#and i just can’t be bothered with this acc at times

[iman-92]

in the mood to live my life to the fullest but in a way that doesn’t require me to actually leave my house

[strwberri-milk]

a/n: cue me listening to the same secret time over and over to put me in the right mindframe for this bc I don’t have either of the cards for the AB set for this goddamn FISH – im still learning about him/specifically abysswalker raf as well bc I know nothing outside this audio so there are indeed going to be some growing pains uwu im still learning his voice but im in love w him <3

Wrapped in Moonlight

AO3 || Rafayel x Fem!Reader || Soft Smut, Mild Angst || 3, 503 Words

additional tags: accidental mask kink, fingering, vaginal sex, first time having sex [w/ e/o], first kiss [w/ e/o], rafayels acc so in love with you, i like the moon and havent ever had to write a lot of water motifs before

The dull thrumming of his heartbeat in his ears has never been louder, not until this moment here, with you.

Your eyes look up at him from where you lay on your bed, teeth lightly worrying over your lips as you take a deep breath, shaking your head as though to shake away the words that had his feet planted firmly on the ground. You’d taken to summoning him more often as of late and even if he could, he would never reject your requests. Rafayel knew that it was dangerous but he couldn’t think to care, beginning to crave being by your side in ways that drove him mad.

“I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you. Please, just forget I even said anything,” you begin to plead, averting his gaze and retreating further into your lush sheets. Sheets he knows the feeling of, the barely there warmth that his fingertips longed to feel, his resolve cracking every time you sleepily ask him to stay until you fall asleep.

“Your Highness doesn’t think I’d really be able to forget such a request, does she?” he decides to say instead, wanting to lean into a slightly more playful side of his persona to cope with the swell of emotions crashing down into his chest.

You stay silent and he decides to take this opportunity to step closer. His gloved hand parts the beaded curtain, your breath catching in your chest as you see the way the candle’s light faintly illuminating his face. Rafayel’s eyes are intense, something you’ve always noticed when he looks at you. All thoughts begin to cease as soon as his eyes meet yours, leaning in closer to you.

“Did you really think that I’d forget that you asked me to kiss you?”

The words hang heavy between the two of you, an unnamed but not unnoticed tension sitting on your shoulders once again. It felt like the two of you were constantly doing some song and dance, skirting around the way you both felt about each other. He looks like he’s got something more to say, watching you intently before stepping away. The clicking of the curtains gives you something else to focus on as you try to still your erratic heartbeat, hearing him draw the curtains to your room open at the same time as him blowing out the candles.

He stands in your window for a moment, the moon’s light wrapping around him so intimately you can’t help but be jealous. You shift in your bed, unconsciously crawling towards him. The sound makes him turn to look at you, hues coloured with something you can’t quite understand. You think you’ll drown in the depths of them but you can’t be bothered to care. If it meant being able to touch him, even for just a moment then you’d be more than willing to suffer that consequence.

“Rafayel, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I just didn’t think before I spoke.”

And you couldn’t, not when he looked at you like he wanted to devour you or whenever he’d touch you gently to reassure you of his presence.

Silence and tension continue to colour the air between the two of you and you have a fleeting thought that this might be the last time you ever see him. You couldn’t ever summon him again, not after leaving things like this. Rafayel can feel your eyes flitting over his figure, imagines that you’re committing his features to memory.

“It’s quite the opposite,” he admits after some time, long strides closing the distance between the two of you in no time.

You find yourself being pushed back against the bed. Slowly, Rafayel pushes you to lay on your pillow, staring up at him in the moon’s light. He looks ethereal like this and you can’t imagine how you’re still capable of any sort of thinking right now.

A slight chuckle leaves his lips at the sight of your eyes widening. His hand goes to cup your face, leaning in so close your noses would be touching were it not for that infuriating piece of leather that keeps your breaths from intermingling. You have half a mind to ask him again, this time in the form of a wish to see if he’ll accept but you feel your mind go blank as you feel him press his face against your neck.

“What are you-”

Your words devolve to gasps, hands going to cling onto his shoulders as you feel him periodically press a little harder against your skin. If you close your eyes and really focus you think you can feel his lips pressing against the leather, kissing you through his mask. His breath rings in your ear, you trying to keep your gasps quiet to avoid drawing attention to your chambers.  

“Fulfilling Your Highness’ wish. Is that not what you wanted?”

You know that even this much is more than you could ever ask for, Rafayel always watching you cautiously whenever your hands would near his mask. You understand that he has his reasons for privacy and you would never ask him why but now, you’re just desperate to feel his lips on your skin, desperate to know if it’s as good as you’ve fantasized about. The only solace you get is the warmth of his body seeping through his clothes, teasing the tips of your fingers as you try not to act desperate for more of his touch.

“I can feel you holding back. Don’t tell me Your Highness is getting greedy?” he laughs breathily, the slight pant in his voice unnoticed by you with how divine it feels to be under him.

“I don’t want you to hate me,” you manage to mumble, biting back a slight moan when you feel his arm creep under your back and push you closer to his face.

“Hate you?”

The words leave his throat almost bloody. Just the sheer thought of hating you made his stomach churn, murky waters of his affection for you maddened that you could ever think such a thing. His hands tighten their grip on your body to a way that’s almost painful, looking up at you with a look that has so much want in it that it steals the breath out of your lungs.

“I could never hate you.”

His hair tickles your throat as you feel him settle against your neck, nuzzling into you and resting his hand on your waist. You try to turn to face him but the weight of his body stops you, Rafayel giving you a sound of disagreement.

“I told you already. It’s quite the opposite.”

You try to ask him to clarify, about to open your mouth when you he quickly gets up. He looks at you quickly before going to look around your room, shaking his head good naturedly at the slight furrow of your brows and parted lips. You watch him rummage through your things, getting even more confused when he returns with a strip of ribbon between his fingers.

He crawls over your body again, tilting your chin with his knuckles. You think you’re imagining it in the low light but the apples of his cheeks seem tinted red. Curious, you bring your hand up to the side of his face. You’re glad that he doesn’t seem to be flinching away from your touch. A smile graces your lips when you feel how warm his face is, Rafayel now pulling away from you slightly.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, a slight pout in his voice.

“You’re warm,” you laugh, bringing your hand closer to his face.

Your fingers brush against his ear, sure with how warm they are that he’s bright red. Your fingers trail down the curves, nail tracing the shape of his jaw down to his collar. He doesn’t shy away. Instead, his hand goes to grab your wrist, the ribbon tickling your skin as he leans in closer.

“This is your fault. You know that, right?” he scolds lightly.

“If it weren’t for you my heart wouldn’t feel like a hurricane over the ocean. Do you feel that?”

He brings your wrist over to rest on his chest, your palm resting over his heart. True to his word you can feel his heart pounding under your fingers. He presses his chest against you, brows furrowing as your fingers press against him.

“You should be more understanding, Your Highness. You can’t just do these things to people and leave them washed up on the beach during low tide. It’s cruel.”

The way he pitches his voice in your ear makes you swoon and you’re glad you’re already laying down. Your knees feel weak and you barely register his thumbs tracing a smooth line across your cheek. You’re both so close to each other that you’re suffocating in his presence.

“Are you willing to face the consequences?” he whispers into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Weakly, you nod. With this, he brings both his hands to your face and suddenly you have your vision obscured by the ribbon he pulled out earlier. You bring your hands up to reach for it, immediately stopped by his strong grip.

“You said you’d be willing to accept it. You trust me, don’t you?”

