “No… He broke up with me. Said some bullshit about wanting his space. Then, he showed up dating a friend of mine literally one week later.”

It’s Jimin’s turn to look totally shocked.

“Are you serious?!” He exclaims, outraged. You tiredly nod.

“Yep. This friend of mine, by the way, always said that our relationship was toxic and encouraged me to break up with him.” You sip more juice. It kinda tastes bitter after you started talking about this. “I mean… I liked him, but being with him wasn’t all that healthy at all. We argued a lot. He wanted me to pay all of my attention to him all the time, complained about how much I studied and worked… shit, he even complained about the size of my skirts.”

“He’s fucking stupid.” Jimin remarks, frowning.

“Yes. Anyway. I think breaking up with him wasn’t that bad after all. But… it still kinda hurt that he ran to her that fast. Like, they didn’t even try to pretend for a while, you know.”

Jimin looks genuinely shocked.

"I don't even know this guy, but I already hate him." He crosses his arms and shakes his head slowly. "Why the hell would he complain about the size of your skirt?! You look great in short skirts!"

"I know, right?!" You agree, outraged.

"I'm glad we bought short dresses. Let's take a lot of pictures and post it on Instagram so he can see it and regret it."

"Didn't you say you never post pictures with anyone on your social media?" You quirk your eyebrow.

Jimin tilts his head and smiles.

"Maybe I found someone that's worth posting."

You roll your eyes as he giggles.

It's impossible to get mad at this man.

Jimin stares at you, concerned. "Are you sure this is your apartment?"

You huff. "Of course. Why?"

"Because it looks like you're trying to break into it."

You giggle, once again pushing the door with your shoulder. "This door has a little problem. It doesn't open if you're gentle. You gotta force it-"

Finally, it opens up with a loud bam as you push it with your shoulder one last time. You exhale, relieved, and open your arms dramatically as Jimin steps in.

"Welcome to my amazing penthouse!"

Jimin takes around half a second to have a full view of the entire place.

It is, indeed, at the top of the four story building. Does it mean you have a wonderful view of the city or that you have more space than the other apartments? Of course not. It's the cheapest one because the heater and the air conditioning system are fucked up - which means when it's cold outside it's cold inside and when it's hot outside it's also hot inside.

It consists of a single room plus a tiny bathroom. Believe it or not, there is an actual kitchen (egg-sized, but it's still a kitchen anyway), a short counter is the only thing that separates the bedroom from it. Your bed occupies almost the entirety of it. The built-in closet helps save some space; your clothes are so perfectly folded that miraculously everything fits in, not even a single centimeter of space unused. It’s also the same with the writing desk in front of the window and the shelves all around. Every space in the room is filled with your belongings, so much that it’s hard for two people to navigate in it. It’s not even that you have too many things, the place is just too small.

“Where can I put these?” Jimin asks, still holding some bags in his hands.

“Over the bed.” You say, carrying bags in your hands as well. “As you can see, this is where the master bedroom is… and the living room… and the dining room… oh! And the games room as well, since here’s where I play my Nintendo Switch.”

Jimin laughs. You watch him intently as he walks in, placing the bags carefully over your neatly made bed. He puts his hands inside the pockets of his pants and looks around once more.

“You’re very organized.” He comments. You tilt your head.

“I can't even walk around if this place isn’t organized.” He chuckles.

“I like it. It feels very cozy.”

You were expecting sarcasm in his tone or expression - like when you hear a compliment that very obviously isn’t a compliment. Being the absurdly rich person he is, you expected him to frown, be uncomfortable or even disgusted at your humble apartment - and God, were you ready to throw hands if he showed any sign of disgust.

That’s not what you see, though.

Jimin looks genuinely amused, no disdain or sarcasm at all. His eyes gleam with the curiosity you’re growing used to; he stretches his neck to see a bookshelf closely, or rapidly eyes a couple of photos you have glued on a grid on the wall.

You huff as you close the door once again. “I’m glad you liked the sardine can that I call home.”

“I’m serious! I like to visit people’s houses. They say a lot about someone.”

“Well, I’m sure it says that I don’t have enough money to fix the infiltration problem at the moment.” The black marks on the kitchen’s wall don’t let you lie. “Oh, that’s Tobey, by the way.”

Jimin frowns, confused, then finally spots what you’re pointing at.

“Oh! You really have a goldfish!” He walks over to where the small aquarium is at the writing desk and waves cutely. “Hello, Tobey. Nice to meet you!”

Shut up, heart. Don’t miss a beat just because he fucking greeted your fish.

