#“Candy is nothing but lies.”

[the-derelicts-crew]

"Six of us went down into the pit. Only one crawled out. I am Eris, the last. I have seen what the Hive call a god."

[discjude]

Yeah this is about right (as always my thoughts are in the tags so there's actually kei content there lmao)

[thecoolertails]

a 14yo pro-ana blog just followed me dear god someone needs to help this kid

[teddybeartoji]

zombie apocalypse au where you end up in a settlement and meet a cutiepie satoru. he's lived almost his entire life there – sure, he goes on runs every once in a while but you've been out there. it's different.

right?

the dark bags under your eyes have yet to fade but satoru has never heard you complain. he knows everybody gets a talk when they first come to this place; where they can get help, who they can talk to when if they have any problems. if you can't sleep. or eat. or if you still feel restless. it's understandable that the change from having to fight for your life on a daily basis to not even having to carry a gun with you is hard.

the food tastes weird when you're not starving and drinking water seems like a complete waste when you're not dying of thirst. the bed you sleep on is too soft, the sheets feel like silk and it makes your skin itch. it's off-putting.

and yet, not a single complaint has left your lips. you observe your surroundings while handing out pretty little smiles like they're candy. you say thank you and goodbye, you offer to help out with the chores that weren't even yours to begin with and you're willing to entertain the kids with silly jokes. it's an almost perfect mask.

but you're tense; your eyes are always scanning your environment despite the fact that you've been at the settlement for almost a week now. you stretch your lips to show your gratitude, but satoru sees the way your fist tightens whenever the room is too crowded. the way you pocket smaller snacks when you think that nobody is looking. the way you flinch at a faraway sound of a child's laugh.

satoru finds you utterly intriguing.

people come and go, but you... there's something different about you.

maybe it's the dark, murky look in your eyes whenever you're handling a knife. carving a piece of meat like it's something you do every day; your eyes are the only things that change – you give a small smile to the lady working next to you as a thank you for whatever kind of advice she just gave you. she pats the steak while laughing and satoru doesn't miss the way your lips twitch.

you lick the remnants of the meat that stick to your fingers, the liquid that dribbles down the side of your hand the second she turns around. and satoru can't look away.

but there's no obvious malice.

it's interesting.

satoru is no detective, but he's done his fair share of people looking. what else is there to do when you're locked behind big walls; people are interesting, especially now that the world has ended. they tick faster, they explode bigger. they shiver more, they cry more. the lies have more consequences. it's hard to trust others, it's hard to trust anybody at this point. but satoru's eyes are keen, more so than anyone else's there.

you're not some caged beast, you're no dog on a leash, but you're an animal nonetheless. satoru just doesn't know which one yet. which of the living things that reside in the woods is calm enough to get so close to other people? confident enough. arrogant enough.

which one of them is as curious as you are? as sly? which one of them knows how to hide their sharp teeth behind a warm smile? satoru promises to himself that he'll figure it out, no matter what it takes.

or maybe the 'something' is the way you handle yourself when things go south. you didn't look away when a walker that managed to slip in through the gates sank his teeth into a man's neck. when everybody else was in shock, their eyes set on the gory sight in front of them – you were the first to grab the closest thing resembling a weapon and to deal with it.

blood splattered all over your clean clothes, your hair, your face. but you paid it no mind. this is what you're used to, this is what's normal. taking a knife to the poor wailing man laying on the ground was nothing special either. you kneeled down beside him and looked him in the eyes as you did it.

desperate hands reached out for you as fear settled in his stomach. he grabbed onto the collar of your shirt and pulled you closer, pleas stumbling from his lips like a waterfall. but to you, he was dead already. there's no remorse, there's no guilt. you're not a killer, you're a survivor.

satoru's mind raced as he watched you work while all the other had turned away, their sobs barely reaching his ears. no remorse, no guilt.

he just thought the blood looked beautiful on you.

but you're keen, too.

you try not to pay him too much attention, you try not to look but you feel his curious eyes wherever you go. you hear him laugh and you see his big smiles. he likes to play with the kids and he likes to tease his peers. he seems to know just about everybody, mingling in their lives by acting like a cupid or just indulging in gossip like some high schooler.

but something rotten sprouts deep inside him as well.

there's blood on his hands and you know it the second your gazes meet from across the big dining hall. the corners of his eyes crinkle and his dimples make a show as he gives you a grin, sharp teeth shining right at you. he knows you and you know him.

a survivor always recognizes a survivor.

[mv1simp]

prompt: max finding out one of the driver's "innocent" sister actually has a secret diary/account dedicated to all her naughty desires for him

Sweet Like Candy ♥️

Max Verstappen x Camgirl!Reader

sugar coated, lies unfolded, you still lick the wrapper. its addictive, you know this (but you still lick the wrapper)

At 27, three time world champion Max Verstappen has become bored with the blinding glamour and fake crowds who try to cling onto his fame. So when you catch his interest, sparking desire for the first time in months, he quickly becomes obsessed. He just never imagined his favourite camgirl would turn out to be his ex teammate’s shy, little sister who needed to pay off her college loans.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, camgirl!reader, Riccardio!reader, basically sugar daddy! max vibes lolz, somnophilia, blackmail, filming, cheating, 3.8k WC

Max Verstappen knew he was famous - everyone wanted a piece of the most desired driver in the richest sport on earth. When he'd been younger, high off the rush of being crowned a world champion, he’d been cockier about it, too. He enjoyed the smug arrogance that came with his skill, with his million figure paycheck, knowing that most men he met wanted to be him and most girls wanted to be with him. And it certainly didn’t hurt that he looked the way he did, all 6 foot of thick, built muscle and angled jawline with intense blue eyes. He’s had more than his fair share of rolling around in the sheets (and private jets and yachts and backseats of luxury Aston Martins - you get the picture) with countless models and actresses.

Now, at 27, he’d mellowed out, being quietly assured in his confidence and dominating aura. His talent and insane track record does all the talking for him without him needing to say a word when he steps into any room. And he’d stopped his playboy ways too, now the very picture of a loyal family man with his long term model girlfriend and her child who he doted on. It was true that he didn't hold any romantic feelings for her or love her particularly - but that was rare these days, anyways, with the superficial women who constantly surrounded him. But he knew he had her loyalty and in turn, she was provided for with access to Max's fame and finances.

Sure, he’s still offered temptations of money, drugs, alcohol, and sex on the daily, with tens of thousands of people desperate to offer him something to get a taste of the famous Max Verstappen. But unlike his younger self, his self control these days was much better. He rarely found something new that he hadn’t already tried and gotten bored of in his glamorous life as a F1 driver. He’d already started planning his retirement after his Redbull contract ended, somewhere on a remote island far away from all the greedy swarms eager to sink their claws into him.

So one day when one of his mates sent him a link, and your OnlyFans page pops up as he hovered over it, Max just rolled his eyes. His friend had texted that he had to check this chick out, she was so fucking sexy. Max had almost ignored it, already being used to countless offers from insta models DMing him on the daily. But maybe he’d been extra bored that day, because somehow he ends up clicking onto your page. And everyday, he thanks whatever fucked up God was watching from above that he did. Because what he saw next quickly became the world champion’s secret obsession.

You’re a cute young 20something, the very vision of a pure angel who lusted for dirtier fantasies she was too shy to ask for in real life. Your OnlyFans feed was filled with horny thoughts about wanting to get fucked by your older brother’s hot friend or which sexy songs you liked to listen to as you breathlessly use your pink bullet vibrator. It's a new page, started only a month ago, but you already have a few thousand followers, all drooling over the innocent yet tempting pictures you post. Nothing too raunchy - but more suggestive, in tight pastel crop tops with your nipples poking through or a shot of your curvy ass in a white lace panties. Probably a college kid, Max guessed, from the fact that the corner of a textbook could sometimes be seen in your photos and that you offered more naughtier photos to those viewers who payed a little extra. Clearly not any sort of adult film actress - and Max would know, because he’d definitely had some fun with one (or two) before.

But the real cherry on top was when he scrolled across a recent video stream you’d posted. Playing it out loud in his empty penthouse, his cock immediately hardened at the sight of your petite, curvy figure dressed up in lacy lingerie. You sat on your fluffy bed, surrounded by pink fluffy cushions and throw blankets, your face hidden from your teasing smile up. Your glossy, pouting lips giggle easily as you sway your hips in the cute lace babydoll you’re wearing, excitedly chattering about some pop singer you liked or the other. You're answering prying questions viewers are asking, reading them out loud from the chat. Did you have a boyfriend, what's your ideal type of man?

Max likes the soft, playful sound of your girly voice. His mind dirtily wonders what you'd sound like moaning underneath his much larger form. You hmmm for a second, pouting cutely, before shyly admitting that there was just one guy you’d had a crush on for ages, but he had no idea you existed. A friend of your brother's, in fact, you guys probably know him, you mused. He’s pretty famous! Comments flood the chat, trying to guess if he was a singer or actor or-

Nope, he’s an athlete! You giggle, biting your glossy lip and playing with your hard nipples. Max can’t resist palming his own cock through his sweats as he hungrily enjoys the sight of your pretty brown areolas through the see-through lace. He-mmmh-he’s Dutch, you begin, suppressing cute gasps as you toy with your oversensitive, perky tits. So tall, too, and super strong, I love seeing him shirtless! I’ll give you guys one more clue…he’s the fastest man alive when you put him in a racecar.

Ice blue eyes narrow as the comments finally hone in on just who you were talking about. So this is why his friend had sent him this, huh? He couldn’t deny he wasn’t pleased with the way you giggle cutely and confirm that your big fat crush was on Max Verstappen. I know it’s wrong, you whine, breathless as your small, manicured fingers slip down your body to play with the edge of your panties. It’s so naughty, he doesn’t know me and even has a pretty girlfriend, but every night I dream about him fucking me. He’s so hot, so dreamy, and that Dutch accent of his - you cut yourself off with a pleasurable moan, now teasing the audience as you finger yourself through your dripping panties, not letting anyone get a full view of your innocence. Let’s just say I’d let him use me anytime, anywhere, however he wants, you laugh sweetly, your voice a contrast to your dirty words.

Oh, fuck. Talk about a vixen. He hadn't seen a treasure as rare as you in a long time. And it looked like many, many viewers enjoyed your particular brand of angelic sinfulness as multiple donations flood in, begging you to finally take your panties off on the main stream. Max can't stop himself from sending a generous one himself, after jacking off to completion at the sweet sounds of you cumming through your panties. You'd eagerly humped one of your pink cushions, tits bouncing through the practically see through lingerie, moaning Max’s name as if he was right there under you when you reached your peak. Oops, sorry guys! You giggle again, your sweet voice now bashful. Got too caught up, next time I’ll make sure to say the name of the highest donor, mmkay?

It's a good OnlyFans account - no, a great one, but Max didn’t think of it much afterwards, getting caught up in his own busy life and making sure to erase his search history in case his overly paranoid girlfriend came snooping. The fact that you'd mentioned he was friends with your brother also meant very little, given his very large circle of friends and acquaintances given his fame. Everyone liked to say they were mates with Max Verstappen, F1 champion, even if the extent of friendship had been a single handshake.

To his surprise though, a few days later he received a private DM from you, sweetly thanking him for his generous donation! Curious, he opens your message, knowing you wouldn't know who he was from his generic username of CatDaddy33. He hadn't thought he had sent you much at all, maybe a couple grand? You deserved it, working so hard to dress up cutely and pay off whatever college loans you probably had.

But apparently you thought it was a very lavish contribution, because you’d sent him a very tempting photo as a thank you gift. He’d almost dropped his phone when he sees your lush bare tits, out on display as you stuck your pink tongue out cheekily, the rest of your face still hidden. Just for you. Hope you enjoy! you captioned, one small hand cupping your breasts and squeezing a pretty nipple that practically had Max salivating to sink his teeth into. Oh, he certainly enjoyed it, saving it to his private collection to jack off too later when his uptight girlfriend wasn’t in the mood - which was usually the case the majority of the month.

He ends up logging back onto your page that night to enjoy your latest steam, then another, and soon enough he had a full blown infatuation with you. Your tempting, curvy figure and your pretty lips that you bite as you keep talking about how turned on Maxie had made you in the qualifying today, looking so muscly and angry! has him downloading your naughty nudes to his phone. It’d been a long time since a girl had gotten him get so turned on, after all. You drove him wild with your girly, innocent mannerisms paired with your sexy body and filthy words as you play with yourself, always making sure to never fully reveal your face or naked cunny to the viewers with a slutty outfit covering you.