His voice is raspy, laced with something more than just the question he’s asked you. There’s a weight to his words, something dragging down the vowels and accentuating the bite of his consonants. Your breath is caught in your throat as you wait for him to finish tying the ribbon behind your head, whimpering softly when he brings his thumb to press against your bottom lip.

Forced to wait, you try to imagine what he might do now. Your mind runs wild, barely listening to the sounds around you when you feel his weight on your body again. You reach out for him but gasp when you feel his lips press against your bare skin. The sound is indecent and you’re embarrassed you were even capable of making it but when you try to hide it you feel him bite you, squeaking in response.

“Don’t hide from me. I want to hear your voice. Don’t you think I deserve a bit of a reward for this?”

He continues to litter your skin in featherlight kisses, and you realise that his clothes don’t seem as thick as they usually are. You can feel his skin through the thinner layers, about to say something when his lips press against yours. It’s soft, barely there but the contact is enough to make your mind spin. You get the sense that he’s testing your boundaries and before he can pull away you wind your fingers through his hair, kissing him more insistently this time.

“I hope you don’t mind the blindfold, but I think it’s more exciting this way, don’t you think? This way, you’re forced to guess what I’m going to do next to you,” he breathes against you when he finally pulls back.

“You just like teasing me,” you mutter, scared to admit just how much you liked this and wanted him to keep going.

“I’m just trying to get revenge on you. You’ve been teasing me too! Don’t act like you’re innocent in all of this.”

He starts to trail kisses down your neck again, sucking gently against your collar. As much as he would like to, he can’t leave any marks on your skin. Something even semi-permanent like that seems far too cruel for someone like him to leave on someone like you. He reveres you and you can feel it in the way he kisses you, showering your body in an affection he’s never felt for anybody else.

“Rafayel – please –” you whimper, his name coming off your tongue his own siren song.  

“Please what? I won’t know what you want if you don’t tell me,” he hums, hand going to play with the fabric beginning to bunch under your waist.

He slots himself between your legs and your knees rest against his hips. You wish you could see him, look at the expression on his face. You wish you could watch him press kisses to your skin, watch his fingers tighten against you the way they are now, the way his nails scratch lightly against your skin between the slits of your nightgown.

“More, please,” he hears you ask weakly. “I need more of you. Rafayel? Please?”

He thinks he should tease you more but considering your current state and his own desperation he decides not to. Instead, he pushes up the fabric on your legs slowly, trying to see if you’ll stop him. When you don’t and instead try to egg him on by making it easier for him, he lets his hands rest on your thighs now laid bare for his hungry gaze.

“Are you sure? This is really something you want?”

The question is desperate, Rafayel not knowing if he wants you to stop him or not. His body longs to be pressed against yours, to make you say his name that prettily over and over again. He thinks he’ll die if he can’t have it, kissing lower and lower over the fabric on your chest to convince you to say yes.

He doesn’t know that he doesn’t have to fight that hard for you.

You clasp your fingers with his, bringing them to rest on the inside of your thighs. He’s glad he can’t see the look in your eyes, knowing that if he did it’d make all of his resolve crack if this is how bold you’re already being without being able to see the effect you have on him.

Tentatively, he brings his fingers closer to the heat burning between your legs. It doesn’t take him long to feel the damp spot between your legs and recognise that it’s getting damper with each kiss he gives you. You start to whine as his fingers tease your slit through your underwear, your body feeling things you didn’t know you could feel just with his touch.

“I didn’t know you were capable of such dirty things Your Highness.”

Despite his teasing words, you can tell he wants it just as much when he slips his fingers between the fabric and your body, fingers haphazardly exploring your body as he kisses your lips again. He swallows each moan you give him desperately, relishing in the whimper you give him when his fingertips start circling your clit.

“You’re the one doing this to me,” you whine, hips bucking against his palm as his fingers slip inside.

“You’re the one who started this. I’ll stop whenever you tell me to,” he mumbles against your neck.

Your moans are louder now and as much as he’d love to have everyone hear how good he makes you feel he also would hate it if your maid came in and saw what was happening. He covers your mouth with his free hand, ignoring the way it feels to have your gasps pressed up against his palm. He wants to ruin you, make you cry and scream from pleasure and have you be his for the rest of time but here, in the quiet of your bedroom he’ll settle for just this for now.

His hand stays focused, letting you moan and gasp into his palm as he fingers you. You feel his palm rest against your body, thumb replacing his finger as he the heel to rest against your core. He can make out gasps of his name when he hits a certain part inside of you and decides it’s too cruel to keep your mouth covered like this. You immediately moan his name, quieter this time to avoid being heard by your staff.

You clench around his fingers, the hand not bracing against his chest going to grab his wrist. Rafayel gives you a breathy laugh and you bury your face against his neck, continuing to moan and plead for him quietly.

“Please – Rafayel – I –“

Your own words are cut off quickly by your impending orgasm, biting into his shoulder to try and hold back your noises as your hips arch into him. The bite of your clothes against your skin as you writhe does nothing to impede the feeling of his hand on your cunt, Rafayel’s voice gently talking you through your orgasm. Stars litter the space of your eyelids, Rafayel’s arm coming to hold you against him.

When you finally come down you find yourself placed carefully in Rafayel’s lap. He’s taken off his shirt and unbuttoned his pants, gently tracing shapes on the skin of your lower back. Your blindfold is still on but you don’t doubt that the hard planes of your bed is Rafayel and when you hear his voice come from just above you you know you’re right.

“You’re awful to me, did you know that?” he muses, groaning slightly when you reposition yourself slightly and brush up against his cock.

“Stop that! I can’t believe you right now.”

“I’m just trying to get comfortable! This is just as much your fault as it is mine,” you say hazily.

You sit up on your knees, carefully putting your arms around his shoulders. You reach behind yourself to touch him, shuddering at the gasp he gives you against your arm. You feel his tip prodding gently against your opening, sinking down slightly. When you hear him gasp again you know you have him where you want him.

“You really want this?” you ask him huskily, mirroring his words from before.

Your hand rests on his cheek and you can feel him nod, continuing your slow descent onto his lap. It takes you a second to adjust to his size, hugging his neck tighter as you moan. His hands come to rest on your hips and he shifts slightly to create a better angle for himself. This makes him sink into you just the slightest bit deeper, you whimpering pathetically as he starts a slow, languid pace thrusting into you.

“Rafayel!” you gasp, hands bunching in his hair as you let him dictate the pace.

“Shh, shh. It’s alright, Your Highness. I’m here for you. Don’t worry – I’ll make you feel good. You know I will,” he mutters into your ear, continuing his gentle grind into you.

For the umpteenth time you wish that you could see him. For now, you have to sate yourself with his pretty moans and gasps, the way he feels inside of you and the affectionate kisses he peppers across your skin. Thanks to his pace you feel yourself coming to a slow build of your orgasm, his soft words of praise and coaxes going straight to your cunt. He groans every time you clench around him, the feeling of your pussy finally being wrapped around him making it hard for his mind to stop swimming.

He angles his hips to find that spot inside of you that makes you see stars, bringing a hand down to your clit despite how much he loves holding you because he knows he’ll love the feeling of you cumming around him more. When you give him a sharp gasp he knows he’s found it, thrusting more insistently. You grind against his pelvis, not wanting it to be over too quickly but still desperate for your release.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Rafayel asks, pulling you out of the depths of your stupor just barely.

“I can feel it. You’re getting so tight around me – if you squeeze me like this then I’ll cum too. It’s okay, just let go. I told you I’d make you feel good, didn’t I? You’ve already done so well. Just a little bit more, okay?” he coaxes, the sound of his voice tipping you over the edge.