“Do you want to drink or eat anything?” You say, walking over to the kitchen and taking a bottle of water. Jimin shakes his head politely.

“No. Wait… is that Pringles?” He narrows his eyes. Indeed, there’s a can sitting over the cabinet along with your stock of noodles.

“Yes.”

He stares at you and smiles.

You know when a toddler wants to eat something so they send you that suggestive look?

Yeah.

“Geez, you can have it. No need to look at me that way.” You hand him the Pringles can from over the counter. Jimin takes it and - believe it - bounces a little. “You really like chips, huh?”

“Mm-hmm!” He says, his mouth already full of it.

You sigh, throwing yourself over the bed. It’s already dark outside. You're relieved that you finally got rid of your shoes, feeling your legs and feet heavy. “God, I’m broken. We walked a marathon.” You notice Jimin standing awkwardly and quickly gesticulate with your hand. “You can sit on the bed, Jimin. As you can see, I don’t have a couch.”

He promptly sits by your side, albeit still hesitantly. You absently check your purse, searching for your phone, but your fingers brush over something else.

You take the passport out of it and narrow your eyes at Jimin.

"You're sure this isn't a falsified passport, right?"

"I already said it's not. You're too suspicious of me. I'm starting to get sad," He pouts dramatically.

"Of course I'm suspicious. Never heard of a passport being done so quickly in my whole life!"

"You're just lucky that your boyfriend is a man that knows a lot of important people that can get things done quickly." He side eyes you with a newly playfulness. "We've been dating for six months, Y/N. You should know this about me already."

Oh. You almost forgot that you've been dating for "this long" if anyone asks you. You huff and take some chips from the can on his hand.

"Sure. And you should know that your girlfriend is paranoid."

Jimin giggles. He finally rests his back against the pillows, propping his body on one elbow. It's weird how you met just a couple of days ago, yet you don't feel uncomfortable or bothered by his presence.

"I know that. I also know that my girlfriend is a clean freak."

“I’m not a clean freak. I’m organized.”

“Sure.” He snorts. “And I know that she has a goldfish called Tobey. Why Tobey, by the way?”

“As in Tobey Maguire.”

Jimin narrows his eyes, trying to muffle the incoming giggles. “The Spider Man?” You nod. “Why?”

“I’m shit at naming things, so I named him after the first thing I saw on TV. Spider Man 2, in this case.”

He shakes his head, eyeing the little fish inside of the aquarium. “Cute. But I feel that he’s staring at me.”

“Yeah, he has this bad habit. It’s his way of intimidating people. You also do that to people, did you know that?”

Jimin tilts his head. “Yeah, my friends already told me this, but most of the time it’s not intentional.”

“Most of the time?”

“Hm-mmh.” He nods. “You would know if it was intentional.”

“Yeah?”

He nods once again and looks at you.

Really looks at you.

Your stomach twirls and you feel yourself gulping.

"Okay, stop." You say, finally breaking eye contact after what seemed to be an eternity. "I got it."

Jimin laughs. "You're cute."

"I'm not cute." You say as you aggressively shove more chips in your mouth. "You are cute."

"I know I'm cute!" Jimin sounds very proud of himself. "Why do you say that as if it's an offense?"

"It's not offensive, but I have a bad bitch reputation and I like it very much, okay? It doesn't include being cute."

"And that's why you're cute."

You narrow your eyes at him again, clearly not getting the point.

God.

You hate the way he's putting that chip inside his mouth. You hate the way his lips are so glossy. You hate the way this motherfucker looks at you. It makes that heat creep the back of your neck once again.

His lips are so pretty.

Fuck.

You want to kiss him.

"You're all serious and sarcastic and hard to read, but you still avoid my gaze all the time." Why is he talking so low now? Why does his voice sound deeper?

You shrug. "Maybe it's because I think you're ugly. Who knows?"

"You don't think I'm ugly." He affirms so strongly that it almost makes you angry at how goddamn cocky he can be. Almost because he's not wrong.

That tiny smirk, the playfulness in his eyes-

Lord, give me strength, for I don't know if I'm strong enough to resist this fucker.

Seriously, how can he look cute and naive in a moment, then literally one second later look like he's a lion ready to jump on you and eat you?

I kinda want to be eaten-

Shut up, brain. Shut. Up.

“You’re too full of yourself, sir.” You break eye contact once again. This doesn’t make the heat leave your body - especially because he chuckles in a low tone, passing his hand through his hair. You also noticed that he has this habit that certainly doesn't make you think he looks hotter every time he does this.

“I already said that I have no time for fake modesty.” He eats more chips.