Of course, he generously tips each time he visits your page, resulting in you frequently sending him more thank you presents each time. Lately you've been asking him if he wants you to wear a certain outfit or call out his name in your next video, but he texts back that he just enjoyed watching you have fun, sweetheart. And that's true - because that's all this can be, just a private guilty pleasure for him to enjoy behind closed doors. The rest of the world wouldn't respond well to his dedicated, family man image if they knew that the Dutch champion secretly liked his girls sweet and begging for his attention on adult websites. Even though his actual relationship had become more of a PR facade, now, and had been that way for well over six months. The last chemistry fizzled out when she’d tried to wake Max up with her mouth on his morning wood, somehow trying to make up for weeks of no sex. He made up some excuse about being stressed for the race as he rapidly softened despite her repeat attempts, pushing her off him and going to shower.

But as soon as he’s under the warm steam, he’d only had to close his eyes and picture your perfect, full pouting lips on his cock instead for his impressive semi to come rushing back. As he lazily strokes himself, he wonders what your eyes looked like, still having never seen them with how you kept the top half of your face off the frame. Would you look up at him sultrily as your pink tongue darted out and licked his slit, or did you prefer having him meanly shove his cock all the way in as you gagged with wide, teary doe eyes? He guessed the second fantasy would be your pick, judging by how your breath seemed to hitch in excitement whenever a commanding order was DMed to you following a donation. The submissive type, for sure, who’d once said she’d eagerly let Max Verstappen have his way with her wherever, however he wanted her-

He came with a muffled groan, panting heavily as his release drips down to be cleaned away by the hot water. Maybe he’d finally give into your pleas to him to request something and ask you to suck a sweet lollipop for him on your next stream.

He puts his distracting thoughts about you to the back of his mind as he arrives on the paddock, camera flashes going crazy as they note the increased distance between the Redbull driver and his unhappy girlfriend as she trails behind him. Frankly, Max had stopped caring what his public image was at this point in the season, knowing it was only a matter of time before he got his PR manager involved to cook up some mutual breakup story to feed the media.

Qualifying goes well and the race even better for once, despite the shit box his car had been this season. Afterwards, he greets Daniel, who greets him excitedly and commends his race efforts. The two drivers are laughing, catching up easily in their conversation - when a small figure turns the corner to come up next to Daniel’s side. Oh! The Australian man grins, gently tugging the shy figure by his side forward. You remember my little sis, right Max?

The Dutchman stared at your blushing face as you nervously avoid eye contact with the much taller blonde. Cute, he thinks briefly, finding your brown doe eyes and Riccardio curls pretty. Sure, I remember her, we met at the Silverstone race last year, right? It had been a brief meeting, Daniel swinging by the Redbull garage to congratulate Max and you’d been trailing behind him. Max vaguely remembered you from your younger days, when you’d shyly stayed out of the older boys' way when he had visited Daniel in his Perth family home in Australia. But you’d grown up now, and had chosen to attend college overseas in London, and Max politely asks if you were still studying there. On a full ride scholarship too, Daniel confirms proudly, fondly ruffling your curls and making you protest. Still won’t accept a dime from her older brother, even with the ridiculous London rent.

Pouting rather adorably, you quickly fix your hair, glaring at your sibling as you mutter that you didn’t want his tax evasion money, thanks, you could look after yourself. Max laughs, pleasantly surprised you had some teeth behind your blushing, pretty face. You immediately look up to see his gorgeous blue eyes looking at you in interest before nervously flicking them away again, clutching onto Daniel’s hoodie as the two men resume their conversation. Later, as he watches you walk away, Max can’t help thinking about how your girly voice and pouting lips had looked so familiar. He knows many beautiful women, but there was something about your unique, natural face that made attraction swirl in his chest. He’s still thinking about it that night, annoyed about not knowing where else he’s seen you besides at your brother’s side.

And then your latest video had him sitting up straight in shock. Because he recognises the hoodie that’s draped across the back of your chair in the corner of the screen. He'd recognise it anywhere. You, of course, probably had not thought twice about the item of clothing that belonged to your brother - with it just looking like another piece of F1 merchandise to anyone watching. But Max knew that Redbull insignia on the back, signed DR3 along the logo generically but with an extra little present that Max had drawn on himself when his teammate had fallen asleep next to him on a private plane ride. The crude, cartoon dick drawing stares back at Max through the screen as he immediately recognises what he’d found funny as an 18 year old. There was only one person in the world who would own this sweatshirt personally customized by the world champion - and given the fact that you were the one who seemed to have borrowed it….the mystery of your identity finally unravels.

He sends you a private DM that very night, not wanting to play any games. He knew he had to have you, now that he knows you’re right under his nose. I know who’s little sister you are, baby.

You respond back immediately, which isn’t suprising considering how you’re in the same time zone currently. I have no idea what you’re talking about, you text, trying to deny his claim. Max smirks. He almost feels mean for winding you up but he knows you’ll be so grateful for it in the end. You’re telling me you aren’t Daniel Riccardio’s little sister? I saw you on the paddock today. No point in hiding anymore.

You seen his message for a few tense minutes, and he wonders if he approached this wrong because you could just block him. But then you frantically send back a how the hell do you know that? How did you find out?

Max chuckles as he corners you right where he wants. And an hour later you’re on a private video call with him, very differently dressed that your usual skimpy attire in a baggy t-shirt that covers all your skin as you demand to know just what he wanted. Of course, you still have no idea who he is, because even though he has his camera on, his face is well out of view. You can only squint at the image of a fit appearing guy, dressed casually in sweats but his strong muscles still showing through. You impatiently read out the next DM he sends you. I want to see your pussy, spread open for me completely-What the hell?! you shriek, outraged.

You try to get out of it, saying that was too embarrassing to do, but he makes you realise there it was futile to resist. He orders you to show your face in the video, saying there’s no point hiding it anymore since he knew exactly who you were. All over DM, of course - he couldn’t have your recognising his deep, Dutch voice that you always gushed about.

You pout cutely, lips downturned and an upset expression on your face as you slowly undress yourself for him. Then you follow his orders, gently playing with yourself as you teasingly suckle on your pink vibrator so that he could imagine what you’d look like with your lips around him, instead. Max lazily jerks himself off to the sight, enjoying how you started obediently following his instructions once you saw his hand reach into his sweats and slide his erection out. Your doe eyes went wide with guilty desire at the sight of his impressive, hard length, and you swallow back drool when you see his leaking, angry tip. Soon he had you spreading your puffy cunny lips wide for him to greedily look at, before you start sliding your little vibrator in between your achy core. He makes you call out his name like you always did, of course, and say out loud all of the dirty fantasies you’d been dreaming about lately involving your brother’s best friend. You cum intensely and Max follows shortly after, the both of you caught up in the sinful activity.

It’d been easy enough to find out the room number you’d been staying at as the Riccardio siblings were at the same hotel as him, and even easier to get the swipe card. He was Max Verstappen, after all. Leaving his bitchy girlfriend alone in his room, he makes his way to yours in the middle of the night. The hallway light briefly illuminates your peacefully sleeping figure when he opens the door, quietly locking it behind him.

You’re deep asleep, plush tits rising and falling, dressed in a cute see through lace nightgown and matching panties. After admiring the sight for a few minutes, he slides into bed behind you, finally getting to toy with those pretty nipples and squeeze the plush ass he’d been fantasising about for weeks on end. You quietly moan in your unconscious state, sleepily grinding back against the warm, hard body holding you and arching your back into the hungry mouth suckling on your stiff nipples. Soon he’s wedges his fat cock in between your thick thighs, panting heavily as he fucks then slowly so you don’t wake up. He barely lasts a couple minutes, his head dizzy with pleasure for the first time in months as blood rushes to his already hard cock. After he’s cum copiously all over your tanned skin, he slides off your panties to take for himself, making sure to rub his creamy release along your puffy slit with his large hands. He can’t resist sliding a finger inside to get feel of how luxuriously tight your pussy feels, groaning when he feels your walls clench down on him. His cock was going to experience heaven when it finally got to sink home inside you, he was sure.

You spend your day confused the next morning, remembering hazy wet dreams from the night before but not quite being able to recall exact what you’d dreamt. And you’d never been able to find your favourite lace panties, assuming they got lost in the laundry when room service cleaned up. Until your online bully, as you’d taken to calling him, sends you a naughty photo. It’s one that he could only have had access to if he’d taken it himself, you realize with a shocked gasp, as you stare at your peacefully sleeping figure. A gigantic cock, much bigger than any of your cute toys, slides into the waistband of your pink panties - which are completely see through from how soaked they’ve become. And that was one of the tamer pictures Max took that night. He wonders how you’d react to the one he has of his drooling tip brushing against your parted lips, his sticky release from earlier now leaking into your wet mouth.

You’re even cuter when you’re not putting up a fight his message says. You freak out, of course, but he doesn’t respond to your frantic questions and instead orders you to be dressed up for him tonight in that navy lace babydoll and matching blindfold set he’s having delivered, okay?

You swallow, unable to hide the rising curiosity and desire at the rich, mysterious stranger you had drawn in. You can’t really be mad at him when he sends a $10k reward to your account after teasing you with the filthy photos he’d been taking. A girl had to pay off her college loans, after all.

Besides, a hot, muscled sugar daddy appealed to you a lot more than streaming for thousands of strangers. You couldn’t wait to meet him tonight!

—————————————————————————

A/N: 😏😏😏 thank you so much for waiting patiently my dearest readers, work has been crazy but I finally have some time now to feed you!!! Get ready I’m about to be dropping some hot pieces for you including part 2 of earned it and haunted!!

[quirrrky]

—•✦ THE BOY IS MINE

OIKAWA, KUROO, BOKUTO showing you that he belongs to you and you to him

≡ NOTES ⋮ I'M BACCKKK! and I'm super excited, can;t wait to fangirl w/ y'all! I'm gonna cri 😭 I miss my boys sm T^T bokuto's made me giddy and kuroo's got me smiling like shit...don't get me started with oikawa!

OIKAWA

You were on the sidelines watching the man you adored so much being adored by so many other girls. No lies, some of them were prettier than you, you’d think. They could be a good match for your boyfriend.  

Still, you didn’t bother. Tooru always assured you of your worth and how perfect you were for him in every sense––the most beautiful in his eyes.  

Tooru delivered an impactful serve, and the crowd cheered including the other girls beside you. Even from afar, he sent you a smile with a matching flirty wink. The girls squealed with so much giddiness, probably thinking it was for them.

He cast another glance at you, which you returned primly.  

You were always his number one fan. You might not be on par with him when it came to Volleyball, but you didn’t mind being his cheerleader, his anchor and the source of his strength whenever he’d feel inadequate.  

You were secured and not moved by how many fangirls he had until now. The reporter pulled Tooru to the side together with a known female Volleyball player who’s around the same age as him.  

The two of them were the top players of their teams–the most competent. The reporter and everybody else simply admired seeing the both of them side by side.  

“Oh! They look so good together!” You heard those around you murmured.  

“Maybe they’re dating...” The others speculated. 

A bitter sting gnawed inside you. The image of Tooru happily playing Volleyball with a partner who could really challenge him head-to-head was making it difficult for you to breathe.  

You were lost in your thoughts when you suddenly felt a hand around your wrist, gently dragging you somewhere.  

T-Tooru?  

He brought you by his side and laced his arm firmly around you. 

“Practice and perseverance are totally the keys in winning but for me it’s not just that,” Tooru responded to the reporter. “We all need a lucky charm, I tell you.” He pulled you closer to him, shifting his gaze to lovingly study your face, saying, “And I got mine right here.”  

You blushed, feeling the heat crawling all over your face. The crowd squealed and hollered yet they didn’t matter in that moment.  

The reporter ended the interview with lighthearted teasing directed at you and Tooru, prompting the start of the last match.  

“How ‘bout a good luck kiss, huh?” He teased.  

“W-What’re y-” You weren’t even able to finish as he already placed a sweet peck on your lips. “Tooru!” You complained when he parted, and he replied by playfully sticking his tongue out.  

Your fingers travelled your lips. Perhaps, you’ve got nothing to worry about after all.  

KUROO

It’s a big day for you and your boyfriend. It would be the first time he’d be giving a welcome remarks to open his institution’s black-tie event. You were even proud to be the one who did his speech.  