You cum with a broken cry of his name, holding onto his shoulders tightly. It takes him just a couple more strokes inside of you to cum himself, unable to think of anything but filling you up and claiming you as his in this small way. The two of you sit together, coming down from your shared high. You whine a little about still wearing the blindfold but that’s quickly quieted by him kissing you again, telling you that it’s part of the condition for him kissing you.

Your breathing slows together and after a minute he feels you becoming dead weight. He laughs to himself when he realises that you’ve fallen asleep on him, carefully moving you aside to lay you back down on your bed. After cleaning the two of you up and tucking you into bed he gives you one final kiss to your forehead. You make a small noise of complaint, Rafayel kneeling at the side of your bed to take one last look at you for the night. His hand rests on your cheek softly, pretending that this didn’t drastically change everything.

“I love you. Sleep well, my Princess,” he whispers, the far away sound of waves lapping on a shore the only witness to his words.  

[luffysprincess]

LIE DETECTOR TEST : RENSUKE KUNIGAMI 

⊹ summary : the blue lock boys are invited to take a lie detector test, but they’ve got to answer twitter’s unfiltered questions

⊹ pairing : rensuke kunigami x reader (established relationship)

⊹ wc : 740

⊹ warnings : fem!reader with she/her pronouns, reader is referred to as a “girlfriend”, unedited, suggestive/nsfw. MINORS DNI

⊹ a/n : kunigami was highly requested and I’m sorry for such a long wait but I finally got the motivation to write his part!! lmk who should be interviewed next <33 ALSO if anyone has a reblog of bachira’s version pls send me the link. I never saved it before I deactivated my previous acc TT

⊹ isagi’s version | bachira’s version

Kunigami’s never been hooked up to a polygraph before. He’s never been in an interview like this before either. When the team’s PR manager introduced the idea to the team, Kunigami was rather excited for something so fun and unique. It’d definitely get them more attention and hopefully expand their fan base. Not to mention, he used to love watching those ‘answering your tweets’ interviews so he was looking forward to being on the other end of the screen this time. 

He, however, did not expect the fans to be so dirty minded. 

“Twitter user @/rensuckmyclit asks ‘How do you feel about breeding and how do I get myself a rensuke creampie??’”

He shouldn’t be so surprised, not after hearing what Isagi and Bachira had to answer but he was hoping he’d get some tame questions. How in the hell was he supposed to answer this?

It didn’t help that he could hear the two men beside him laughing at his expression, one of shock, confusion and embarrassment. But he’s made his bed and now he’s gotta lie in it or however the saying goes. 

“Yeah breeding is…nice, and uh you can’t?” his statement coming out as more of a question. 

All heads in the room turn to Milo, the polygraph examiner, curious to hear his verdict but are met with an old man frowning at his machine. “Inconclusive.”

“Maybe try saying more than just two words, idiot,” Isagi sarcastically adds as he punches his arm. 

“Don’t bother lying, Milo’ill catch ya,” Bachira adds, grinning mischievously at the ginger. 

“I’ll repeat the question for you: ‘How do you feel about breeding and how do I get myself a rensuke creampie??’”

“How are you even saying that with a straight face?!” Kunigami questions. “Ugh nevermind.…Breeding is uh…a yes for me.”

“So you’re into it?”

“Yes I’m into it,” he sighs.

“Milo?”

“Truth”

“And as for the second part of the question—god I can’t believe I’m about to say this on camera—,” Kunigami drags his hand down his face and mutters out the rest of the answer, “only Y/N gets a ‘rensuke creampie’.” He uses his free hand to form air quotes for the embarrassing term. 

“Y/N?” the interviewer questions.

“My girlfriend. Now can I get the next question before these two pass out? Megs looks like he forgot how to breathe– dammit its not that funny!” Hearing their usually collected teammate lose his temper over this only released another wave of cackles from the boys, contagious enough that even the polygraph examiner and the interviewer couldn’t hold back their chuckles. Kunigami can only huff in embarrassment as he waits for what’s next.

“Okay, okay… our next question is from twitter user @/kunigamisrightasscheekhairs.”

“What the fuck are these handles?”

“I think they’re creative,” Bachira snickers.

“They ask ‘What’s the weirdest thing you’ve been asked to sign?’”

Kunigami takes a second to reflect on all his fan interactions. Frowning, he hums in thought and just when he thinks he’s got answer he remembers an even odder instance. On the outside he looks like a fish opening and closing its mouth with nothing ever coming out until finally he sits up straighter to respond, “Someone once asked me to sign her tits.” 

“What’s the verdict Milo? Is he telling the truth?”

“Yup.”

“Well did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Sign the girl’s tits.”

“I don’t need to answer that so I won’t” Kunigami smirks at Isagi feeling smart but the blue eyed man just smirks back, “Well that just makes it seem like you definitely did. I wonder if Y/N knows about this. Should I tell her?”

Isagi is met with Kunigami’s playful glare and a series of curses thrown at him, all of which will be censored out when this episode is posted on BlueTube. 

However, the room is silenced when Kunigami goes serious. He turns to the camera with a straight face, “I’m only admitting this because I don’t want any false accusations of me cheating or anything going around. Yes I signed her tits. And yes Y/N knows about it. They were her tits. And because I know one of these two idiots will ask, yes we were dating at the time.”

“All true,” the examiner confirms but one look at Kunigami’s face would be more than enough to know if he was really telling the truth. Afterall, his face was turning redder than his hair. 

taglist:  @kazuubaby @satanblessing @saiki-enthusiast @nnasv @nymphsdomain @mitzukichan18 @celestair @ilovechuuyaa @mortallytenaciouskoala @tsumu-senpai @hweartiish

[kissitbttr]

frat!Miguel and reader getting into an argument and them posting indirects on each others snap/insta stories and them reposting shady tiktoks knowing the other will see it until miguel just cracks and starts posting cute shit abt her😁😁😁

you are petty when it comes to arguing, never wanted to be the one to take defeat. you will crawl on broken glasses to hell and back before admitting that you’re wrong,

and sometimes it takes a toll on miguel, he’s frustrated over how you are so hard headed sometimes. because then it would lead to this. silent treatment and you stopping to go over the frat house,

but what drives him crazy the most is when he sees all the spam reposts on tiktok coming from your acc, somehow all of them made it to his for you page,

at first, miguel were doing the same too. to see how much you liked getting a little taste of your medicine,

“i’m annoying? you’re annoying, muñeca. let’s see how you like this one. bam” he snickers to himself as he reposts another tiktok of a guy complaining about his girlfriend’s petty behavior,

however the thing is? you don’t actually give a shit,

you’ve been training far too long to deal with this thanks to the shitty men in your previous relationship. so him being petty as you? doesn’t bother you a bit. if anything, it makes it more fun,

it irks him to know that you’re not responding to any of it. if he’s being honest, he wants you to spam him with texts of you being clingy and telling him to stop doing all that extra shit on tiktok. he misses that. he misses you

he swears he’s not letting himself go at that time. he wants you to be the one who apologizes or at least hit him back up. even glen had told him before to wait a couple more days and see if you would actually text him instead the other way around.

but five days without talking to his muñeca and sleeping by her side? yeah, he’s had it

miguel swipes through his contact list and hit your number before dialing it, pacing back and forth in his room.