Silence hovers over you both. It’s hard to think of anything snarky or funny to say because the mood has shifted - it’s not carefree or lighthearted anymore. It’s charged. You didn’t think Jimin would be able to do this so easily. And, for the first time, you realize that you’re sitting side by side on your bed. Your fucking bed. And you think that his lips are so damn inviting, and that you can see his collarbone peeking from under the shirt, and that you’re really really close to each other and you wouldn’t really need to move a lot to press your lips against his.

It also doesn’t help that you don’t have sex with anyone in two months, ever since you broke up.

There is a stupidly attractive man sitting on your bed.

For a moment, you consider this.

It would be just sex, right? What’s the problem with casual sex? It’s not like you never hooked up with anyone in your life. If he’s up to it, then what’s the problem?

The problem is that he’s a weirdo. Hot, but still a weirdo. And he’ll forget about your existence the moment you come back from Hawaii. And he just spent thousands on you, if you actually have sex with him, it will feel like prostitution. Right?

Right. Yeah, right.

Besides, you don’t even know if he’s really up to it, right? Maybe he’s just messing with you. Maybe he just likes to elicit people’s reactions to caress his ego. You can’t say you don’t do it with men, either.

“I hope this works out in the end.” You say quietly, looking at the bags laying just beside your feet. “I would hate to see all this money go to waste.”

“It will, pretty. Don’t worry. I trust you.”

“Oh. Thank you for putting more pressure over me.” Jimin chuckles and bumps his shoulder against yours softly.

“I’ll be by your side all the time, okay? So just… follow what I do.”

“I don’t think you’re that reliable of a guide.” His quiet giggle, once again, fills your ears. At this point, if you ever see Jimin not giggling, you’ll be sure that there’s something very wrong with him.

“Why do you keep hurting my feelings like this? I’m always so nice to you!” He pouts.

“It’s not my fault that you look like a confused puppy dog 90% of the time.” You can’t help but smile when he throws his head back as he laughs. When he looks at you again, his eyebrows are wiggling playfully.

“Alright Y/N, I got it that you think I’m cute. No need to keep saying that all the time.”

“I don’t mean it as a compliment!”

“You don’t? Really?” He crosses his arms.

“I don’t. Definitely not. I don’t think cute people are reliable. Even less reliable if they have cute hands.”

Jimin leans away and puts his hands over his chest, his face contorting in a dramatic offended expression.

“Cute hands?! You’re saying my hands are cute?!”

You can’t help but fully laugh this time, nodding vehemently. “Yes, you have cute little hands. Just accept it!”

He still stares at you as if you just damned his entire family and his past generations while you laugh. Yes, his hands are cute. His fingers are short and chubby and you noticed it ever since the moment he sat by the cashier counter.

Then, you see the exact moment his gaze shifts from just playfulness to something many shades darker.

He nonchalantly takes more chips from the can and eats them. After he finishes chewing, he does something that will make your heartbeat rate go 200bpm and beyond.

He licks his fingers.

You saw him do that before. Many times, actually. It was always distracting. But then, it was just an innocent act.

Now, it isn’t.

No one licks their lips that slowly. He didn’t need to stare at you with heavy lidded eyes the way he is now. He didn’t need to make his lips appear even more glossy and attractive and plump like this.

That heat isn’t creeping just the back of your neck now. It’s creeping somewhere lower.

“Do you want to know what I can do with my cute little hands, Y/N?” He asks quietly.

Oh fuck.

He is up to it.

All the sirens inside of your head pop off all at once. Sweet Jesus, he is up to it. He is! He is up to it, he is sitting on your bed, he is gazing at you with half lidded eyes and with those beautiful plump lips and - fuck - his fingers are wet and they’re not the only thing getting wet right here-

You’re going to regret this.

You jump off the bed and get up.

“It’s kinda late, right? I think you should- I think you should go.” Your voice is weirdly high pitched. Must be because your throat feels tight.

Jimin stares at you in silence.

“Really?”

“Really.”

He doesn’t move for a few seconds.

Then, he sighs, disappointed.

“Well, that’s sad. I thought we could train our intimacy.”

You chuckle, rolling your eyes, as you walk to the door. Slowly - hesitantly - Jimin gets up, picking his bag from over the bed.

He’s still staring at you as he walks to the door, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

You open the door and step aside.

“Drive carefully,” you say when he stops in front of you.

He doesn’t move.

“Are you sure?” He’s pouting again.

“Yes, Jimin.”

“Really really sure?”

“Bye, Jimin.” You widen the door.

Jimin sighs again, his shoulders dropping. Then, he shrugs.

“Bye, pretty.”