As his extra special plus one, he never left your side with both of you just keeping things, hands to yourself, acting as a professional and sober couple. 

However, you were bothered to say the least. You always knew that you had a fine boyfriend. He looked straight out of a novel after all. Tall, handsome and with a good suit to complete the look.  

Tetsurou seemed like every billionaire bad boy in the books you’d encounter in bookstores’ new adult section. It’s no wonder that the girls in his company party all had their eyes on him like he’s a piece of hunky meat they’d jump on at any moment. 

Deep inside, you’d want to be swallowed by the universe below. You were never insecure about your looks, well, maybe sometimes you were like right now! Were you not even pretty enough for them to keep their attraction to themselves? Were you not playing the eye candy part so well?  

Do you even look good beside him? 

Black dress, pretty face and hypnotic smile all amplified by the sweet scent of honey—you’re Kuroo’s most prized possession, not that he treats you as an object. Well, yes, to put it simply you’re the object of his desires, adoration and affection.  

Wasn’t it obvious that you were with him? Yeah right, call him petty, but he couldn’t bear the eyes of these bastards on you.  

Hell, pretty was even an understatement when it came to you. As much as he wanted you to be revered for being the goddess that you are, he still couldn't accept all the gawking you’re receiving and him being disregarded like he wasn’t even there when he’s the boyfriend, the future husband and the forever person.  

He promised he’d behave himself and keep the PDA on low since today’s a formal event, but it looked like he won’t be keeping up with that anymore. 

Jolted, your shoulders rose as Tetsu slithered his arm around your waist. He tugged you closer to him so you were both attached to the hip. You just froze in surprise when he leaned, placed a kiss on your forearm and dropped another one on your shoulder.  

You felt the heat rushing to your face. Your eyes held his as they met. “What...what are you doing?” you whispered and he propped his chin on your shoulder.  

“Showing them who you belong to.” 

Internally, you’re partying. You’d be lying to say that you didn’t want that because you definitely want to show all these girls that Tetsu would only have his eyes on you. “Okay, just don’t overdo it.” 

A lopsided grin appeared on his face. “Not very sure about that.” 

BOKUTO

At last, your fiancé, superstar athlete Bokuto Koutaro, will be arriving home tonight. It has been several months since he’s been away to train and to participate in the Olympics. Now, he’ll be coming home after playing with his utmost best.  

You were standing, waiting for him in anticipation at the airport. This was the moment you’d been waiting for and your face immediately lit up after seeing him walk from the arrivals. His eyes were still sleepy with his pillow still latched around his neck.  

In anticipation, you took a step forward approaching him, but the reporters and his fans beat you to it. Now, he’s swarmed with the crowd taking pictures and asking him questions. Some of them were even bumping into you and all you could do was watch. You were just a mere ordinary citizen, lurking in the shadows of those who admire him.  

You clutch on your chest. You were truly happy for him. Genuinely happy for the recognition he’s receiving. He deserved every bit of it, but...How you’d wish to be closer to him. Be the home he goes back to where he could be just Koutarou, the loving and silly boy you came to love. You just missed him so much. 

A bitter smile appeared on your face, surrendering to your fate until his eyes met yours across the sea of people. He glowed radiantly, beaming at the sight of you. Without hesitation and despite everybody else around, he made a way for himself towards you. 

With so much excitement, you yelped as he hugged you tight and carried you that your legs hooked around him in reflex. Koutarou peppered kisses over your face cooing so lovely that he finally got to see and be with his most adorable Y/N. You giggled, getting a little ticklish with his kisses.  

“Babe, babe! Not here!” You protest in middle of chuckling. “There are people around.” 

Koutarou pouted. “But I miss you so much.” 

“Me too,” you said in a wide grin and he giggled like a school kid finally getting his favorite toy as present.  

He rubbed his nose against yours. “Let’s go home!” 

@pixelcafe-network

[luveline]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐲 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨'𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

miguel assumes you're mad when you stop initiating kisses and tries to get back on your good side —featuring grumpy but lovelorn miguel and his head-in-the-clouds spider-girl. requested here. fem!reader, 3k.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

"Gàn de piàoliang!" cheers the puppy at the bottom of your screen. Well done.

You smile at him and slide your finger across a lilac candy to make another three-match. 

The music playing from your phone quietens as a text lines the top of the screen. You click it as soon as you recognise the contact picture beside it, your handsome Miguel with a filter over his face that paints rosy pink hearts over his high cheeks. 

Finished. his text says. 

Miguel is a man of little words. Over the phone he talks even less, easier to draw blood from stone than harness a conversation with him that isn't in person. His text demarcates the wall of messages you sent him earlier, not wanting for a reply but bursting to tell him things as they happened. 

You put your phone down carefully. It's one of your most treasured possessions, shimmering and high tech, you can fold it down the middle to fit in your little spider suit pockets, though the amount of charms and beads hanging from it now impedes that particular functionality.

Miguel gave it to you as a gift without any fanfare around the time you started staying in his apartment in the society, and while your bunking with him was supposed to be temporary, the phone is for keeps. You've decorated it accordingly.

The best charm is a beaded translucent jellyfish, and not solely because it's beautiful: Miguel has a matching one that he showcases shamelessly. 

You rush into his neat bathroom and lean heavily on the counter, propping your hand on the faucet to hold your weight as you assess your reflection in the mirror. When you turn your face, your nose shines in the light. 

You decide it's best to wash up. Miguel will be back soon enough. 

You get distracted by skincare, toner pads resting on your cheeks when you hear the door opening. A waste to take them off prematurely, you pat them flat to your skin and meet Miguel in his bedroom half ready. 

"I can see why you didn't text me back," he says, giving you a quick glance from the corner of his eye as he walks past the bed and your waiting phone. He beelines for the kitchenette and disappears around the corner. "What do they do, the squares?" 

"They're calming, I think," you say, following his path from the bathroom to the small kitchen. 

His apartment is big but not huge. The main room is his bedroom, with enough space for a couch and a TV he never uses that comes out of the wall. To the right is a utility closet for storage and a walk-in wardrobe, and to the left lies the kitchen and the bathroom. It takes you all of ten seconds to be by his side. 

Bottles rattle as Miguel opens the fridge. He grabs sparkling water for himself and a fruit tea concoction for you. You hadn't followed him for that, but you accept it anyway. 

He looks tired. Tilting his head back to drink, you eye the stiff set to his shoulders and the way he rolls his arm out, orchestrating an offer for a massage in your head. 

Miguel squints at you. "What?" 

"What?" you ask back. 

He doesn't explain. He screws the lid back on to his water and closes the fridge. 

With his empty hand, Miguel reaches for your face. You stay very still in anticipation of his touch, imagining how he might take your cheek in his hand and pull you close, or perhaps curl thick, long fingers behind your neck and guide your chin up. He can be rough in odd ways, as though he's unaware of his strength. 

"It's slimy," he says in disgust, pulling a toner pad from your left cheek. 

"It's going to make my skin clearer." 

"There's nothing wrong with your skin." True or not, you know it's Miguel's way of being sweet. He takes the second toner pad too, tossing them in the trash with a huff. "That's better. You look normal. Or, as normal as possible." 

"Jerk!" you say through a smile, thinking now's the moment. 

But Miguel hasn't peeled away your skincare to kiss you. He pats a spot of dampness on your cheek away with the back of his hand and turns on his heel, gunning for a change of clothes and a shower, if you know him. "Drink your tea. Did you eat? Me preocupo por ti." 

You sigh and trail after him. "I was waiting for you to come back. It's Vietnamese week in the cafeteria, they're making cá kho tộ. Do you like that? It's sweeter than hake." 

"It's fish?" 

"Catfish. Caramelised catfish." You sit down on the bed, flipping your phone open to play your game while he decides. 

That, and to ignore the inkling of doubt blossoming like mould under heat in your chest. An achy sort of worry… 

Does Miguel not want to kiss you? 

"What's the other option? I don't like sweet foods." 

You knew that already. "You could make pasta?" you suggest. 

"You'd love that." 

"Are you teasing me?" 

Miguel pokes his head out of the wardrobe, and with it comes his naked chest. His muscles are insane, lean tanned stretches of cord pulled taut as he grabs a shirt. "I'm making an observation. You like carbs." 

"Everyone likes carbs, Miguel, especially Spiders." 

"I know, but I don't make anyone else dinner." He's definitely flirting now, his voice playful and soft. "I'll make you pasta if you want." 

Why hasn't he kissed you? Offering to make you dinner, smiling at you just as soon as his face has been pulled through his t-shirt. He's acting as affectionate as a man who'd like to kiss you without pulling through. 

Well, maybe you kiss him too much. Come to think of it, you initiate the vast, vast majority of kisses, and you must kiss him twice a day at least. Miguel clearly favours you, but it's possible he isn't interested in as much physicality as you and hasn't had the heart to say. He likes watching vintage movies at night and half the time you're not interested in those. You haven't said a word about it because things between you are new and you like his being happy watching the things he enjoys. Miguel could be doing the same, allowing hugs and kisses he doesn't necessarily want in order to avoid hurting your feelings. 

A favourite phrase of his cuts through your thinking, "¿Alguien en casa?" Anyone home?

"Oh, sorry, were you not getting enough attention?" you ask him, pretending to be more nonchalant than you are as you open the match game on your phone. 

The puppy barks hello. 

"Ah, you're a cómico now." Miguel sits on the bed beside you in sweatpants, reaching across the sheets to give your arm a shake. "I said, I'll make you pasta if you want pasta." 

"I want what you want," you say honestly. 

He stares at you. You're not sure what he's confused about. "Alright. Did you want it now?" he asks. 

"Yes, serf," you say, laughing when he knocks your phone out of your hand and stands in a dramatised annoyance. 

You play a couple levels of your game to give him space. He's quiet as he washes his hands and gets out the cookware, but he appears curious in the door, rag between his hands. "You're not gonna come and sit with me? I really am your maid." 

Eager for an invitation, you join him in the kitchen. You brace yourself behind you to hop onto the counter and find his hands on your hips, helping you up. 

Miguel meets your eyes as he does, not close but enough to beckon down for a kiss. You think about doing it. He might let you, his straight lashes pointed with his gaze, his eyes a heavy weight where they trace your features unhurried. 

"How come you didn't text me back earlier?" he asks. 

"Oh, I didn't know you were expecting me to. I'm sorry, handsome, I was kind of grody–"

"Grody? I doubt that–" 

"–I figured I'd wash up before you got back." 

"So you were busy?" he asks, returning to the chopping board at the left of the stove. He picks up a glinting-sharp knife. "Not something else?" 

"No, why? Was I supposed to do something today?" 

Miguel begins slicing into a tomato, red skin splitting to reveal greener insides. "No. No, just wondering." 

You lean back against the wall, crossing a leg over your thigh. He's being kind of off. Your first impulse is to try and kiss it better but that directly fights your new theory. Being nice physically is far from your only weapon. 

"Did you have a good day?" you ask, and here's where you'd pull him close or sidle up behind him and twist his hair around your finger. "I was thinking about you a lot. Did the strike mission go okay?" 

"Fine. You didn't come see me, but it was fine." 

You eye him from the corner of your vision. He's still cutting up tomatoes, a pan of olive oil and minced garlic simmering between you. 

"I sent you all those photos," you say. 

One of the Peter's you hang around with got his arm stuck in a window after he said, "Is that a bad idea, do you think? I really wanna try," and Hobie said, "They can't stop you." 

The 'they' being unknown, Hobie was right. No one could stop Peter once he started climbing, but the window could certainly stop him from getting down. You'd sent Miguel pictures of his dangling body up in the atrium like a dark splodge, as well as a blurry photo of your face when you'd accidentally turned the camera. He responded to that one with a heart but the rest he didn't touch. 

"They got him down eventually," you continue, "but I had to stay for moral support! And to feed him popcorn so he didn't starve. Was it peaceful without me?"

"You know I like when you visit me, right?" he asks carefully. 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah?" he mimics, waving his hand at you. "Can't deal with you. Get the cream from the fridge." 

You eat dinner as you and Miguel tend to do —you talk your way through it happily, smiling and joking, and he puts extra helpings on your plate when you aren't looking. 

The alien quality of what you're doing rears its head briefly. He's trying to stop the quasi apocalypse. You're willing to help, though you'd been more interested in Miguel and getting to know his enigma than your responsibilities. Weird how love makes you want to be better. 

"What was your course like?" Miguel asks, when the dishes have been set aside for washing and you've showered for the night. 