“hello?” you answer after a few rings,

“i give up. I can’t. i don’t like this, i don’t like you being far from me” he blurts out without saying hello back, head shaking. “you need to come back, muñeca, please. i’m fucking losing it here”

“so you admit defeat, huh?” you smirk on the other line,

“yes. i am folding. i am on my knees.” he admits, running through a hand through his hair out of frustrations. “i’ll say anything you want to hear, whatever it is”

with a chuckle, you decide to tease him more. “post me more on your socials, maybe i think about it”

“i did!” he cries out, “three on my stories and three of your pics on the feed. and I’m rarely active on instagram, you know that!”

oh, he’s serious about this. “aw that’s so sweet, o’hara”

he wide eyed, not liking that name. “o’hara? who the fuck—no o’hara here! i am not o’hara to you, princesa!”

you laugh at how adorable he sounds when he gets upset over you call him by his last name,

you do miss him. miss him so much you can’t even think straight any more. and you hate having this little argument with him, it takes too much of you and his time. sleeping alone doesn’t sound so good anymore, it’s better with hin around.

“get over here, miggy”

he grins at your sudden invitation, grabbing his car keys off the table before rushing out of his room, nearly tripping over the carpet floor as he plucks his jacket from the couch. couple of the guys are all sat in the living room, eyes darting to his.

“woah, easy there pal. going somewhere?” beck raises an eyebrow at his best friend’s clumsy antics,

miguel slips on his shoes and put his signature snapback on

“heading over to my girl’s. won’t be back till tomorrow. bye.”with a cheeky grin, he fist bumps beck who looks at him funny before walking out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

carlos pops a beer can open, plopping onto the empty space of the sofa.

“you guys see that right? him being fucking whipped?”

[theradfemprincess]

You know how many times I’ve been told that I must be a man, even before I made this controversial blog?

And no, I wasn’t being crazy on my other blogs, I was just genuinely posting sfw radfem opinions. Opinions that people didn’t like, opinions that made radfems call me a man.

It feels good, doesn’t it? It feels like an instant win. Well, I’m a woman, so I’m the good guy, and there’s this other person I don’t like… but if THEY’RE a man, aka Bad Guy, then I win!

I mean, it’s not like I can prove I’m NOT a man. So it’s your conclusions vs my testimony. But once you’ve said I’m a man, you’ve already won. No matter what I say in response, your radfem buddies don’t even want to think about agreeing with someone slightly alleged to be a man.

Even though you pulled it out of your ass. But okay.

Obviously I’m doing things much more egregious than you all are used to but my point is that this is a problem spread to even the tiniest radfem disagreements. Who can be the first to call the other the man, let’s race!

Not to mention the fatphobia.

You say “it’s okay to be fatphobic to men”, but I know I’m not a man. I know that for a fact, even if you don’t believe me, because I have XX chromosomes. but even if you don’t believe me, what happened to the “if you’re racist to men, you’re racist to women” rhetoric that’s constantly spread around radblr? Does it no longer apply when it’s fat people? Pancake tits, obese, ugly? There’s a million biological women that look just like me (I am one but what can I do to make you believe me). Even if I was a man, or if I stole that picture from the internet, you are insulting women who look that way. You are insulting fat people. That includes fat women.

I have been sent gore. I have never blocked in my life, but I had to for this because I felt unsafe.

All because someone assumed I was a man. Therefore, it’s okay.

Meanwhile people have been arguing with me that women can rape men. You hate men SO much that you can be fatphobic to them with no problem and send them gore, but you love them enough that you will defend them from women online who think women can’t rape them? I’m just looking for some consistency here. Either males are subhuman or they’re not. Choose one.

Anyway, radblr, you got some problems. You’re a couple of entitled women who can sit back unharmed in your beds while you harass people online as you please in a pretend daydream of faux rightousness. At least I know I’m the bad guy sometimes. Y’all seem incapable of doing the same self reflection, judging from my about a year of different accounts on radblr

This might be up for a while or might be deleted soon idk. But I’ll be back soon with a new acc and you won’t know a thing. I’ve blended in before. I’ve actually rounded up quite a following before. At the end of the day, I am an actual radfem.

Women can be fucked up creatures too, yall. You complain about tumblr virgins but I think you’re the naive ones if you don’t even know the kinda stuff women get up to on here. We can’t ALL be roleplaying tims. There’s absolutely some freaky ones amongst your beloved angel sex. Sorry you had to find out this way.

Tldr… fatphobia ain’t cool, so either start being freely racist to brown men too or suck it up and don’t be fatphobic to ANYONE, man or not. Stick to your own damn self-imposed rules

(not to mention I’ve been telling y’all to reverse image search that picture and none of you bothered! Lmfao)

[mirnilop]

𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑜𝓁𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝓋𝒾𝓁 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 ˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ wally darling

⚠ tags: sfw, mob au, yandere!wally, gn!singer!reader, power imbalance, discussions of violence

♡ synopsis: you’d be surprised how many fans you accrue as a small-time lounge singer. while this is usually a good thing, one of yours happens to rule half the city, so he isn’t exactly receptive to the word “no”.

♡ word count: 5,310

⛧ﾐ‧*･ﾟ the following content may be triggering to some. please proceed with caution! ･ﾟ*‧ミ⛧

a/n: hello!! ₍ᐢ.ˬ.⑅ᐢ₎ goshh, my very first post on this acc!! i haven’t posted fanfic in a hot minute but i’m suuuper excited to get back into it!! 💞 i have sooo many wips for this fandom, it was difficult to choose which one to finish first! credit to @/clownsuu for creating the au and for the lovely art!! i tweaked the concept a wee bit so that it takes place in a roger rabbit-esque world where puppets and humans live together unharmoniously (with a jessica rabbit inspired reader ofc >v>). it was a lot of fun trying to marry wally's canon personality with a Scary Mob Boss (*´ 艸`) i can't wait to post more!! what are y'all's favourite aus? let me know!! ･*･:≡(　ε:)

There’s a rose on your vanity.

The sight of it snuffs out your high spirits, irritation igniting in its place– and it was such a good day, too! You and the girls were perfectly in sync for your entire performance, bolstered by the unusually affable audience; you even rewarded them with a sneak peek of new material, which made them go wild!

Dreams of stomping it beneath your heel stew in your head as you drop it in the faience vase at the rim of the mirror, where a crinkled, beige-tipped rose droops against the rim. Why not break the vase too? An idea that’s crossed your mind too many times, and while it gets harder to resist with each flower, you endure it. They’re presents, after all, and you doubt your admirer would take kindly to the news that you’ve trashed them. You’re certain one of his minions would obtain the evidence, if not witness you do it; you can’t pinpoint the extent to which they survey you, but the crawling sensation of eyes on your back crops up often, and obviously they have no problem barging into your dressing room to play delivery service.

Sighing, you comb through your rolling rack to pick a suitable outfit to change into. Most of the articles hanging are also gifts, but you’ve made sure to keep some of your own hard-earned clothes here out of sheer spite. A burgundy cashmere number has just slipped into your grasp when the door bursts open.

“How’s that for a show?! And what a great crowd, a whole buncha dolls! Or– well, puppets– and humans! Hahaha!”

Lottie skips in with her usual energy, the bell on her collar jingling alongside the clack of her Mary Janes. You hate that their manager mandates the bells as a part of their costumes, as if puppets being treated like second-class citizens wasn’t enough. “You wanna make money or not? It’s part of the appeal! You know, Mary Had A Little Lamb and all that!” is what he told you after one of your countless tirades regarding his treatment of them, but the sleazy smirk wrapped around his cheap cigarette allowed you to read between the lines. As much as you despise that man, it’s not your business to judge the trio for staying contracted with him. Mottie’s recalled to you how difficult it was to hire a manager at all, and you suppose you have to (begrudgingly) thank him for bringing them into your life, since he’s the one who bagged them the backup singer gig.