He puts his hand on your waist and pulls you closer, making more heat spread from the spot he touched, and leaves a kiss on your cheek. His lips are so damn soft…

“See you tomorrow.”

After nodding and smirking one last time, he finally leaves.

You have to lean on the door after you close it, as if your legs suddenly can’t carry the weight of your body.

You stand there in silence for some moments.

“What the hell was that?!” You breathe out.

This definitely didn’t go in the direction you thought it would. Sure, you felt attracted to Jimin the moment you laid eyes on him, but Gosh - you were one step away from giving in.

Thanks for giving me strength, Lord. That was really cool of you.

“Stop staring at me like that!” You say, aggressively pointing at Tobey. The little fish just glares at you in silence. “You can’t judge me for thinking he’s hot!”

Tobey swims around as if saying sure, bitch.

Although whiny millionaire man mentioned previously is strange, you kind of want to fuck him.

This list is escalating quicker than you expected.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Kurt Kelly x Fem!Bitch!Reader || Oneshot

Title: Someone Gets Hurt

Plot: Some little wannabe steals away your boyfriend, Kurt, while also batting her big ass lashes and winning over your friends, too... until you've had enough. No one out bitches you.

Notes:

Obviously, this is inspired by Someone Gets Hurt from Mean Girls except with Regina (The reader) as the heroine.

Warnings: Overall bitchiness, possessiveness (You about Kurt), break ups (Make ups too though so its not too bad ^^), the ruining of another persons relationship (Random girl Lizzie and Kurt's), rapeiness (Ram), sexual references, underage drinking, overage drinking, just LOTS of debauchery over all, a smut bit near the end (Not full), etc.

Was I too proud with you? Was I too cold and forbidding? And you chose her over me Are you kidding?

Watching Kurt and Lizzie together this week has been torture. Terrible, burning, squeezing, not-at-all sexy torture.

Because Kurt, is yours.

He has always been yours. He was yours in kindergarten, he was yours in middle school, and he was yours all through highschool until this, unfortunate and butt fucking ugly, snag. Crossing your arms now and poisoning them with your eyes, you sit in the cafeteria... and think.

Just, think.

You don't gossip with your minions about all the bullshit going on in school, you don't discuss what you're going to do to the freshmen this year, no. Nothing. You're too busy... plotting.

There is no way in hell, that this pee-brained virgin bitch is going to steal your boyfriend, and not get paid back in turn. Its only fair- and you include interest, in your transactions like this.

One eye actually twitches, when Lizzie... the pee brained virgin bitch in question, gives Kurt a peck on the nose - oh so cute, but you don't even have to look at Kurt to see the disappointment flash in his eyes, - and hops off his lap when the bell rings. He has a free period now, you know because so do you and you usually spend it at the back of the football field together, but she has Chemistry, a thing you also know because hell- you just know everything. That's a basic fact. The whole school knows it and love that you never have to explain how you just fucking know shit.

But even being all knowing does not make you feel better, knowing that itty bitty roach-cunt has her claws embedded in your poor, weak-willed... ex boyfriends,... heart. Or his penis, more likely. Metaphorically speaking, obviously, because Lizzie's the 'Mary'est whore in the land of Westerberg High.

That doesn't really matter though. Either way, he's with her now and not you, and that just wont do.

Maggie, your right hand babe, gets up from your lunch table and leaves for her next class, too. And its only until she's out of sight, that you notice the piece of paper she left behind. Rolling your eyes, a growl of annoyance escapes you and you sigh- turning away from Kurt and Ram's table to see what the fuck it is. The reprieve is almost palpable, not looking at him anymore. It feels a little better- but not by much. And certainly not enough for you to forget what fuckery is going on.

Picking up the piece of paper in one perfectly manicured hand, you see that its an invitation. "Hmm... " Worrying the inside of your cheek, you think; This is interesting.

A Halloween party...

A gleeful smirk quirks slightly at the corners of your lips.

Kurt always did have a thing for Halloween.

~

And what you meant by 'Kurt always did have a thing for Halloween'- is 'Kurt always did have a boner for your Halloween costumes'. For the past several years, since the two of you blossomed with the help of puberty, you have used your assets as an advantage - because why else have them? - ; With the help of lace tights, push up bra's, winged eyeliner and red lipstick.

This year you've pulled together your favourite costume yet, which is fitting for the task at hand and the fact that its senior year- this may be your last chance to put these bottom dwelling highschool chuckleheads in their place.

I mean, you hope not but its basically a given.