He's talkative tonight. 

"They taught us how to wield a baton," you say, climbing into his bed with a tired sigh. "One girl was crazy about it. She kind of looked like me…" You yawn, looking for his waist as he settles in the sheets and pillows next to you. "You're lucky I got my claws into you when I did. At least I'm not murderous. Much." 

Miguel covers your hand on his ribs. He squeezes your fingers together gently like he's collecting them under his palm for borrowing. 

"You didn't get your claws in me. I'm not easily led." 

"Course not," you snort. You actually agree with him, but he said it too seriously for bedtime. 

Miguel abandons your hand to pull you in, encouraging your head and upper chest onto his, hand coasting up and down the length of your arm lovingly. Firmly, like a massage, but adoring nonetheless. You languish in his touches and rub your lips, still tingling from spearmint, against the collar of his shirt gently. As indirect a kiss as you can manage, practically sick with longing after a day unkissed. 

"Are you mad at me?" he asks into the quiet.

You pause, fingers with a mind of their own as you take a long strand of hair that curls under his ear between them, combing it flat. "Why, have you done something?" you ask, hiding your confusion with a delighted lilt. 

"I've been trying to work that out." Frustration seeps into his voice, roughened syllables drawn tight, "But you're evasive." 

"I'm evasive," you say softly, tilting your head back to meet his eye. "Miguel, why do you think I'm mad at you? I'm not mad." 

Miguel glares at you. Brows furrowed, an especially formidable downturn to an otherwise pretty mouth, he looks as though he wants to start a fight with you, and as though he doesn't believe it. 

"I'm not mad," you insist, sitting up a little. 

"Then…" 

You scrunch your brows at him. "You've been thinking I was mad at you all day? Why didn't you say something, handsome?" 

He might roll his eyes at your pet name if he weren't knee deep in relief. You didn't know being mad at him was something he'd be sad with, and yet there he is lying beneath you, blowing a big enough exhale to ruffle the hair from his forehead. 

Miguel takes your face into one hand. Your eyelashes flutter against his palm like a shuddering butterfly wing as you lean into his touch, more than happy to offer him whatever relief it is he needs while enjoying in the feeling of being close to him. 

"You haven't kissed me all day," he says quietly. "I thought I must've pissed you off, 'cos you're more piranha than girl sometimes, but you weren't acting any weirder than usual beyond that." 

You roll your eyes and hide your face in his hand. He's kidding around, and his thumb rubs over your skin tenderly to prove it. 

"You're not mad?" he asks again. 

You kiss his palm. You kiss his wrist, happy when he knows the moves like a well practised dance, his fingers sliding behind your ear to steady you as you dip down for a kiss. 

It's a good kiss. Warm mouths vying for one another but trying not to seem desperate, Miguel's hand behind your ear growing harsher as you pull a breath against his lips. You press your hand into his pec too hard. 

"Sorry," you murmur, stealing another fast kiss and pulling away. 

You barely feel how uncomfortably you're skewed, you're that happy. 

"Is there a reason you wouldn't kiss me?" he asks. 

"I'm, like, always the first one to initiate and I kinda got it in my head maybe you didn't want me kissing you that much…" You grin at him. "The whole time you're playing twenty questions with me wishing I'd lay one on you. You know you have a voice for more than yelling at people, right?" 

Miguel gets this look in his eyes then, rolling his jaw a touch at the supposed audacity of what you've said. The tip of his tongue works at his canine tooth, his eyebrows rising as he asks, "Oh, is that how you're talking to me tonight?" 

"How else should I talk to you, Miguel?" 

He doesn't bother with swiftness nor a show of strength as he rolls you onto your back. He settles above you with measured movements, a pleased smirk playing on his lips now. His eyes are dark, pupils wide as dimes.

"With compassion, mi cielo," he says.

"Have some sympathy for me," you implore him, wrapping your arms around his waist. It diffuses the tension, though neither party minds, evidenced by Miguel's easy relaxation and your ecstatic mood. Happiness bubbles up like carbonated bubbles, your chest awake with a fizzing excitement. "You really thought I was mad 'cos I wasn't kissing you?" 

He avoids the question. "You think you're the only one who initiates?" he asks genuinely. 

"Why didn't you kiss me, then? When you came home?" 

"Your face was wet." 

"And after when we were eating dinner?" 

Miguel smiles at you. No sarcasm, no stress. He leans down to kiss you chastely, pulling away to say, "I thought you were definitely mad at that point." 

"A kiss would've made me feel better." 

You realise how quiet your bubble of the world really is for that handful of seconds, Miguel holding himself above you, your hands loose behind the broad stretch of his back. 

"You know you can just ask me, yeah? You don't have to worry and wonder how I'm feeling. I'll tell you how I'm feeling if you want to know." 

"Cariño, I always want to know," he says. 

You breathe out slowly. Miguel takes your face into his hand for another kiss, or so you think —he pinches your cheek. 

"And I always want to kiss you," he says quickly, climbing off of you. 

"Where are you going?" 

"I need a drink." 

A break from sincerity. You don't mind that he needs to walk it off as long as he comes back. You stretch out on your back and cover your face with your hands. 

"People think I'm the weird one," you say into them.

A hand clamps around your ankle and tugs you down. You shriek with startled laughter and climb away from him as he lands on top of you, a cold water bottle held to your bare neck. 

"No!" you laugh. 

Miguel laughs in tandem and presses it further down. 

"I really am going to be mad at you if you don't quit!" You yelp as condensation wets your collar. "Miguel!"

"You're a wimp," he says with a bright smile. 

You push him with some enhanced super strength and manage to get the water bottle off of your neck, but Miguel makes up for any differences in strength with enthusiasm and muscle alike, shoving you down. 

You're laughing and pleading at the same time, "Please, Miguel, stop, it's sooooo cold." 

Miguel laughs, dropping the bottle somewhere above your head, covering the cooled stripe of your skin with his big hand. The sound is warming enough, but you let him sweat for a second, content to be doted on. 

He gives you a once over. "I'll kiss you first more," he promises. 

"Starting now, please, handsome. Mi cielo." 

Miguel groans and digs his arms under your back. You don't fight it as he drags you back to the top of the bed. In fact, you quite enjoy it. You lay back to receive his sorry pecks and his all encompassing hug, forgetting what you'd been worried about one damp crescent moon of a kiss at a time.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!

[11vr1]

Been Away ⭒ Miles Morales

Synopsis › You were tired of his secrets and lies, so you did the one thing you promised you’d never do and walked away. But Miles Morales wasn’t going to let you go so easily.

Pairing › Earth-42! Miles Morales x Fem!Reader

Inspo › “Been Away” - Brent Faiyaz

Includes › ATSV SPOILERS, Angst, the tiniest bit of fluff, pet names, spanish, a microscopic amount of manipulation, toxicity, going back to your ex, stalking, harassment, mentions being mugged, mentions being stabbed, mentions the police

P.S. › I do my best work when I’m sleep deprived.

P.S.S. › Reading comments and reblogs really make my day, even if you’re telling me my commas suck. Requests are also open.

Y/n pulled down the sleeves of her crocheted sweater as she stepped out of the bodega, white plastic bag of chips and candy in hand. The sun was close to setting behind skyscrapers and plunging New York City into its usual state of terror. It was dangerous to be alone on the streets, but Y/n figured she’d be fine walking a few blocks to her friend’s place. She pushed through sidewalk traffic, passing others who were just as eager to be safe in their homes.

Her phone chimed with a text.

Unknown: Turn left.

She paused, looking up to scan her surroundings. There was nothing strange or out of place. Just stores closing up for the night and people minding their own business. Despite how normal everything seemed to be, Y/n knew better. She spared a glance at the alley to her left, immediately deciding against it and kept walking.

Another chime. She ignored it and the next. Stopping wasn’t worth possibly ending up on the eleven o’clock news. At least that’s what she told herself. The less rational part of her mind had a thought. In some ways more terrifying than being mugged.

Tucked away in her pocket, her phone rang. This time she checked. Unknown. Y/n scoffed, rejecting the call.

Unknown: One more chance.

Unknown: Take a left.

Unknown: I won’t ask again.

Her phone rang once more. With a long, begrudging sigh Y/n swiped to accept. “I thought you weren’t going to ask again,” she said, her eyes darting warily to the darkening street.

“Make a left, Y/n,” a deep distorted voice ordered from the other line. Her heart dropped. Maybe the irrational part of her brain wasn’t as off kilter as she thought. The call hung up like she didn’t need anymore convincing.

The yawning mouth of an alley stared back at her. She took a calming breath, inhaling the morning rain before stepping away from any potential witnesses. Her footsteps echoed in the eerie silence of the alley. Her skin heated in either fear or anticipation, she didn’t know. “I don’t have all night,” she spoke into the open air. “I will leave.” Y/n attempted to hide the tremble in her throat.

Her ringtone was shrill in the alley. She jumped. The bright smiling photo of her friend illuminated her face. She did not hesitate to answer. “Hello?”

“Thank god! You’re still alive. Are you close?”

“Yeah, I’m almost there, Ellie,” Y/n began to exit the alley. “The bodega line was long.” She rustled her haul of snacks.

“It’s getting dark. I can send my brother to meet you. Ya know he’s always had a bit of a thing for you and now that you’re single…” Ellie trailed off. Y/n could practically hear her smile.

She rolled her eyes, laughing nervously, “You don’t have to make him come get me. I’ll be—” She was cut off by her own scream ripping from her throat. A streak of darkness and neon flashed in front of her, swiping the phone from her hand. Her grocery bag tumbled to the concrete as she stumbled over her heels. Cold metal met her back. A well defined arm snaked around her waist, held her impossibly tight.

“Y/n? Y/n!” Her friend’s voice rose over the speakers.

The smooth phone screen pressed against her cheek. “Tell her you’re okay then hang up,” the same warped voice demanded in her ear.

Y/n felt her lips move before he ended the call. Some quick lie about a monstrous rat. Blood thrummed through her skull along with her ragged breaths.

“Let me go!” Y/n wrestling out of his grip with no resistance, finally turning around. She halted. Pixelated eyes narrowed at her. What had she been expecting? Was a mask better?

Getting slashed for the money in her wallet and being left for dead by a dumpster was starting to sound more appealing than her current situation.

Mechanic panels whirred and parted open. Rich, penetrating dark eyes took in every inch of the girl in front of him, peeling back layer after layer in that calculating glare Y/n knew all too well. “Hola, mami.”

She hoped to never hear that name fall from anyone’s lips. Much less his. Y/n allowed a selfish moment to let her gaze wander. His braids were fresh, obviously not her work. Fade clean. Jay’s untied. Bronze skin annoyingly flawless. He was the same, except for the faint bags decorating his eyes. His chuckle bounced off the brick walls, catching her. It was sobering.

“You have one minute, Morales. One minute before I run screaming and call the feds on your ass,” she crossed her arms.

“Morales?” Miles raised an eyebrow. “Damn. Is that what we doin’ now?”

“Fifty.”

He circled her like the predator he was, each footstep deafening. “You look good, ma. Where you goin’ so late? It’s not safe.”

“You know where! You’ve been following me, remember? How long have you been doing that for? Just another secret, huh?” Y/n was on the verge of yelling, her initial fear replaced by pure rage. “You’re not even going to deny it.”

Miles dared a step forward. Y/n took two back. “You’re afraid of me.” Her lack of an answer was a shattering confirmation.

“I’m afraid of what you do, Miles,” she motioned to his suit, the spray painted insignia physically painful to see on his chest. The Prowler. She would have never fathomed the possibility if she hadn’t seen him in action herself. “You’re a criminal. You steal. You’ve killed people,” she choked trying to swallow back tears.

He dragged a gloved hand down his face. “You don’t understand.”

“You’re right! I don’t get it. You changed and I don’t understand why.” Her waterline welled. Three months of suppressed feelings threatened to rear their ugly heads when he was near. Because of him, of course.

It was ironic how much he made her feel, even now. Ellie, other friends, Y/n’s family never fully warmed up to Miles. He was unfeeling, nonchalant, closed off. They couldn’t see how a girl like her could fall for him and stay. At least that’s the promise she made.

“So did you. You walked away. Left me. What happened to our forever, Y/n?”

“You expected nothing to change? In what world would I not react or feel some typa way?” She tensed. Another wave of anger seared through her veins. How dare he turn this on her? “Oh wait,” her laugh was humorless. “I was never supposed to find out.”