A swell of color in your peripheral lets you know that she’s come near, but you don’t bother diverting attention from your search. This is such a common occurrence between you two that pleasantries are no longer required.

“And they were mighty generous with the tips! So me and the gals was thinking we should go somewhere to… celebrate…”

Hearing her trail off, you turn to find her staring at the new rose, her once-perky ears fallen limp. You click your tongue, remorse prickling your heart, though you’ve done nothing wrong.

“I’ll be alright, Lottie. Here,” You grab a wad of bills from your personal tip jar and fold them into her hand. “You take your sisters somewhere nice, my treat. As an apology for having to skip out tonight.”

When she doesn’t move from her spot, merely pouting at you with big, glistening eyes full of concern, you swaddle her in a hug. Fleecy strands of shell pink hair tickle your nose as she nestles her snout into your shoulder, squeezing you like a lifebuoy. Having her in your arms is a vital reminder as to why you continue to put up with everything. Lottie, Dottie and Mottie are your beloved friends– your family when you had none– and you are willing to do whatever is necessary to build a life with them.

“Are ya sure?”

“Positive. And if that bug gives you even a whiff of trouble, you come get me right away, got it?”

She laughs, the sound a balm to the ache of your worries. “He never gives us any trouble– n’fact, I haven’t heard ‘im say a single word!”

“Good. At least one of them has manners. Now go have fun!”

After a few more hugs and a promise to relay your apology to her sisters, she trots towards the entrance. Halfway through it, she pauses.

“Promise ya’ll play nice?”

An involuntary grimace twists your face, which you smooth immediately.

“I was planning on it,” you concede, earning an exhale of relief from Lottie.

“Thanks. Honestly, I’m kinda worried...” She leans against the doorframe, gaze trained on the checkered floor. “I see more and more of that Napoleon-wannabe’s goons lately. Do ya think he’s gettin’ antsy? It’s been real quiet since that incident with Dorelaine.”

Ah, the incident. It happened a handful of months ago; he refused to go into specifics, but what you’ve gathered from his gnomic recount and various news stories is that their rival organization– led by Ronald Dorelaine, a human man– planted explosives somewhere important, racking up thousands in damages and dismembering several puppets, left to be mended with those horrific stitches. You didn’t receive another rose until several weeks afterwards.

“I can’t be sure,” you admit. “He doesn’t tell me much about the goings-on of the ‘family’, not that I care to know. But I noticed he’s been more wound up lately… maybe they’re going to retaliate?”

A visible shudder travels through Lottie, and she tosses her head as if to ward off the gravity of your predicament. It was easier to ignore the implications when there wasn’t an active turf battle.

“You’re right, we should stay as far as we can from that nasty business. Wear the red, then. To butter ‘im up a little.” She offers you a conflicted half-smile, most likely holding herself back from proposing a makeover, before sidling out the door.

Glowering, you follow the advice, shucking your tight, shimmering stage outfit for the cozy cashmere you were eyeing before. Like I need to be reminded of his favorite color. I’ve practically lived in red since I met him. It inexplicably fits like a glove, as do all of the clothes you've been bestowed; for the sake of your sanity, you prevent yourself from delving too far into that subject.

As you fix the little bits of your appearance that got mussed up during your performance, you can’t help but contemplate hiding in your room until morning, even though you know it wouldn’t work– and you’d have to pay for a broken front door. Once every speck of lint has been removed and your ensemble is flawless, you steel your resolve with a hard look in the mirror. If things go south, at least you’ll make a gorgeous open casket.

You step into your shoes and out of the dressing room, swiping your bag and a matching hat from the plethora that dangle on knobs affixed to the wall along the way. The haze that eternally permeates the lounge envelops you as you walk, no longer springing tears to your eyes like it did so long ago, when you were a starry-eyed fledgling. Upon entering the foyer, you call out to the owner, Gene, who’s counting the register behind the bar.

“Hey, I’m heading out!”

“Geez, you’re in a hurry! Got a hot date or what?”

“Something like that,” you breathe, your nerves relighting tenfold now that you’re so close to the outside.

“Ahh, I getcha.” His amusement is clear, construing an innuendo within your words that is absolutely not there, but you’d rather die than clarify. “You did a great job today, you deserve it!”

Somehow, your admirer has managed to limbo directly under Gene’s nose; thus far he’s made no indication that he’s aware he has a very important patron. For a moment, you observe him, and see how he absentmindedly rubs the pocket of his button-up– where a polaroid of his two children is safely tucked away– and you decide that it’s probably for the best.

“Thanks, Gene. Have a good one.”

“You too!”

His reply barely reaches you as you cross the threshold from the comfort of your work into the cold, pensive night. A luckier soul may have suffered a fright when greeted with the colossal figure standing below the street light, carved with shadow, but it’s a familiar sight to you now. An inconspicuous black car is parked behind him.

“Hi Howdy.”

“Evening, Mx.” He bows slightly, whisking open the sleek passenger door which you reluctantly slide inside.

“I wish you’d stop calling me that. I do have a name.” It’s true. Being addressed formally by such an important figure imbues you a with a sick feeling, like he’s won, and you’ve already been initiated into this fucked up institution.

Though he waits for you to finish speaking before shutting you in, he doesn’t grace you with a response; not that you were expecting one. In all the times he’s escorted you to these duress-dates, as you’ve taken to calling them, he’s remained stoic to a mechanical degree, acknowledging your presence and nothing more. Thrashing, crying, screaming– you’ve tried everything to escape, and have never elicited a reaction more severe than that of a tired parent handling a tantrum. If you resist, he simply manhandles you. It’s hardly a fair match, with him having 4 arms and several feet of height on you, so you opt to reserve your energy for dealing with his headache of a boss.

When he hauls his many limbs onto the driver’s seat, the car lurches, too small to accommodate a puppet of his stature; he has to hunch forward to see the windshield, antennae pushed flat. You lean back and vacantly turn towards the window, wondering if cars big enough for someone like him to drive comfortably even exist while the engine rumbles to life.

The umbrous cityscape passes you by, inklings of humans and puppets flashing in and out of the darkness like ghosts. Thick boughs of red and green tinsel are strung across a few lamp posts, but by the end of the season they’ll all be covered. Dottie’s already triple checked that you and her sisters have one day of the annual Christmas market off, even though you strike the same deal with Gene every year; the four of you get Saturday, then he gets Sunday to take his family. It’s one of your favorite times of the year, if only because you get to experience the aura of wonder that enlivens Lottie when the first snow falls, Mottie’s timid wheedling to attend The Nutcracker, and Dottie’s alphabetically-organized checklist of fun winter activities.

Those cheerful thoughts are wiped away as Howdy turns into a private garage attached to a sleek, angular skyscraper. He parks in the spot nearest to the entrance, the first in a row of spaces labeled with metal “Reserved for Staff” signs, and circles the car to let you out. The sensation of him gingerly lifting you comes with no alarm; he always assists you up the concrete stairs leading to the elevator, as if you’re so physically inept you can’t handle 3 tiny steps. You assume his needless precaution is for the same reason he hasn’t beaten you yet despite defying him so often: boss’s orders.

With a reedy knell, the elevator glides open, and Howdy signals for you to go ahead. Once you’re both inside, he inserts a key and presses the button for the uppermost level. Expecting a noiseless ride, you tune into the low muzak emitting from the speakers, which makes you miss the first time he calls you.

“Mx.”

Startled, you swivel towards him. His steadfast profile is unreadable.

“Boss doesn’t know you’ve opposed him so vehemently in the past. Please keep that in mind tonight.”