Looking around the party as you walk in, you figure its just the same as any party Ram has thrown before. And his house is perfect for it, you'll give him that. The lights a turned down low enough that everyone looks a little hot, cooler's full of ice and alcohol are set up so you're never too far from a fix and thanks to his houses sound system the music is loud enough to make you think for a couple hours that you're in a place between reality and your dreams; A perfect set up for mistakes and one wild night.

But you aren't here to get drunk and kiss a loser, except for Kurt; You're here to take back the goddamn crown. Which getting Kurt back, will do. It'll humiliate Lizzie, and that's really all you want out of life right now.

Prowling through the crowd - which still knows to part for you, despite your current, slightly lower social standing, - in your knee high, shiny black leather boots, you look for someone to talk to. You know Maggie's here somewhere but that bitch is on her last life with you, after she said Lizzie's hair looked nice the other day. And you think some silent treatment will set her straight.

"Oh- Hi Ram." You find the host in the backyard, about to push an unsuspecting demoness into in a very sheer red blouse into the pool - which would doubtlessly make the blouse more of a red tint to her skin rather then any kind of coverage, which Ram well knows, - , and he double takes when he sees you. A sleazy, mischievous grin slops over his face at the sight, which makes you roll your eyes.

Deeply.

"Ohhh, heyyyy, Y/N!" He has to yell over the sound of the music and the other party-goers, not that you would mind if you didn't hear anything he said. He hasn't got a whole lot of substance, Ram, so you can basically assume that rolling your eyes is always the answer to anything he's saying. His eyes shift back, anxiously, to the girl he's currently got a hit out on, but you just raise your eyebrows sharply at him and he's at attention. "I didn't know you were gonna come! You know, with the state of things... "

Oh, he's so obnoxious. And dumb! So, so dumb. He doesn't know the half of your shit. Yet he still runs his mouth... Rolling your eyes once again, you flip some hair behind your head. "Oh don't worry your pretty little head about that, Ram." Eyes flickering around the party some more, searching for your own target, you rest your hands on your hips that are tightly bound, in various layers of violet georgette cloth. The witches hat on your head is pinned down, so theirs no chance of it flying off. You have a train of thinner fabric hanging down the back of your short-short skirt, and your tight tube top reveals exactly the shapes you require it to. "I'll be perfectly fine- oh, have you seen Kurt anywhere?"

"Uhhhhhhhhhhh I think I saw him and Liz against a wall earlier- but by the looks of Liz, I doubt they're in a situation like that anymore." He chuckles, dumbly. The stupid boy has a slur in his voice that you hadn't noticed before but probably should've known would be there. But you're sure focusing in on him now, jealousy burning in your eyes at his description. What does that mean??

"What?"

A geek walks by, toting a bottle in his hands that Ram snatches for himself. As the kid continues by, faster now due to the angry look in Ram's eyes and the animalistic growl that slips from the footballers lips, you continue to glare bullets at Ram. He takes a messy swig of his beer before continuing. "Just sayin', Y/N. Your friend's a prude. Won' even let Kurt get to second base with 'er or anything. So I'd say Kurt's, probably, uhhh... by the pool table, now." He shrugs big round shoulders then, as relief and mirth wash over you. So he didn't mean they'd have moved their dirty little adventure to somewhere they could really get down, or anything. He means quite the opposite.

A smirk graces your red painted lips.

"Well- enjoy your party." You shrug, not really caring as his eyes shine... turning back to the demon girl who's just laughing with her friends; He sure will. Eyes narrowing, you mutter a bitter "Dick." under your breath, as a final bid to Ram.

Turning on your heel, you head back into the house. You've been here plenty of times with Kurt and know exactly where the pool table is (And how uncomfortable it is to be bent over) and sure enough- there he is.

Your boyfriend.

Or, soon-to-be, once-again boyfriend.

He's standing back with a stick, waiting for his turn as he laughs with some over football boneheads. Lizzie isn't here, but you suppose she could have gone to get a drink or talk to one her - your, - friends, but where she is actually doesn't concern your in this moment. All you can do right now, is stand and stare.

God, he's hot.

You miss him; You really do. And, admittedly- not just because he can fuck you like no one else.

But your moment passes, and you gather your wits. Ready.

You're hot, you're smart, and you're ruthless. You can do this.

Saddling up beside Kurt, a genuine smile slips across your face as you look up at him; Running a hand back through your hair. "Hey, Kurt." Slightly widening your eyes, you raise a brow as he turns to look down at you. "What's up?"

Like- its been a while. What have I missed?

Immediate 'Oooooh's and 'Oh no the ex- Kurt watch out!'s erupt from his meathead athlete friends, but what you care about is how Kurt struggles for a moment to tear his eyes away from yours, like the eyeliner you perfected and the colour and the just- you, has hypnotised him. He flashes his friends a wicked grin, waiving them off as he turns to put his body between you, and the group. It puts you so close together- and you sure don't step back any.