“I have to do this. The world ain’t right and I need to protect the people I care about,” he placed a hand over his armor, over his chest. “I couldn’t do shit about my dad, but you…” He stalked closer. This time she didn’t back away.

Miles grasped her hand, placing it over his heart. She couldn’t face his intensity for too long, not without air. He wore the same musky cologne she gifted him for Christmas.“Mirame,” he tilted her delicate face towards him. “Mi corazón, I can keep you safe. You gotta let me. If something happened to you I don’t know what I would do.” His chiseled features twisted, barely able to utter the words. He finally closed the space between them, resting his forehead against hers.

“One minute,” Y/n whispered. It had been more than one minute.

Without separating, he slowly slipped her phone into her back pocket, letting his fingers linger by the waist of her jeans. “Call them. I’ll stay right here and you can end this. You’ll never have to see me again. Prometo, mi corazón.”

She should have listened when Ellie told her to stay away. Undeniably gorgeous, genius level intellect, sexy accent. There was always a catch, she said. She was right. But there was one drawback not even her best friend predicted.

Y/n pulled away. Suddenly the autumn air was too chilly through her sweater. She unlocked her phone. Typed 9-1-1. She looked up through her lashes at Miles as if he would melt into the shadows and escape. She didn’t expect sheer defeat to paint his face, unhidden behind his usual mask of indifference. Her thumb froze.

Miles Morales had Y/n entranced. He’d woven himself into her being, hollowed out a space in her soul just for him. Those titanium claws were in deep and she didn’t know if she had the strength to pry them out or wanted to.

Y/n pocketed her phone. She resigned to every emotion she harbored for the boy in front of her. She chose every wrong decision. “Go, Miles.”

His grin was smug. “Should I call you?”

“Don’t push it, Morales.” He draped his arms around her shoulders, dragged her into his warmth. “I’ll unblock you. Sound good?”

Miles angled his head. His smile stretched to his eyes, showing those rarely seen dimples. “Sí, mami. Whatever you want.”

[candylix]

one little lie | hyung line (part 2)

Pairing • FWB!Minho x Fem!Reader x Hyung Line

A/N • This is part 2! You can see the series masterlist here.

Summary • The boys have one rule in their shared apartment. Don't bring girls over for sex. So when Chan, Hyunjin, and Changbin walk in on Minho fucking the living daylights out of you in the living room, he has to lie to save his own skin. His excuse? That's not a girl under him... you're a sex robot. And now they all want to try you out.

Genre • smut, sci-fi ish? (sex robots are a thing in this world that people know about and use)

WC • 3.1k

Content • reader pretends to be a sex robot, free use, dubcon, groping, nipple play, boob sex, orgasm denial, edging, riding, daddy kink, threesome, tiny bit of overstim, Minho discovers he's really into watching you get fucked by other people.

Minho walks you out of the bathroom, and you head to Hyunjin's room. You're walking through his apartment naked, about to be handed off to his roommate for sex, and somehow you're more okay with it than you were earlier. Minho knocks on Hyunjin's bedroom door, and when it swings open to reveal a gorgeous man wearing only his boxers, you can feel you core start to throb in anticipation.

"Thank you for the delivery," Hyunjin says. He grabs your shoulders to pull you towards him, but Minho doesn't let go.

"Be careful with her, she's still sensitive after Changbin."

Hyunjin pauses at that statement.

"How can she be sensitive, she's a robot," he asks, and Minho tuts at him.

"I told you, she's very realistic. I couldn't even clean her up without her twitching every time I touched her."

Literally not true, but you couldn't complain out loud.

"I promise I'll be gentle. Happy?" he says, and Minho rolls his eyes.

He pulls your body towards him, and Minho reluctantly gives you away to him. He buries your face in his chest, wrapping his arms around your torso, and drags you away to his bed. Hyunjin looks back to his door, where Minho is still waiting.

"Are you planning on standing there? Close the door."

"Oh, right," he says, and hits his hand on the door frame before grabbing the handle to close the door.

His bed is in the corner of the room, and he props you up against a wall. You sit on his bed in front of him, and he admires your body.

"This is so fucking realistic, holy shit."

He spreads your legs, and takes a seat between them. His eyes are glued to your chest. He takes your boobs in his hands, weighing them, and then bouncing them. He plays with your tits, squeezing, pulling, pushing them together, pinching your nipples, exploring everything he can do with them. He's like a kid in a candy shop, if the kid was a grown man and the candy was your boobs.

Finally, he brings his mouth to one of your nipples, and you feel his tongue lick circles around it and over it until it's erect. He lightly bites it, and you yelp.

"Oh, that gets you vocal, huh? Interesting."

He goes back to teasing your nipple, licking and nipping, experimenting with what else causes you to make noise. He fondles one of your boobs with his hand while sucking on the opposite nipple, and he finally gets you to let out a quiet moan. Satisfied with himself, he turns to move.

He hops off the bed, and as he pulls down his boxers, you get a full view of his dick. It's not as thick as Changbin's, but it's long. You can feel yourself leaking from the sight of it.

He steps back to the bed, and lays you flat on your back. He climbs on top of you, straddling your waist, and lies down on top of you, burying his face into your chest. His long dick presses against your core, throbbing against you as he gropes your breasts. You whimper at the contact. You want nothing more than for him to start already. You can feel him stiffen up as he fondles you, and his body starts mindlessly rocking. His dick drag itself over your pussy as he rocks, and he pinches your nipples, earning another yelp from you.

He suddenly stops, and grabs your wrists. He lifts your arms up to your chest, and places your hands on your boobs to push them together. He lets go of you, and when your hands stay where they are, he smiles.

"Whoa, that worked."

He snuggles into your tits for a while, feeling how soft you were under him. When he's done, he moves his body, and you feel his dick slide away from your pussy. He straddles your stomach, and positions his cock between your tits. He slides it in, and you feel how hard he is already. Your boobs wrap around his dick, and it throbs inside your soft mounds. He hovers over you, with his arms on either side of your head as he holds himself up.

With a steady roll of his hips, he moans softly as he thrusts his long cock into you, the tip poking out the other side before getting sucked back in. He slowly rocks into you, feeling the way his stiff cock drags against your plush flesh. He wants to feel every inch of himself between your boobs, and he watches as they jiggle with every thrust.

His arousal grows at the sight, and he groans as he rocks into you faster. You press your boobs together harder, fully enveloping his dick and overwhelming his senses with the increased pressure.

"Fuck," he moans, and bucks into you desperately.

Your entire body rocks under him as he fucks your tits faster, humping your chest with all his energy. The movement of your body under him and his loud moans has your core pulsing intensely, and you want nothing more than to have him thrusting inside your pussy. You can't even touch yourself with him on top of you like this, with your hands busy holding together your boobs while he fucks them. The entire bed rocks with him, creaking louder with every thrust.

A string of 'fuck, fuck, fuck' escapes his lips each time his dick buries itself into your tits, getting louder as the feeling builds.

Your boobs push and pull against you, bouncing in rhythm with his hard cock as it grinds against your chest. He moans louder as he feels his orgasm coming, and he increases the speed of his humping, which only shakes your boobs harder. A groan slips out of you at the sensation, and the sound takes him over the edge.

With a loud moan, his cum splatters across your chest and onto your neck as he reaches his climax. The creaks of the bed get quieter as he slows down, and his rocking gets softer and softer as he rides out his high. He finally finishes, and he pulls out his dick from between your breasts.

He doesn't pull your hands away, though, and lays down on top of you, his face buried in your chest. His thigh sits in between your legs, pressing against your bare cunt. You want to hump into him, feel anything to relieve yourself. You're wet, pulsing, and can't do anything about it.

Finally, he rolls off of you, panting in exhaustion.

"Shit, I forgot to set my name," he says, and you desperately wish he remembered so he could stuff his long cock into you. "Next time."

You don't want him to do it next time, you want him to do it now.

But you can't tell him that, and can't touch yourself, so you're left entirely at the whims of the man breathing heavily beside you.

"God," he says, in between breaths, "that was fun." His hand is back on your boob, kneading it softly. "I can't give you back to Jisung."

He fondles you, rubbing your nipple with his index finger. You're so sensitive that the slightest touch makes you whimper, which only makes him want to touch it more. After a few excruciating minutes of Hyunjin unknowingly edging you, you hear hard knocking at his door.

"Hyunjin, give her back!" Minho yells.

"No!" Hyunjin yells back, and Minho barges into the room. He sees Hyunjin, naked and playing with your boob, and he feels the same way as when he saw you leaking on Changbin's bed— arousal. And he has no idea why. Hyunjin quickly sits up to cover himself with a pillow, and you're finally released from his grasp.

"You can't just come in here!" Hyunjin says, but Minho ignores him, and walks over to the bed. He looks to the cum stain on your chest, and it's hard not to notice his bulge growing.

"Yes I can. You didn't even lock the door," he says, ignoring the throbbing in his pants.

He pulls you up off the bed, and Hyunjin just huffs in disappointment, but doesn't stop Minho from taking you away. You walk back to the bathroom, which has now become your refuge, and the only place you can actually talk. Minho is already wiping your neck before you can even sit down.

"Two down, one to go. How're you feeling? Was he gentle?"

Hyunjin didn't touch your aching core, so you were feeling extremely needy and not entirely of sound mind.

"Worse than gentle. If I don't get something in me right now, I might explode," you say. You don't even care how insane you sound at this point.

You reach for the zipper of Minho's pants and pull it down, but he grabs your wrists before you can go any further.

"Whoa, slow down. Save that for Chan."

"Minho, please," you whine. He's still holding you, so you can't even touch yourself to relieve the ache.

"Wait just a little bit longer."

You pout at his command, but comply. You resist the growing urge to hump his leg. He holds both your wrists in one hand, while the other wipes the rest of the cum off your collarbone and chest. He takes his time with it, and you think he's going intentionally slow just to mess with you.

"See, that wasn't so bad, right?" he says, finally finished cleaning you up. "Now we can go see Chan."

He opens the door, and walks you back to the living room where Chan is waiting. Neither Changbin nor Hyunjin are there, so you assume they're still recovering in their rooms.

Chan stands up when he sees you walk in.

"I'll help you bring her to my room," he says, and he and Minho take you to your last destination.

"Where are we putting her?" Minho asks, and Chan hesitates.

"Actually... do you know if she can... ride people?" he says bashfully.

Minho looks at you, but you give no visible response. Not that you'd be able to.

"I don't know... probably not. She'd need help moving on you."

"Oh..." Chan says, looking defeated. "I guess we can just put her on my bed."

"Wait-" Minho interjects. His mouth is faster than his brain. "I could help you."

"What?"

"Like... with having her ride you. I can help."

Chan's face goes red.

"But that would mean having you watch me."

"That's not a big deal, right? Just bros helping bros. You want her to ride you, and I'll get her to do it."

Chan stares at him for a moment, debating in his mind if he wants this or not.

"Ok," he finally responds, "just bros helping bros."

Chan sits down on his office chair, and slides off his sweatpants and briefs. Minho moves you in front of him while Chan jerks himself off, just enough to get hard. His dick is big and leaking precum, and you're excited to have it inside you. You'd be excited to have anything inside you at this moment, but Chan looks tantalizing, sitting there with his hard cock out, just for you. He holds up his dick, waiting for you to sit on him.

"Remember to set your name when you're inside her," Minho reminds him.

"Right."

He lowers you down onto Chan, and you're finally about to get some relief. You're still extremely wet from your last encounter, so you slide onto him easily. He groans at the overflowing juices surrounding his cock, and how easily he's able to get himself inside you. He quickly fills you up, and he hits a sensitive bundle of nerves. You want to bounce on him, feel him hit that spot again and again, but you know you aren't allowed to move until Minho moves you. It's agonizing.

"Daddy," Chan says, surprising you and Minho both.

"Daddy," you moan, and you feel his dick throb at the sound of your voice.

"Daddy?" Minho asks. "I didn't know you were into that."

"Are you here to assist or make commentary?" Chan says, annoyed at his interruption.

"Sorry," Minho says, and stops talking.

Chan lifts up your arms, placing your hands on his shoulders, and lays his own on the armrests of his chair. Minho grabs your ass, and lifts you slightly. You feel Chan's cock slipping out of you, and you clench at the slow loss of contact, making Chan groan. Then Minho drops you back on his lap, and his dick spears your sensitive spot, causing you to moan loudly. You're finally getting the relief you've been whining about. Minho picks you up again, lifting you up and down on Chan's cock, and Chan's knuckles turn white as he grips the armrests.