The entrance broaches before you can interrogate him as to what the hell he means, granting you entry to a luxury penthouse laved in gold, ivory, and– of course– red. A glimmering chandelier suspends from the ornamental ceiling, bathing the antique furniture in an amber glow. If you hadn’t just ridden up the elevator, you would have assumed such a lavish drawing room belonged to an old mansion.

It’s something straight out of a romance novel, except instead of a chiseled, broody Italian, it’s a short puppet sitting at the marble-topped dining table. He lounges at the head in a slate blue silk suit with its jacket buttoned to the top; an honor seemingly reserved solely for you, because it’s the only way you’ve seen him wear it, despite street tales describing the way it billows from his shoulders as he stalks the town. Revealed by its plunged neckline is the collar of a white dress shirt embossed with rainbow pinstripes, and a red ascot neatly tied and pulled askant around his throat.

Wally Darling, in the felt: kingpin of The Neighborhood, and resident thorn in your side.

When you arrive, he rises to meet you, dismissing Howdy with a pointed glance; you’ve learned that the relationship between a crime lord and his loyal bandog transcends language. You watch him as he leaves through a pair of swinging doors to the left, his cryptic advice-slash-warning heavy on your mind.

And so, you find yourself alone with the most dangerous man in the city– puppet or otherwise.

“Good evening, dearest. I hope my gift found you well.”

The concept of personal space might as well be Greek to Wally, since he hasn’t once respected it from the day you had the misfortune of making his acquaintance. He crowds so close that you have to crane your neck to see his face, the heat emanating from him eliciting shivers in your chill-soaked body.

“Yes, thank you. It was quite a lively night,” you chirp, wielding a civil smile.

Although the contours of his wispy, coiffed curls only reach your ribs, he extends his arm to you, which you take with such a featherlight hold that you barely brush his sleeve. Rather than leading you to the dining table like you expected, you’re guided towards a small lounge area to the side, the crackling croon of Billie Holiday wafting over from a refurbished stereo console in the corner. Oh, great. He’s feeling sentimental.

“Would you indulge me with a dance before dinner?”

Don't have much of a choice, do I?

“I’d love to.”

Dancing with Wally is funny, in an ironic sort of way; it certainly caught you off guard the first time he asked. When you envision dancing with a powerful, deadly mobster, you think of being swept away, wrapped snugly by strong arms and a dastardly smirk, or perhaps something more courtly, like a waltz steered by a polite hand on your waist. Turns out both versions are incorrect.

Muscle memory ushers your arms open, and Wally falls into the space in between them– literally. Slack against you, his full weight is heftier than his height would imply, but not physically uncomfortable– emotionally and morally, however, are another story. An air of pure peace washes over him as his cheek nuzzles the underside of your chest, arms limp at his sides; you swear you even hear a little trill. Your face burns, but you say nothing as you begin to sway faintly to the beat, tracing a loop with your feet as you traipse along. Wally follows easily, tethered by the reluctant cage of your embrace.

“Do you remember the night we met?”

The query is felt more than heard, his gentle monotone muffled by the downy fabric of your garb. You huff softly to yourself, rustling a few gel-slick strands atop his pompadour.

“How could I forget?”

The day the infamous Mr. Darling appeared in your club, his two largest henchmen in tow, is burned into your brain like a regrettable tattoo; Gene was off, so you were covering entertainment for the night while the sisters managed the bar and floor. As you were singing the very song playing now, you detected a curious hush that had overtaken the throng of guests, and strained to cut through the stage glare and cigarette fog to locate the cause. Tracking the audience, who were all regarding the bar with varying amounts of subtlety, you nearly dropped the microphone when you saw the broad blue back of Barnaby B. Beagle, someone you’d only heard of in gossip. He gesticulated as he spoke boisterously to poor Mottie, who was as white as a sheet behind the counter. Situated a slight ways away was Howdy Pillar, who stood as motionless as a statue with both sets of forelimbs fastened behind him.

And then you noticed him. A puppet no more than 4 feet tall, but whose oppressive presence commanded full attention. He paid no mind to the (one-sided) conversation between his colleague and your friend– no, he was staring right at you. Boring into you so acutely that you felt pinned, compelled somehow to continue singing until the final note trickled away.

As if a spell had been broken, you leapt from the platform and scurried to Mottie, who stayed petrified even when you tried to covertly nudge her to the side. How avidly you wished a fissure would open beneath their shoes and swallow them whole; but, armed with years of appeasing difficult and sordid customers, you spoke.

“Evening, fellas. I hope you enjoyed the show.”

Barnaby, who had stopped talking when you rounded the bar, bellowed a laugh.

“Fellas?! Is that any way to greet the boss and I?"

He tilted forward with menacing glee, propped up by furry elbows as his claws scraped the laminate countertop. Each of his fangs were as big as your nose.

"Dontcha know who we are, toots? Or do ya just need a refresher on respect?"

The acrid smoke from his cigar blew directly into your face, making spikes of anger bubble in your belly as you choked back a cough. Just when you felt composed enough to reply, a surprisingly mellow voice chimed in.

"It's alright, Barnaby."

The shock slacking his jaw mirrored yours, although you hid it under a mask of cool indifference. You dared a glance at Mr. Darling, but the pressure of his peer chased your gaze back to Barnaby, who grumbled as he straightened back up. It was difficult to stay trained on his good eye, but you soldiered on. Fear was not something you could afford to show, and you knew you'd crumble if you peeked at the fabled gaping socket that he stapled open himself.

"I don't suppose you're Gene Clifton, aged 54, father of two, owner of this joint?" He joked, recovered from the flub.

"No, sir, but my banker would sure be happy if I was. Can I take down a message?"

"A message! I love this bird!" Snickering cruelly, he waved a flippant paw. "Y'should try that material on stage sometime, might bring ya more customers than the singing bit."

You sucked a sharp inhale up your nose. Serenity now.

"See, here's the problem. This is family territory, and in return for our protection, we charge a teensy fee. Now, we ain't unreasonable– we've sent ole Gene a few letters. And what’s our thanks for such humble hospitality? Zilch."

Oh dear. Gene doesn't bother investigating any mail the lounge receives before tossing it because it’s typically adverts. He definitely would've noted The Neighborhood's seal if he did. Regardless, the frank abuse of power only fanned your annoyance, obscuring your better judgment.

"What protection? I don't recall seeing any of your members patrolling outside. Besides, we didn’t ask for protection."

Mottie snapped towards you, looking as though she might faint. The corner of Barnaby's mouth twitched skyward, like he was hoping you'd argue, but his boss beat him to the punch.

"We can reach an agreement, I’m sure. I'd hate to see a family establishment go under, especially when they have such lovely entertainment."

Apparently Wally was so smitten that he'd accept your company in lieu of money, and so the agreement (if you can even call it that, since you were coerced) was this– whenever a rose was delivered to you, you'd attend a rendezvous with him. When you returned to your dressing room later that evening, you discovered the first gift of several: your vase.

“I knew because of your eyes.”

The floral wallpaper in front of you shifts back into focus, Wally’s voice shaking you from your recollection.

“Pardon?”

“That night, you drew me in; I couldn’t concentrate on anything else, least of all a petty protection tax. And I knew I had to have you when I met your eyes.” He sounds dreamy, reminiscing as you were before, though his framing of events is worlds apart from your own; he recalls a destined encounter with his future partner, whereas you mark it the day your wings were clipped for good.

“They shone like stars, even through the smog.”

It’s only after he’s finished that you realize you’ve stopped moving, wrapped in an intimate hug like true lovers. A strange mix of pride and disgust floods you at the compliment, stomach flip-flopping rapidly.