Then his eyes flicker down to the rest of you- and he really has a problem looking away. "Oh, uh, hey Y/N. N-nothing much. Uh... you look... "

A gentle chuckle flutters out of you, resting a hand on your right hip. "What? Black cat caught your tongue?"

Jesus- even the mention of that particular muscle reference to him does something to you. And being this close to him again, and seeing his reaction to your outfit... its all just so right. The way things should be.

He opens his mouth to say something else, but immediately closes it again on remembering something. A seriously awkward hm sound escapes him which you don't quite get yet, but you decide that you don't need to.

"So... " You start, getting rid of the tough bravado suddenly... letting awkwardness seep into your tone; Your appearance. On purpose. Eyes downcast, you let your arms slide down to your sides again, lacing your fingers together in front of you for a moment, pretending you're at a loss for words. "Um... maybe this is... weird... "

"What?" A big hand ghosts over your hip- you can just feel his skin graze against you.

You look up to catch his gaze again suddenly, lips and eyebrows scrunching after a moment, unsurely. "Uh, well... " Chewing innocently on your bottom lip, you hold your arms behind your back; not-at-all meaning to push out your chest more. No, not at all... "Me coming up to talk to you... since the break up... "

A hiss escapes him, as he suddenly, seemingly, like just seeing you had him returning to old habits, remembers that fact himself and takes a step back from you. Your brows knit together, up at him- perfectly pitiful.

"Oh man- yeah. Maybe. Fuck!" He runs a hand up through his hair, looking convincingly tortured.

Already!

You could rejoice.

Oh, Kurt... we've only just started.

Sighing, you look away again. "Look, I'm sorry. I just... well, Kurt, I've missed you!"

Suddenly his eyes, still and focused, turn more sternly down on you and your insides squirm at it. Like muscle memory, your body screams for you to back up; Get on your knees, bat your lashes. Ask what's wrong, Daddy?

His eyes narrow, and you resist the temptation to smirk. "Oh- no. No, Y/N. I know what you're doing, okay? I'm not dumb! This is all just too... too... " The fact that he cant even really speak, even as he's trying to be all tough and put up walls between you two, really gives you confidence. You must still really have an effect on him- as you should. Of course you do. One week with a little lily livered slut bag does not erase an entire lifetime between two people. Kurts lips curl into a scowl. "You're not like this." He states, and you raise your brows. Oh? "You're manipulating me, aren't you? Come on, Y/N!"

His tone is pleading. He's begging, you.

Damn, he must really want Miss Lizzie's little ass.

After a moment, you shrug. "Okay, whatever, you got me." Shedding the innocent act, you lean back on the pool table as the boys continue to play; Laying yourself out for him. "Does that mean I was lying? No, I really do miss you."

He scoffs. "Yeah, right." Rolling his own eyes, he focuses his gaze off somewhere else in the party- rather then on you. "All you care about is your reign of terror."

Oh... he knows that's not true.

But still, if he's going to play that way- "Yeah, sure- and all you care about is pussy." Shrugging, you drum your fingers bordly against the edge of the table on either side of you. "I guess we're a pair."

"Fuck, Y/N... you know you're... y-you're... Damn, that I love you. You fucking know that." He hisses, getting mad. And you inwardly smirk.

There it is...

Tightening your grip now, you look up at him to see he's once again looking at you. And for a moment, amongst all the madness that party's are- it feels like its just you two. "And you know... I love you."

Pushing off the pool table, you stalk towards him and trace your hands up his chest; Locking your arms around his neck lazily, and resting your chest against his. And you can see it. You can see, the struggle inside him about whether to just give into you- and your tits and your lips and your hips, and- just, you! Or to stay away. Because you're poison; Even you're well aware of that fact.

You're like a boa constrictor. You get yourself wrapped around your victim and you squeeze, and squeeze, and squeeze... until you have them just how you want them. Moulded into a shape that works well, for you.

But he's a lion. Imposing, and selfish, and self serving. And too big for you to ruin.

Its like you said; You're a pair.

And you cannot give him up.

"Kurt... come on." Leaning up, and talking in a quiet, just-for-him voice now, your lips brush against his and he lets out a shuddering breath. "We belong together, don't we? Its us- forever. You've known it since second grade. Sure, it took me a few more years to realise it too, but we're here now." Sincerity bleeds into your tone; Something you can't help when he looks like he wants to kiss you so badly, like that. "It can't be you and her." It cant. Tilting your head to the side, teasingly, you smirk mischievously; Just for him. "Is she going to fuck you like I do?"