You have no control over the pace of your bouncing, relying on Minho to lift you up and lower you down. But he does a good job, and every time Chan fills you up, your impending orgasm comes closer.

"Faster," Chan moans, and Minho picks up speed. He slides you down faster on Chan's dick, and it hits the right spot particularly hard.

"Daddy," you moan, and Chan's head goes back. He rolls his hips into you, increasing the impact against your pussy. His dick forces his way into you, and he's thick enough to rub against all of your walls as he penetrates you harder and harder. You can't help but to buck your hips into him, lifting yourself up and into him.

Minho doesn't have to do much now, you're moving all on your own, and Chan is too fucked out to notice, but he keeps his hands on your ass to sell it anyway. He leans his hips closer to you, and you feel his dick press against your ass as you bounce on Chan. You rub into him, and Minho moans against the friction.

You're very close now. You yell out 'daddy' with every thrust he makes into you, and Chan is a moaning mess on the chair. He can barely keep his eyes open anymore. The pleasure takes over his mind, and he bucks into you faster, completely uncoordinated with the pace of your bouncing. His thrusts penetrate you at erratic intervals, causing you to moan louder every time his cock buries itself fully in you. You can't think straight anymore, all you can do is submit to the feeling and yell out 'daddy' over and over again.

The only one still functioning is Minho, who's extremely turned on watching you fuck yourself on Chan's massive cock. He wished he could see the expression on your face every time Chan's dick rams into you, but hearing you loudly moaning is enough to know you're loving it. He's still grinding himself against your ass, and he can feel his own orgasm coming. But he knows if he cums now, he wont be able to hold you up and watch you cum on Chan's lap, so he stands back away from you. His dick throbs in his pants, but he knows he'll relieve himself later.

Chan continues bucking into you at an erratic pace, and every time his dick bottoms you out, you moan louder. You can feel your orgasm coming, and with one last thrust into your g-spot, you reach your climax.

"Daddy," you moan, clenching your walls against him, and a wave of liquid flushes out of you, drenching his cock with your cum.

"Oh my god," he moans out, feeling your juices spurt out of your pussy and onto his body. He grabs your hips, and rams into you harder, not letting you have a moment of rest as you come down from your high. His pace is unrelenting, and you spasm on his body as he thrusts into you. You hold onto his shoulder, trying to keep yourself up. He doesn't stop, and Minho helps him bounce you faster on his throbbing cock. The feeling overwhelms you, and you can't control your moans as he slams his dick into your sensitive cunt.

His own climax finally comes, and white hot liquid fills your pussy as he finally slows down. Minho's gently lowers you down, holding your ass as he hovers you over Chan's lap. Chan keeps humping into you, thrusts getting weaker as he rides out his high. Finally, he stops, and Minho lowers you down completely on him. Chan bottoms you out, but you're both too tired to do anything more. Chan leans back on his chair, and you lean back onto Minho.

"Fuck," is all Chan manages to say.

Minho begins to lift you up, and the movement of Chan's dick slipping out of you causes you to twitch, while Chan groans. He lifts you up completely, and your legs feel like jelly. Luckily, Minho is there to keep you standing.

He helps you walk, using considerably more effort than before. Before you leave, Chan calls out to him.

"Thanks... that was amazing."

Minho gives him an awkward thumbs up, and you both leave the room.

You collapse onto the toilet seat when you arrive at the bathroom.

"I'm gonna go get your clothes. You... catch your breath."

You can only nod in response, too tired to speak, and he leaves you there.

You can feel your mind clear, and your pussy leak with Chan's cum.

It's done. Minho's roommates have all fucked you, used you the way they wanted. Jisung would be here soon, and you could finally leave this all behind. You no longer had to pretend to be a sex robot.

So why did you feel disappointed?

The door opens, and Minho has your clothes in hand, and a visible erection in his pants.

You snicker at him.

"I didn't know you were into cucking, Minho."

"What? No I'm not."

"You literally volunteered to help Chan fuck me."

His cheeks go red, and he can't look you in the eye.

"W-well, you seemed to like having them fuck you like a sex doll."

"I was just acting," you say, and this time it's your turn to blush at his accusation.

"Was it acting when you were screaming Changbin's name? Or when you were moaning daddy, daddy-"

"Ok! Stop!" you say, waving your arms to get him to stop talking. "We both discovered something about ourselves today."

"I guess we did," he responds, and places your clothes on the counter. He uses a fresh towel to wipe you down, and you get dressed.

"Jisung should be here any second," Minho says.

One last time, he opens the bathroom door, and walks you out.

read part 3 here

taglist:

@loeyscock @0325tiny @5starlee @miupow @mapofthemazeinthemirror @sadrosessing @luminouskalopsia @minghaosimp @curiousgworge @azuna-sz @piscesrising01 @g-bbzz @extrhotjne @nabi-tokoshi @weareapackofstrays

[softmangoes]

how the LIs kiss

18+

pure!sydney's kisses are sweet, mouth soft and his tongue warm. he kisses you in the same way he savors the hard candies you'd slide over the library counter, slipping them into his hands just so your fingers could brush. when he pulls away, his glasses are foggy, a nervous smile on his face. "was that..." he says, blushing. "was that alright?"

corrupt!sydney's kisses are hungry. he's got his hands under your shirt and his tongue deep in your mouth. he's been waiting so patiently, after all, and now he finally has you to himself. "you taste divine, beloved." he says, fingers slipping under your waistband. when you sigh against his mouth, he smiles. "but i think it's time i have my dessert."

whitney's kisses hurt. they're full of teeth and bruises and blood and his nails digging crescents into your skin. whenever he crushes his lips to yours, he always makes sure to leave you aching. and like every fight you've had against him, you never come out unscathed. "there," he says, marveling at the fresh marks blooming along your neck. "now everyone will know whose slut you are."

kylar's kisses are desperate. his hands roam your skin as his mouth murmurs endless promises into the hollow of your neck. "we'll be together forever," he says, drunk on the scent of you. he presses his body to yours, eager to get closer, to envelope you in his embrace. to never, ever, let you go. "nothing will ever change that."

eden wastes no time when he kisses you. he has known the lean months of winter and the lonely days of fall. you cannot deny him the sweetness of spring. he bites into the curve of your neck like the first fruit of warmer days, licks at your lips to drink in your sweetness. but a hunter is always hungry, always wanting. "it's been a long day," he growls, deepening the kiss. when he takes your shirt in his hands, the fabric rips apart easily. "too long without you."

robin's kisses are warm. they're fingers running through your hair, a smile against your mouth. sunny days and lips that taste like fresh lemonade. he always laughs when he kisses you, like he can't believe he's doing this. like he can't believe he's yours. when he kisses you, the world is a little brighter. softer. "it's a beautiful day to be with you," he murmurs after he pulls away, pressing a peck to your cheek before taking your hand in his.

there is no way you can truly describe how the ivory wraith kisses you, but there is a note of familiarity to it. your mind conjures memories of kisses whispered in passing, of lips locked in darkened halls. "as sweet as ever," he hums, licking your lips with his cool tongue. "as sweet as always." the passing of centuries have done little else but make him yearn. the wraith, with his great and terrible beauty, kisses you like he's been waiting for you all this time.

[yncoreee]

STUPID IN LOVE. Eunchae x reader

Synopsis— were you just dense and oblivious or was she just not putting effort? Does she have romantic feelings for you??? She just doesn’t know.

Warnings .ᐟ Requested, 6th member reader, reader is the same age so you can imagine her older or younger by months, oblivious y/n and obvious eunchae, eunchae is down bad, tinsy tiny bit rushed, kissing, one curse word, Shinez to the rescue!

꩜ — ⵌWord count 1456

During a live she watched as you sorted your candies by color admiring your features, the smile that never left your face.

She didn’t even notice herself grinding as she admires you. “Manchae you’re staring” yunjin whispered into eunchae’s ear getting her out of her trance.

Eunchae smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’m not staring, I was just zoning out” she lied looking away, not wanting to look at the teasing look on Yunjin’s face.

“Zoning out? More like admiring y/n” yunjin mocked lightly pinching eunchae’s cheeks. “Get your hands off me!” Eunchae muttered, slapping away Yunjin’s hand.

“Not eunchae staring at y/n loving ㅋㅋㅋ my euny/n heart?” Kazuha read out the comment with furrowed eyebrows turning her head to the back. She looked over only to see a blushing eunchae.”she’s…..smiling ... .un-uncontrollably?” You read out in English with the same exact expression as kazuha. “Yunjin-Unnie what does that mean?” You asked, completely bewildered.

“It’s nothing too serious, they just said she has a really really bright smile when she smiles” Yunjin explained.

You raised an eyebrow at her explanation. “But doesn’t that sound longer than the original comment?” You questioned.

Yunjin realized and immediately shut you up. “You’re not the one who knows English” she hurriedly replied, looking away from you.

You pouted slightly, shrugging it off and returned to sorting out your candies while kazuha read the comments.

Another time was when she carefully watched as you studied for exams.

She felt as if she was in complete daze.

“Hey eunchae chaewon Unnie said to call you for—“ Yunjin cut herself off as soon as she peeped her head into the room and caught Eunchae being completely taken away by just your face alone.

“But she’s just too pretty,” eunchae muttered quietly, not taking her eyes off you.

“Earth to eunchae!” You called out for her constantly waving your hand in front of her, finally getting her out of her trance.

She smiled awkwardly giving you a small smile with a thumbs up.

“You’re so in love~” Yunjin cooed, teasing eunchae. “Shhh” eunchae placed her index finger against her lips, glaring at yunjin.

“Come on chaewon Unnie said dinners ready” yunjin announced leaving the two of you alone in the room.

Eunchae opened and closed her mouth to say something but just couldn’t bring herself to say. Finally she was able to say something. “Hey umm y/n can we talk after dinner?” She asked her tone soft and gentle.

You were a bit shocked as to why she wanted to suddenly have a talk but decided not to ask questions and just nodded your head.

—

“Unnie I need your helpppp” eunchae whined barging into Yunjin’s room. Yunjin’s head immediately jolted up from her pillow.

She rubbed her eyes trying to regain her composure. Her hand found its way and reached for her black glasses. “What do you need help with? Homework?” She asked, squinting her eyes at eunchae.

Eunchae gave her a what the fuck. “Not homework, romantic advice” eunchae blurted out.

“Romantic advice eh? And who do you need this advice for hm?” She asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

Eunchae scoffed like it was the most obvious thing ever. “You already know” she muttered, looking away from yunjin. “But I’m not sure I know” Yunjin pouted, clinging onto Eunchae's arm.

Eunchae shrugged her off. “Fine…..it’s y/n… happy I finally said it??” She admitted glaring at yunjin.

“So happy!” Yunjin clapped both of her hands together before dragging Eunchae to her bed, sitting her down at the edge. “So what’d you need help with?”

“I want to confess” Eunchae whispered, making eye contact with the ground. She could feel her cheeks heat up.

“Confess that’s all? Why don’t you just go up to her and say ‘hey y/n I have something to tell you! I like you?’” Yunjin questioned as if it was that easy.

“I’m super shy, you know! And who said it’s that easy?!” Eunchae sighed leaning down to rest on Yunjin’s bed, staring into the blue.

“Super shy~ super shy~ but wait a minute till you make her yours” yunjin sang cheerfully.

“Hey! I expect you to be giving me advice not teasing me?!”

“Alright alright I’ll tell you what to do now” yunjin said now in a serious tone, eunchae leaned forward waiting with anticipation for what she had to say.

“So what you’re doing to do is—“

—

“Hey chae! You said you wanted to talk about something” you said sitting next to her.

“Yeah…..” “well I wanted to ask if you’re busy tomorrow?” She asked, tilting her head to the side.

“Hmm” you thought for a while. “Yep! I’m certainly free!” You smiled at her. Eunchae wanted to rejoice right there. On the spot but refrained herself from doing so.

“That’s good to hear…uhh wanna go out with me tomorrow ... .as in something like a date but I’m not really sure” she immediately added with an apologetic look. She wasn’t sure of what you thought of “a date”

“Huh? I don’t mind a date…but whatever I’m fine with whatever you want”

She let out a breath of relief. “Good so we’ll see tomorrow? By 4:00pm. Is that fine with you?” She gave you a thumbs up.

You nodded.