He untangles from you, receding so that only your hands remain connected. The newfound distance eases some of your tension, but to your horror, you find yourself mourning the loss of the husky scent of his cologne. Loath as you are to admit it, the bastard smells amazing: a dark, leathery swirl of apples and saffron that you’d buy out if someone turned it into a candle.

“Let’s not delay any longer. You must be starving.”

True to his gentlemanly veneer, he seats you at the table before settling himself. You don’t see him call, but a server emerges immediately from the doors through which Howdy left with a tray of appetizers.

There are two graces you award Wally Darling: his excellent taste in cologne, and his staff’s Michelen-quality fare. Though they adopt the four courses typical of fine dining, the dishes are more grounded, toeing the border between grandma and Gordon Ramsay perfectly. Truthfully, you’re not even sure what to categorize it as; virtually everything is transfigured into a jello, pie, or salad, harkening back to the post-war cookbooks you used to gawk at as a child in your late mother’s library. The yellowed pictures in those books appeared extremely unappetizing, but somehow The Neighborhood makes it work.

It could be because of an illusive member named Poppy, one of the 7 who make up Wally’s illustrious inner circle. She’s scarcely seen due to her fretful and skittish nature, but Wally lauds her cooking and baking skills, regaling you in the past with plenty of kitchen mishaps that occurred when she tried to decompress by experimenting with recipes and was interrupted by their more excitable comrades. If you remember correctly, he once told you that most of the menus in rotation were created by her.

The nature of these duress-dates is wholly dependent on Wally’s mood– if he’s happy, then he’ll gladly chat your ear off about frivolous happenings in his and his friends’ private lives, though he takes care to be shrewd with any details that dive too deep into the murky underbelly lying just below. If he’s unhappy, then they can be utterly unbearable; his mere existence puts you on edge, so it’s exponentially worse when he’s out of sorts, tone curt and glare fierce.

Thankfully, he’s amiable tonight. The first 3 courses march on without incident, and painless conversation flows between the two of you, even if he does most of the talking– you’re not exactly eager to share more than you have to. It’s when the server presents dessert that things go awry.

“Say, how are those triplets you work with doing?” Wally says, spooning at the Bananas Foster. “I haven’t had the pleasure of catching a performance since our mishap a while back. So much paperwork, so little time, you know how it is.”

The mention of both your friends and the aforementioned Dorelaine incident have you bristling reflexively, but you do your best to tamp it down.

“They’re well, overall. Sometimes it’s difficult for them– their manager’s a real piece of work, and we get all types at the lounge.”

“I see…”

He lets out a long “hmmmm”, like he’s reflecting on this information.

“My family has also come upon hard times. It can be… trying, sometimes, to guide my children. Especially now, when we are under unjust attack.” He confesses, wistfully resting his chin on a thread-scarred palm. “Every family requires a head, but what is a head without a neck?”

Unjust my ass. Still, the weird metaphor confuses you.

“A neck?”

At that, his catlike grin only grows. What is he talking about?

“Yes, a neck; that is, someone who supports the head. I care for my family, so it’s only right I am cared for in return, wouldn’t you say?”

Though the phrasing is puzzling, you’re fairly confident you can infer what he’s purposefully dangling in front of you, and oh, it makes your stomach plummet. Sweat breaks out underneath your suddenly-sweltering outfit; it's as if you've been tied to a railroad and have managed to divert the train through pure will for a year, but now it's steamrolling square for you. The anxiety of impending doom renders you mute, unable to piece together a coherent thought.

Taking your silence in stride, Wally leans forward, intense as he grasps your hand in both of his own. The yellow fuzz does nothing to help how clammy you feel.

“What I mean to say is, I think that it’s time to settle down."

No.

“Wh– what? Settle down how?”

“To get married, silly.”

You’re unable to help the gasp that escapes you. No, no, no!

“Get married? You mean– to me?!”

“Of course. I’ve been courting you all this time, haven’t I?”

You sputter, and he rubs your hand as if to soothe you. His many gold rings gleam under the chandelier, teasing a glimpse of your fate.

“I know in the beginning you weren’t receptive to the idea of this life, but I've shown you that I can provide for you better than anyone else.”

Your expression must betray your surprise, because he chuckles– a slow, stilted sound that sends gooseflesh blooming across your skin.

“You thought I didn’t know? Howdy may not have reported it– which I’ll rectify in due time– but I have eyes everywhere, dear. You’re quite the talented actor, though.”

That trademark simper melts into something beguiling; he cradles you as if you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held.

“I love you, and I will take care of you, as I ask you to do for me. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

An inviting facade of genuine affection, so ardent that you almost want to believe it. Wouldn’t that be the easiest path to take? To surrender to the hand that feeds, because where it strangles others, it caresses you sweetly? It’s more tempting than you’d ever divulge, because underneath the armor of aplomb you've so carefully forged, you're exhausted. This burden has been yours alone to bear– and what a bear it is, because if you mess up, the people you love could be injured, or worse. So much worse.

Perhaps sensing an opening, Wally continues.

“Be reasonable. The family welcomes you with open arms! Haven’t you missed having a family?"

The words stab you right through the heart, and your waning resolve springs back tenfold by the fury that ruddies your vision. When you rip your hand away, he makes no move to stop you.

"My friends are my family. I don’t want anyone else, especially not murderers!” You snarl. “You kill people– and torture and maim them! How can you expect me to accept this?!"

"All in a day's work when cleaning up the city, unfortunately," Wally hums. "I wish we didn't have to resort to such things, but you must understand. As it is, puppets are treated as less than, and hardship runs rampant for both humans and puppets alike. You’ve experienced these firsthand.” With the elegance of a master conman, he touches his chest in mock respire. “All we wish to do is provide a safe haven for those in need– somewhere to rest your bones, enjoy a hot meal, and where everyone accepts you as their own. A home.”

You abruptly stand up, feeling like you’re wound so taut that you could erupt at any moment. The mahogany chair behind you tips over from the force, striking the floor with a leaden thud, though the sound is deafened by the blood rushing in your ears.

“Bullshit! You don’t have to start a gang to combat discrimination or help suffering people! Maybe that spiel works on the poor saps you trick into doing your dirty work, but it won’t work on me. The answer is no.”

All is still for a moment as you struggle to calm your heaving breaths, trembling and locked in a quiet stalemate with Wally, who’s as relaxed as ever. Your attention flits from his right eye to where the left would be, if not for the lesion carved from a notch above his eyelid to an inch below, giving the illusion that what lies beneath is impaled.

Oh shit.

The magnitude of what just transpired comes crashing down as your adrenaline flushes out. After playing it safe for months– stomaching unwanted exorbitant gifts, being tailed by his employees, and rousted to innumerous “dates”– you just rejected Wally Darling in the most aggressive way possible. So you do the only thing that might garner you a chance to make it out of this alive: run.

You’re halfway across the room when 4 thick arms suddenly wrangle and force you to halt, a scream ripping itself from your throat out of fear. Can this motherfucker teleport now?! How the hell did he get here so fast?? Thrashing, you throw your head back to search Howdy’s face, desperate for an ounce of the sympathy he’d offered in the elevator, but it is in vain; his stony visage is impenetrable, as though it had never wavered.

“How about you sleep on it, hm? Think about all of your options. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to those little lambs when their adorable shepherd isn’t around to protect them.”

Delicate fingers cup your jaw, making you freeze as Wally stretches up to plant a faux-kiss on your cheek, complete with a small “mwah!”. You scowl daggers at him as he collects your hat from where it flew to the floor, dusts it off, and lovingly places it back on your head before giving you a few pats.