"Shit... " Kurt mutters, eyes stuck on your lips. His hands find your waist, gathering you up against him roughly like he always does when he just wants you. Animalistically, wherever you are- whoever sees be fucking damned.

But he still isn't taking you. And that's a problem.

Brushing a thumb over his bottom lip, you turn your head like your making out to kiss him- but don't. Furrowing your eyebrows, you look pleading at him for an answer. "Was it all a lie, then? With us? Were we?- "

And that does it- he's had enough- he's at boiling point- Lips smash into yours, crossing the centimetre of space between them and he doesn't fuss around at all, to warm up. Your tongues connect almost instantly, and in 0.2 seconds, you two are that moaning, making out mess couple that every party has.

Through your lust filled haze, you can just about feel victorious.

A few moments after that your back hits the closest wall, and your legs wrap around his waist as he holds you up- you two know the drill by now. Kurt's grinding his raging hard on deliciously through his jeans into your bare cunt- moaning and muttering something into your cheek as he sloppily makes his way down to your breasts about you being such a slut.

You REALLY don't mind.

Eyes half lidded, you catch sight of Lizzie in the crowd behind Kurt. The crowd that, apart from her, doesn't care at all what the two of you are doing.

You smirk absolutely evilly towards her, before mouthing 'mine'.

[monstas1ut2]

1/3 (Eren Yeager)

(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

Bitches is my sons, that's why I be like, "Chile"

Chile, chile, chile, chile, ch-i-i-i-chile

At the lowest volume, Nicki was spitting bars. The LED lights on the brightest red there's to come as the window was covered with black out curtains. It happened to be bright outside but who opens their curtains at 8 am in the morning..? People who are productive and that's not you.

"Don't spend hours in there, brat."

A pout came onto your face, almost sucking your teeth... it wasn't going to be long until you were finished. Nonetheless though, your father always thinks you take hours to get ready to go somewhere.

"Im not ,daddy... Ion even wear makeup no more.. so it won't take long.."

Leaning towards the mirror, and pressing the lipgloss tip against your soft lips, your thoughts came around to your father.

Levi Ackerman, he's a short male who is quite intimidating, he IS intimidating. Despite his height, he's always winning a battle, whether it's verbal or physical. Which is why you always fail to win an argument against him. This was noticeable when you moved to his house ten months ago.

Before living with Levi, you were living with Hange.

Hange co-parents with Levi, the two were never together but they kept you happy and they are both Mom and Dad to you. The two are so different though. Hange would let you skip school, get ready late, almost everything in the book. She had to stop you from getting a sugar daddy though-

Levi is strict, he doesn't want anyone or thing touching his pretty Princess. Yes you're not biologically his but he still is your father, the only one you'd ever had. He taught you things, showed you the great life. He tried to get you to speak a bit more proper but he just stopped, oddly enough, he wanted you to embrace everything you had to offer.

It was a pain learning about your background, Hange was bad at doing anything for you as well. In result of this, your hair has dreads. Watching YouTube videos was Levi's new thing when you were younger. He managed to skillfully put dreads in your hair and... now they look quite amazing. Very long and pretty on you.

That's something you embrace, those pretty dreads. Knowing that your father put them in first , is one reason as to never take them out.

"I'm done, and, Mom said stop ignorin her... she wanna have a picture of me.. since it's my last year I guess.. ion know.. but she blowin up my phone.."

A bit of a smile casting on your brown skinned face. Fiddling with the phone in your hand. Today you were wearing a Jean like skirt and a black top to go with. Your med-long nails being a mix of white and gold, it complimented the melanin of your skin.

Levi glared at his phone that was vibrating on the nearest table and he'd sighed inwardly. Hange was so excited for your last year, while Levi was not. He also hates the fact that you are now going to the same school that he works at... the only bad thing being... the men there are complete perverts and prudes.

"Tell that bratty friend of yours to do it-"

"Connie isn't a brat, he just a lil mental..."

A lot of bald guys seemed to be mental, or is that just... stereotypical to say? Eh, either way, your Connie was mental. The guy was hilarious, he always knows how to put a smile on your face. Even though you two used to be fairly seperated. You now go to his school so at least you'll have one friend to lean on.

"dad, can you at least be happy for me...? It's my last year of school, not my last year of me bein in ya house.. cuz ion know how to cook... or do adult stuff.." a sheepish smile came upon your face, just staring at your father who happened to be suppressing a smile. He eventually did not though, but... you are the only person who can make him smile..