—

“Unnieeee!!! Should I wear this or that?” You wailed, barging into kazuha’s room, dumping a pile of clothes on her bed.

Kazuha raised her eyebrows with widened eyes. “Are you going somewhere important? Why all these clothes. And I thought you don’t usually have problems with picking clothes.” She questioned looking at the clothes one by one.

“Eunchae said she’s going to take me on a-maybe-date today” you returned placing clothes on your body. “Does this go?”

“Hmmm no don’t wear trousers wear skirt” she advised.

After a few minutes of searching for the perfect match you finally found the perfect fit. “This will make her stare at you all day” Kazuha proudly spoke.

—

“Oh y/n you’re ready!” Eunchae asked as soon as she saw you step out of the dorm. “By the way you look so pretty” she complimented with a light blush.

“Thanks and so do you!” You smiled softly at her.

“Shall we?” She asked, reaching out her hand for you to hold. You gently placed your hand into hers. Interlocking fingers with her.

Although she was a bit hesitant about it, she just didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.

The car finally stopped in front of the acquarium. Eunchae stepped out of the door waiting for you to follow suit.

As soon as you stepped out she couldn’t help but stare at you again. With a skeptical look she held onto your pinky finger.

You couldn’t help but be in awe looking at every aquatic animal. “Ooo jelly!” You exclaimed happily running over to the tank with jelly fish.

“Cuteee” eunchae chuckled. “Y/n let me take a picture of you!” She suggested bringing out her camera.

You turned to the jelly fish tank admiring it while eunchae took pictures.

Time flew by fast. It was already night time, you and eunchae waited at a park for your ride home.

You admired the stars while eunchae admired your face. “Y/n can I tell you somthing?…”

You whipped your head lookinh at her, turning your whole body to face her. “Sure why not, tell me anything”.

She hesitated before speaking up. “…..what if I told you I liked you…. Like not in a friendly way. I like you more than a friend?” She indirectly confessed.

You breath hitched at her sudden question. Your breath started to become quicker and quicker. “I-… do you?” You asked, staring into her eyes.

She blushed a bit. “Yeah……yes I do” she confessed, looking down. her face turning bright pink. A warm sensation in her chest.

She felt a finger placed under chin lifting her head up. She stared into Your [E/C] eyes. “I like you back too….for a while now….I just wasn’t sure if they were genuine feelings” you confessed.

She wrapped her arms around your waist as she pulled you closer. Goosebumps swarming all over your body.

You felt her hot breath on your face as she leaned closer.

She squished your face in between her palms, her lips finally crashing onto yours. It was gently and delicate.

You both finally pulled away, panting for breaths. “Kiss me every time!” She giggled at your statement.

A loud gasp was heard behind you. Feeling a bit petrified both of you slowly turned around only to see a shocked leader. “You both have lots of explaining to do when we get home!” Chaewon demanded.

[wmnwntmefshfrme]

I FINISHED THEM. I DID IT. WOOHOO (crying)

design notes:

Yaira: nothing changed

Estrella: dead mom ponytail gone </3 i only did it in the og drawing of her bc its funny

Robin: ROBINNNN. IM SO SORRY I FORGOT THE PUFF BUNS UUEHEHHHHH- anyway, when i was planning out the designs for the other named npcs, i was like "why the hell are there so many gingers" so i made her have blue hair :3 to match with her confidence stat :3 also gave her yellow/orange eyes instead of green bc there were also a lot of green eyed npcs

Sydney: SKUNK HAIR. I DUNNO HOW I FORGOT ABOUT THAT YUMMY DYE STYLE. SYDNEY IM SORRY. i completely forgot i wanted to still have her natural hair (also just made pink bc teehee i like whimsy) to show

Whitney: not much changed besides the hair style. completely forgot i wanted her to be super gyaru OTL. gave her cheek piercings bc they're cute :3

Kylar: i lowkey started to not like how i did her hair originally and then came across all the sketches i made for the LIs and was like FLUFFY KY :3 ofc had to keep the emo bangs :3

Avery: nothing changed LMAOAOA

Great Hawk: FEATHER HAIR. I FORGOT I MADE A SKETCH FOR FEATHER-LIKE HAIR FOR HER. IM MAD AT MYSELF.

Black Wolf: not much changed, just made her hair longer bc why not

Alex: not much changed, just made he hair more of a red red, darkened her skin, altered her bangs, and changed the color of her bandana. still wanted to keep her looking like a cutie patootie

Eden: I ACCIDENTALLY GAVE HER A GIANT FOREHEAD THE FIRST TIME AND I DIDN'T MEAN TO SOBBING. not much changed though, just made her hair darker and have a green tint to it. look im trying to make my designs have lots of whimsy

Quinn: you can tell with Quinn LMAO. i just felt like she needed to have a distinct look since she's a special npc n all :3 classic purple and green color scheme for a shady character

Bailey: i'm gonna be honest, i was originally gonna go with a mean asian mom look for Bailey but then i was like "....what if muscle mommy"

Remy: i wanted her to look like a little shit. that's all

Briar: tried to go for a bit of a Jessica Rabbit and Rarity type aura. i really like her design and she could put me in the underground brothel any day :3 /j

Leighton: just an old hag, nothing special

Harper: wanted to make her look a little inhuman??? i think i got it with how dead her skin looks idk. also wanted her to look like a little shit

Landry: here's where the asian mom look went. i like her and Mickey's dynamic and they both just look like regular people (better for crime)

Sirris: Sydney if she was older. idk what else i should've done lol

River: old lady :3 hot old lady :3c (pt 1)

Doren: i wanted her hair to look fluffy as hell

Winter: old lady :3 hot old lady :3c (pt 2)

Mason: SEAWEED HAIR. that's all

Charlie: wanted to embody :3c

Darryl: she's very cutie patootie to me so i made her a cute patootie

Sam: wanted her to look like candy kinda. idk :3

Niki: i only made her hair a little longer and no weird two layer thing for the short portion

Zephyr: wanted her to look smug and also kinda cute???? idk, i didn't really have a vision for her

Jordan: also didn't really have a vision for her, but it did want her to gave similar eyes to Quinn

Gwylan: her i did have a vision for :3c she's a cutie patootie, that's all :3

Wren: thought a side shave would make her look cooler

Mickey: hairstyle changed a little. other than that, not much changed

Morgan: still a wet rat

Ivory Wraith: nothing changed (they have special eyes tho)

[praisetheaxolotl]

The Arsonist Theory, Part 1: Mandibles!

Eight years ago, a few weeks shy of the day itself, I wrote something called The Arsonist Theory. It was my last theory post before making this blog, and looking back, it was disorganized, and I could have presented it better.

So, with new evidence, I'm doing just that.

The core of the theory is this: You don't blame the arson itself for a fire. You blame the arsonist that set the fire in the first place. There is a secret third piece of the puzzle here- not the act of arson, not the fire itself, but something more.

Therefore, consider this: Bill was not the sole perpetrator of the Euclidean Massacre. Rather, he was a weapon used to commit it.

Like the original, this will be a four-part theory, just to make it more digestible. I'll refer back to the original on occasion, but most of it will be new information.

Oh, and-

MAJOR, MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE BOOK OF BILL UNDER THE CUT. THIS INCLUDES THE TEXT ITSELF AND SOLUTIONS TO CIPHERS.

With that out of the way, let's go.

In another post, I mentioned that the specific wording of "Saw his own dimension burn" having a very passive connotation to it, plus parts of the glitched page, shown here- make it incredibly likely, if not certain, that the massacre was an accident on Bill's part.

Bill's main intention was to show everyone what he had seen all along-- show them that he wasn't crazy. But that's not what happened.

Also, just as an aside- part three of the original theory has some examples of exact wording being a thing to pay attention to in matters surrounding Bill. It mostly concerns his deals with others, but in a Doylist sense, it tells us: exact wording is important with this character, so pay attention.

But let's put a pin in that for a second.

On the page teaching us how to trick everyone into loving us, there's a portion about conversation topics:

The cipher in the candy heart says "LIES," by the way, and it's the only cipher on the page- immediately setting this portion apart from all the others. Bill says here that one conversation topic on a date-- while meeting someone-- is the very specific term, "mandibles."

Say, where have I seen that recently?

Huh... that's interesting! What a specific word to come up twice, in these specific contexts! Remember what I said about exact wording? Sure you do, you have a very good memory, I admire that about you!

But that's not everything I noticed.

All that glitching? You can actually see text peeking out at certain points. And what does that text say?

"Nice to meet ya!"

Over and over and over again.

There's nothing else in my mind that can make this make sense to me. There was someone else there. He met up with someone.

But that's not all- I still have three more posts of evidence to write.

Check back here for links to them- they should all come out within the next day or two, and I'm gunning for all of it to be out before the countdown on thisisnotawebsitedotcom hits zero.

Part 2: We get it, the billboard is a metaphor

Part 3: Journey To The Vicious Spiral Nebula

Part 4: Blame The Arson, Not The Fire

[iiwaijime]

STFU — K. KOZUME

cws; swearing, writing lowkey gives stephen king at one point because i read like four novels in a row while writing this, misunderstandings, gn!reader i think

wc; 1667

"kenma."

he groaned.

"kenma."

"mm." his eyes fluttered open, and he was met with the — extremely fetching — sight of you hovering over him. you looked beautiful, as usual, even though you'd just woken up, and he cracked a small, sleepy smile. okay, he'd seen you. time to go back to sleep. but as soon as he closed his eyes, you poked his cheek to wake him up again.

"y/n, what the hell..."

"you have to wake up, you have practice!"

"fuck practice," he whined, burying his face in his pillow. the awesomest. sleepover of his entire life could not be ending like this. he heard you giggling behind him and groaned again. "i just wanna sleep!" he stopped talking, preparing to doze off again.

"is it too late to join a different club?"

"no," you told him forcefully. "and you're my best friend, so i'd love to let you sleep, but i can't exactly tell kuroo or the coach that, can i?"

and you're my best friend and i'm in love with you, but i can't exactly tell you that either, so we don't always get what we want, do we? he thought drowsily. or he thought he did, anyways, because the next thing he heard was your gasp — maybe a bit too loud, but it was there all the same, and shit, he must've said it out loud.

"what was that?" you asked him, and for a second he panicked.

kenma had never really been a fan of volleyball. it's nothing he hated, but he was sure he'd be perfectly fine without it too. and it was tiring. but he had learnt one thing from it — or maybe he'd known it all along, and it just helped him improve — and that one thing just happened to be bluffing. so he rolled over to stare at you blankly. "huh? I didn't say anything."

"okay," you said, but you weren't really sure he was telling the truth. sometime after you walked him to practice, he started avoiding you, and then you had to accept that yeah, he'd lied.

how could he accidentally confess his love to someone while half asleep? kenma had no idea; furthermore, he was haunted by the fear of other people finding out what he'd kept carefully hidden for over half a decade. he remembered being twelve and kuroo grinning at him so all-knowingly at him. i know what you are, he'd said. not aloud, but kenma had heard it clear as day, just as he noticed how kuroo's canines were glinting unnaturally in the sunlight, and seconds before getting hit squarely in the face with a volleyball because he'd looked away to stare at you. it had totally been worth it, though, he decided, when you came over to his house with a bag of candy and some cold soda.

he was struck with the sudden realisation that he's holding the exact same soda — completely identical, down to the flavour and the size of the bottle — in one hand as his fingers slowly grew numb from the cold when he saw you again, talking to kuroo as the two of you approached him. he was acutely aware of the condensation dripping down his fingers when kuroo yelled out to him, and he waved at the two of nervously with his free hand, trying to gauge your reaction. you waved back, and he was filled with a swirl of emotions, including but definitely not limited to relief.

you didn't find it suspicious when kuroo "had to go" somewhere barely two minutes into your conversations, but kenma did. said suspicions were further confirmed when kuroo — after making sure your back was turned — grinned at him wolfishly and mouthed "good luck" to him as he left.

almost immediately after kuroo disappeared, the atmosphere shifted before either of you even said anything. there was reproach in your gaze as you stared at him silently

(why are you ignoring me?)

there was an unspoken apology in his.

(i'm sorry so sorry i fucked up i didn't mean to this is all my fault)

drip

the two of you stood in silence.

drip

another drop of condensation hit the ground.

you glanced at your watch for the third time.

"do i... do you want me to walk you home?" he asked.

say no, you told yourself. give him the same treatment he gave you.

"yes," you said aloud. "i'd like that."

you had never been able to say no to him, after all.

the walk back to your house was warm and sticky, a textbook summer day if there ever was one. kenma had been looking forward to his stupid drink, but your reddened cheeks and the way your hair clung to your sweaty forehead made him pity you enough to wrench the cap off and hold the bottle out to you. you drank gratefully, and it appeared that you'd cooled down a bit afterwards. alongside your body temperature, the simmering tension between the two of you also went down considerably.

"kenma, will you come in for a bit?" you asked at your door, fingers still wrapped around the neck of the half-empty soda bottle. you weren't sure why you asked, exactly, but you did want to talk things out — losing kenma like this wasn't something you wanted in any way, and you'd lose kuroo by proxy too, resulting in you having a total of zero best friends.

"sure," he replied. to anyone else, his voice would've sounded the same as usual — monotonous, a little bored — but you knew better. he was nervous. for a moment, that made you happy in a weird, twisted sort of way.

he sat cross-legged on your bedroom floor, eyes glued to the switch in his hands as he played. however, today his attention was on you, instead, mind subconsciously following you around your room. hearing you shuffle into the bathroom, he relaxed, but only a little. for some reason, he was sure that your silence was much more terrifying than whatever you were planning to say to him.

when you came out, you looked refreshed, calmer. you padded to your bed, now in your pjs and the terrible fluffy slippers that kenma always despised — until today. how could he ever have hated them, he wondered, when they were so indisputably you?

you forced him into the bathroom next (no sweaty people allowed in my room!) along with some of his clothes he'd left at yours before. it wasn't anything new. all three of you — you, kenma, kuroo — had each other's stuff scattered all around your rooms. the three of you had had a very equal relationship — or so you'd thought. until that fateful day almost a fortnight ago, when kenma had mumbled out an accidental love confession while trying to skip out on practice. surely it wasn't an actual confession, you thought. there was no way he could possibly like someone like you, right?

yeah. exactly. it was an accident, and he felt bad for leading you on so he avoided you. but how could he have known? there was no way that kuroo told him, was there? a new wave of panic washed over you, and you couldn't help but jump in surprise as kenma accidentally opened the bathroom door with an unnecessary amount of extra force and re-entered your room.

"kenma," you sighed with relief. "i got scared for a sec."

"who else would it be?" he asked, a small, slow smile creeping across his face.

"no— i don't know..." you trailed off. before you could say anything else, kenma decided to speak.

"i'm sorry," he said.

"whahuh?" the two words had caught you completely off guard. you hadn't been expecting him to say a specific thing, but you hadn't expected him to apologise either. he bristled uncomfortably under your surprised deer-in-headlights stare.

"i've been avoiding you," he tried next. it was true; you both knew it by now. how were you even supposed to respond? everything you thought of seemed wrong for the situation. instead, you decided to ask a question in return.

"why'd you say you were in love with me?"

kenma cringed at your question, as if it caused him to feel some sort of physical discomfort. "because? i am?"

it came out as more of a question than a statement, and only served to confuse you more. "what?"

and then the words finally registered into your brain, and your face creased into a little frown — an adorable one, too, kenma thought, but he had to remind himself to not get carried away right now. "no, that's impossible. who put you up to this, kuroo?"

a pained grimace crossed his face. "what? no. besides, kuro would never do that."

"then?" you demanded. no response. the two of you stayed silent, you sitting on your bed, and him at the other end of the room.

"um, i was twelve." kenma was the first to break the tensed silence, hating the sound of his own voice.

"when i first liked you, i guess," he added as an afterthought.

"no." you sat up straighter, eyes flicking to the calendar, where a date was circled in bright red marker. beside it, there was an extremely artistic rendition of what you could only guess to be a pudding, done by none other than kuroo. the marked date was kenma's eighteenth birthday. "that's—"

"a long time, i know," replied kenma resignedly. "kuro's told me enough, you don't have to make it worse."

"but i—"

"i know you don't reciprocate, and i'm not asking you to. all i want is for you to forget this ever—"

"kenma, shut the fuck up and let me speak!" you shrieked, tired of his delusional rambling. he flinched at the sound of your voice, but obeyed you all the same.

"i love you too, okay? so stop being stupid!"

kenma blinked in surprise. "huh?"

"didn't see that coming, did you?" you slid off your bed, grinning at him triumphantly.

i dont remember writing this or the process or anything at all. help :3 almost done with the screenshots for unreq lvrs org btw!!!!

[blueberryredbullwithlime]

+18. age gap but yuuji and megumi are like 20

yuuji likes megumi's mama.

she's long since divorced toji and she's beautiful -she lives further away from yuuji's house than toji does and megumi feels the need to apologize for the extended effort. but yuuji swears it's no big deal, "honestly i prefer your mom's house anyway!"

megumi shrugs it off as a kindhearted yuuji-ism, thinking nothing more on the matter.

he should've looked into it more. yuuji's insistence on helping around the house; carrying in groceries, dusting fan blades and hard to reach shelves, washing dishes after dinner, mowing the lawn and skimming the pool without a shirt. yuuji's apparent sudden restlessness in the middle of sleepovers, which always somehow mysteriously wound up with him in the kitchen with you. his doting mother.

"you're so pretty," yuuji swoons, "i always wondered how megumi looked dainty when his dad's..."

"a brute?" you suggest, "that guy's oafish, total rocks for brains!" yuuji finds the hissed insults funny, "you know, megumi would probably hate hearing you call him dainty."

"eh, he's gotta know what he looks like," he waves off the concern, then leaning forward on the table, arms crossed over one another, "but, i kinda have to ask... why'd you and his dad separate?"

"so blunt!" you gasp, shrugging soon after -something about sharing this with a boy no older than your son feels wrong, but yuuji's face is so round and trustworthy, sincerity dripping from every pore. you don't have many friends anymore, the ones you do have are tired of this same old rant, but just remembering your ex's sharp face, that lashing bastard tongue oozing lies- you cock a hip against the table, subtly rattling the two steaming tea cups you'd set out, "ugh, he wanted to trade in for a younger model, go figure! he's already greying but wants to prowl around college campuses for poor girls that don't know any better! i hope one of them cuts his eyes out when he breaks their heart. stupid gambling jerk, just wants eye candy when he's out on the tracks!"

"a younger model...?" yuuji mumbles, adjusting so to lean his cheek on his fist, "i didn't think he was that dumb."

"aw, you're a flatterer, huh?"

"no, really!" yuuji pushes up from the table, nearly knocking his cup over at the sudden movement, "you're amazing, if we got married i'd be on my knees every day to keep you around."

that declaration gives you pause. eyes widening and knees wiggling, "yuuji! you can't say that!"

"huh?! why not?" his tone is far, far from suave. eyebrows raised and palms splaying flat against the table, "what's so wrong with that? it's the truth."

"i'm over forty, yuuji..." you sigh, praying your disappointment is masked as exasperation. you're not even sure you should be trying to masquerade, this is yuuji!

he's your son's best friend. he's sweet. he's helpful. he's strong. he's half your age.

yuuji's eyes dart from your face, shining beneath the honeyglow oven light, down toward your pelvis, "what? does pussy retire or something?"

"woah!" you have half a mind to whack yuuji upside the head, "you definitely can't say that!"

"you're acting like being over forty is death," yuuji abandons the chair, circling the table until he's right in front of you, "i don't get that. megumi's dad, too. 'younger models' and stupid things i can't say. you're hot-blooded and breathing, aren't you?"

"yuuji..." your own gaze flicks upward, piercing through the ceiling to where your son sleeps, "you're megumi's best friend."

"so he'd be happy if i restored his mom's confidence, right?"

"i don't think..." you whisper, voice webbing off into a mere hum.

"i do," he counters.

yuuji draws his hand over your shoulder, the palm is clammy and his face is flushed: completely erradicating any mirage of calm. though when you don't push him away, he grows bolder. stepping further into your space and twitching into your shape, as if to push a thigh between your legs. a hand itching to cup your chest. lips urged against yours.

"hmm? the hell are you two doing down here?"

yuuji slips off as easily as he appeared, shouting, "planning your birthday!"

you shudder back against the table, both hands clutching the edge for support, "megumi! you're up!"

"woke up 'n' yuuji was gone..." he scratches through his wild hair, blinking at you two through a thick haze. examining your proximity, he narrows his lashes at you judgmentally, "what was he doing down here?"

"he said- "

you're cut off by yuuji launching back into megumi's side, slinging an arm around your son's shoulders, "we were planning something! for your birthday!"

megumi glares at his friend, eyes softening when he looks to you. he nods, "yeah, okay."

yuuji forcefully turns them both as you call up a sugary "goodnight, 'gumi!"

"'night, mom!"

yuuji coos, poking his friend's cheek, "what a softie."

"whatever," megumi shrugs the boy off, scoffing while leading them into his room -pausing just long enough to sock yuuji in the shoulder, "and stop trying to bang my mom, you fucking weirdo."

[luveline]

hi honey, i love you so so much!!

what about stripper!reader with derek morgan?? he's on a case where strippers are being murdered, and while hotch is driving morgan calls you and tells you not to go into work because of what's going on, and emily is listening in on the conversation from the backseat and they tease him

thank youu!! love you!

ty for requesting lovely!! ilysm ♡

"I know you don't like listening to me, but could you do me a favour? Just this once?" 

Emily leans over in her seat so Spencer can see her side eye. "Who's Morgan talking to?" 

"Stay home tonight. No, this isn't a jealousy thing, you vixen–" 

Spencer shrugs. "No idea. But–" 

"But," Emily agrees. They've just left a crime scene with a specific victim, and now Morgan's on the phone asking someone to stay home. That someone would have reason to visit said crime scene's location, and the word vixen suggests female rather than male, which means, "Morgan has a secret stripper girlfriend." 

Spencer's entire face takes his frown, eyebrows pinched, mouth quirked into a telling line. "I like the implausible," he murmurs, "but that feels illogical. Where would they have met?"

"Uh," Emily says, widening her eyes at him. "Where do you think, Spence?" 

"Morgan doesn't need to go to a strip club." 

Emily understands what Spencer's saying. There are lots of reasons that people frequent strip clubs or gentlemen's clubs and none of those reasons apply to Derek. It's possible he could go socially, but it's just so unlike him, it doesn't add up. 

"I'm telling you the truth. I can't give you more detail than that, I just need you to stay home tonight." Derek pauses, laughs. "Alright," —his voice takes on a mechanical rendition, clearly having been fed a line he has to repeat aloud— "I, Derek Morgan, am an ignorant, jealous man, who can't cope with the fact that you don't want me, and am making up sad and childish lies to get you to stay home from your job. Is that what you wanted? Yeah, laugh it up." 

Emily laughs and grabs the headrest as he hangs up on you, pulling herself forward to taunt him as is required. "Care to explain yourself?" 

Derek sighs. "This is why I didn't tell you guys." 

"What!" Spencer says, though his smile is more audible than his incredulity. 

"So you have something to tell us?" Emily asks. 

Derek knows he can't weasel his way out of telling them, and he doesn't really want to. "I don't have a secret stripper girlfriend," he says, rolling his eyes, "she's not my girlfriend. She is an exotic dancer at one of the clubs downtown, and I met her at Home Depot." 

Emily isn't perturbed that Derek heard their gossiping. She's shameless. She doesn't even care that Hotch is frowning behind the wheel. "What was an exotic dancer doing at Home Depot?"

"Weirdly, Emily, she has a home. She wanted help finding renter friendly flooring." 

"Can we meet her?" 

"Never," Derek says with a smile. Emily couldn't know this, but he really likes you. You're sweet, super funny, and yes, you're a stripper. You work hard. Pole dancing is as physically demanding as any manual labour and you're damn good at it. "Ever." 

Spencer interjects the ensuing argument with a statistical analysis of strippers who are homeowners (unfairly few), but Morgan doesn't answer, trying to read a new text from you discretely. 

Sorry if I embarrassed you at work :( is it really not safe to go ?? Maybe u can come and be my bodyguard. I won't even make u tip me 4:10PM

He sends back, Really not safe. Stay home for me, relax for a few days. Call you tonight even if nothing changes 4:11PM

My hero <3 I trust u, but be careful OK ? and pls if it isn't too much trouble can u bring back some of those weird candies again? thank u thank u <3<3<3 4:14PM

Hotch makes a quiet sound of approval, eyes on the road. "The same girl you were with at Docklands? Rossi said she was cute." 

"She is." 

"Rossi met her?" Emily asks. "Oh, you're the worst."