"I know, you burned down a kitchen before.." An evil smirk cascaded on his pale face. He knew that would hit you where it hurts, considering you were now silent but squinting your eyes playfully. It definitely wasn't Levi's kitchen, it was Hange's kitchen.. she had to get it remodeled.

Honestly, Levi liked that you couldn't cook, that way, douche bag men will stay away from you and it'll prevent them from making you barefoot and pregnant in a kitchen... he overthinks okay?

(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

Gripping your wrist ever so tightly, the two of you were walking towards the huge school. It was more of a modern taste, probably because the school was built only 6 years ago. The scale of the school had caused your body to overheat from anxiety. So actually, Levi was pulling you towards the school, no effort needed.

Once that door was open, it was all over. The main entrance had a pretty scenery. It was pictures and everything, though something that was odd was that black people were limited, looked like-

Okay okay, you're overthinking, but this school really doesn't have black people. If they do, they are in sports... which is why there was a man constantly talking on and on about female's basketball team...

You have to admit, you are a stallion.

"She doesn't want to be on the team... Shadis... stop yelling in her face.."

A bit of a concerned smile came upon your face as you glanced towards your father. Who only gave a soft look towards you. Levi may be insensitive at times but when it comes to you being nervous.. he's there.

"Where the hell is the principle..." Levi grumbled under his breath, he was quite late for his class.. but he had to make sure you were going to be fine.. like the worried father he is.

And Like on cue, a fine.. smexy blonde man came from the back door of the front office.. oooh.

His eyebrows were thick and he had this smile on his face. Like he knew who you were, though at the same time he probably already did. This man was in pictures at home, Levi knew him personally.

Apparently this man changed your diaper when you were little too.. so.. low chance of him seeing you any different..

Principal Smith... oohhh

"Levi, I told you yesterday, she'll be fine in my hands.. I can make sure she gets to every class. I'll also make sure nobody messes with her.." Erwin hummed out, knowing these words that came from Levi last week. His voice was deep and sincere, his pretty blue eyes glancing you over.. gawd oh mighty.

"And?" Levi's eyes squinted hard, his face quite serious about the last statement that Erwin seemed to pass by... or forgotten.. Man, someone would think Levi is the principal... and not Erwin.

"I'll make sure Yeager stays away from her.."

(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

The bell had rung oh so suddenly, the anxiety in you causing you to need to go to the bathroom but... your ancestors had to come down.

They whispered into your ear and explained that you are the baddest bitch in the world. Nobody can take that away from you, nor can the stupid anxiety.

"This is my daughter, (Y/n)... "

The baddest bitch with anxiety...

Every single eye was on you, in front of the class... it was obvious that most were just curious about you, mixed with shocked. When they heard the other day about getting a new student, they figured that it'll be someone... like them. At the same time though.. they could get used to the.. balance of the room.

The window across the room was beaming on your brown skin and it happened to make you look like a goddess. Your lipgloss sparkling as you glanced around, a soft smile on your face. Honestly, that only happened because of the fact that.. your bald friend was waving to you..

Connie...

The other day, a deal was made... Between you and your father. Who is also now your teacher for first period.

The deal was, you clean your room spotless and you get to sit next to Connie in class. Guess who succeeded?...

Your arms wrapped around male as he was blushing a tad. Being almost manhandled by you was everyone's dream at the moment. Especially a male who was behind you and Connie's table. He had this cool haircut, his face was long too but it fit his features.

"Why is she hugging the egg..."

"Jean you're just jealous.." the person who said this happened to be playing with their pencil. She had black hair and.. freckles.. it was cute. She looked mean though.

"Okay and..?"

Connie then began to of course, show off his best friend.. who happened to be you. Apparently what happened was that he told everyone about you one day. Nobody believed him, and Jean being the asshole he is.., he wanted answers so he -reluctantly- asked Levi if he had a daughter...

They weren't expecting someone like you...

Nor was.. this brown haired male who had his eye on you ever since you came in. His intimidating... blue, greenish looking eyes.. it's not something you failed to realize... but at the same time, you could feel your father's eyes as well.

"That's Eren over there, by Armin and Mikasa... he's a little coo-coo... so just talk to Armin and Mikasa.. then that's Bert , Annie, and Reiner, and Ymir, Jean, Sasha is the one eating and Historia.."

Honestly, you were never one to listen to someone when they say don't do something... Connie said don't talk to Eren... but some how... with the fluttering of your eyelashes.. you gave the long haired boy a wink. The wink sending him a burst of confidence that he already had..

it just got worse..

(๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ Masterlist 2

[ecoamerica]

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