“Aw, don’t be that way, darling. I truly meant what I said; you have beautiful eyes. I can hardly wait to try one on.”

With a snap, you’re hauled over Howdy’s back and spirited out of the room, presumably to be transported to wherever you’ll be staying. Hopefully not Wally’s quarters.

It’s all too much; you feel like you’re trapped in a nightmare. How else did you expect this to end? You’re not sure. With all of the awful things he’s done, forcing you into marriage is not beyond him. You just thought you’d have more time: to plan, to save up enough money to take the girls and race to the hills.

Tears gather on your waterlines, and the minute your mouth wobbles, they spill ceaselessly. Full-bodied sobs wrack you, the pain of Howdy’s shoulder jutting into your midsection compounding the profound ache of sorrow. All this time, you’ve been trying to fight, but there was no fight to be had; it ended the moment his eyes found yours across the lounge that day.

[umeoniii]

sweet rei

˖⁺‧₊˚❀˚₊‧⁺˖

reiner is a very sweet guy. despite his muscular and tall frame, he’s such a sweet and harmless man. super duper romantic as well.

he buys you flowers all the time, just because you’re dating doesn’t mean that he’s going to stop because he won’t. even on just an average tuesday he has a huge bouquet of handpicked flowers just 4 u. he’s absolutely head over heels in love with you. he’ll do anything and everything for his pretty girl to be happy.

if you’re feeling sad he’s right there, he’ll rub your shoulders and massage your feet asking you what’s wrong, he’ll be completely affected by your mood too. if you’re sad then he’s 10x more sad. and when you finally tell him what’s wrong he’s all over you telling you it’ll be okay and he’ll help make it all better. and he doesn’t fail to make it better.

he buys whatever he possibly thinks will make you feel better. food, clothes, perfumes? whatever it is that he’s caught you talking about on the phone with your girlfriends he’s quick to purchasing it. and when you see all the packages and him sitting by them with a sweet smile on his face you can’t help but jump onto him giving him a tight hug.

there’s nothing he loves more than seeing his soon to be wife beaming.

when you’re upset with him, he literally wishes he were dead. he’ll do anything for your forgiveness whether what he did was as small as getting a little snappy or as big as spilling a drink on your new white platform sandals.

sometimes he quite literally starts bawling because he can’t stand seeing you upset with him. obviously you forgive him very quickly because you don’t like seeing him super down in the dumps.

quickly after that he’s all over you kissing you and telling you how it won’t happen again.

the only time you’ll see him become really upset is when another man is trying to get involved with you. that’s when his actions match his looks. he won’t hesitate to beat someone into a pulp just for whistling at you. then he’ll proceed to get back up and hold your hand all innocently.

devoted isn’t even the perfect word to describe it. sometimes it feels as if he’ll do absolutely anything and that’s when you tell him that it’s okay to just stop. but sometimes he just doesn’t trust himself leaving you alone, ya’ know?

you want food? he’ll cook it. you want to take a shower? he’ll help you wash up. you have to use the bathroom? he’ll stand next to you to make sure you don’t fall in.

you’ve gotten so used to it that it doesn’t even bother you anymore.

there’s not even a slight change when you’re having sex.

when you have sex with him he’s still pampering you and praising you. callin you his sweet little princess and telling you about how he won’t let you go while he’s absolutely destroying you. but it’s not bad because it’s reiner. balls deep and rubbing your fleshy insides it doesn’t hurt, because it’s reiner.

n’ he’s just so in love with everything you do. he’s thinks the faces you make while taking him is adorable. the way you gasp his name softly and tap his back. and especially the way your belly folds when he pushes your knees to your chest. it was the small things he cherished about you.

because rei is just a sweet guy.

♡

a/n: my acc is about to become a reiner fan page >< i literally love him sm.

[fariesoiree]

hiiii it's my birthday and I was wondering if I could get a birthday hobie x reader?

hi pumpkin! first off, happy late birthday i hope you had sooooo much fun. so sorry i couldn’t get this to you on your actually birthday. i wanted to, promise! i just had a lot to do but here you go <3 celebrating your birthday w hobie. i’m hoping this makes it through tumblr bc my last drabble about rengoku is not showing up on the dash but it’s on my acc if you’re interested — hoping this is what you wanted | mdni, black fem coded reader, unedited

birthdays came up early in your relationship with hobie, especially considering his came a few months before yours. you found out rather quickly that he’s not a big fan of making the day a holiday.

of course, he’ll smile and plant a sweet a kiss on your two-toned lips when you, eventually, pull a tiny, gift wrapped gift out hidden — somewhere new every time — and set it in his hands. you do it every time, even hen he says he doesn’t want a single thing, and it’s always a relatively cheap gift so he doesn’t make a fuss about it. last year, it was a little necklace set from hot topic, modeled after the coraline movie’s stone and key — only $7.95 and thankfully, on sale.

however, your birthdays are different.

they’re important to you and therefore, important to hobie. he cherishes them, staying away from your affection all day while he prepares his boathouse for your arrival. he’ll get balloons and candles for mood lighting, he’ll go to the grocery store and pocket a box of cake mix and whipped icing, he’ll use the sprinkles from the night before. hobie will even chop up fruit and melt chocolate to dip them in later, following the creamy pasta he’s cooked for dinner just in case you didn’t feel like indulging in something as sweet as cake, that night.

that’s not dessert though. the real dessert comes after cuddling on the couch and soaking in the praises that fall from your lips between kisses until your lips are swollen and sheened with saliva. every year, he takes your hand and leads you to his bedroom, where he forces you to close your eyes upon stepping through the door way. you can’t know where his hiding space is. you’re too curious and would end up investigating it in secret later on.

this year, hobie managed to get you the demonia camel-311’s. how he had gotten him through his unconventional methods is unknown to you but you don’t ask, too busy fawning over the smooth, vegan suede beneath your fingertips.

“oh my god, hobie. what the hell?” you say, seated on the end up his disheveled bed, eyes round in grateful astonishment.

hobie’s has always been . . . clean but not tidy. he knows where everything is and you understand that he has a system. the random stacks of albums littered around the room never bothered you, nor did single wall covered with painted doodles parallel to the bed you sit on.

“you like em’, bug?” he drawls, showcasing his prideful smile full of teeth as he watches you go through the motions to react to his grand gift. “i’m mates with this guy who sells em’. looks like something you’d like.” hobie doesn’t bring up the deal he made to do some manual labor instead of paying such a pretty penny for these shoes.

you head rise and falls in a little nod and you set the shoes on the floor, reaching inside to pull out the brown-gray stuffing paper to keep the molding of the shoes.

this persists for a while, your gushing and prattling over the platform boots, warm and perfect for the winter. it’s all a routine part of the night, something you’ve expected — not because you knew what gift he was going to get you, but because he always gets you material gift before and something a little more after.

the after is what you both know you’re really looking forward to, after all the events that slowly passed throughout the night.

“oh my god, hobie!” it’s the same words from earlier but this time, said so much differently. it’s whiney, airy, and provocative. you can’t help it, the sound forced out of your mouth with each snug smack of hobie’s heavy balls against the brown globes of your ass, part of which glisten with the watery cream of your past two orgasms.

hobie plucks your hand slotted against the soft outlines of his abdominal muscles on his stomach. he grins, strained, and rests your palm against his chubby lips. “you g - got it, pretty.” he mumbled into the warm skin of her hands, words muffled on their way to your ears, not that you’re paying attention anyway. “ ‘s your dick, yeah?”

anything he says just comes across as faint buzzing humming in your head. your legs have begun to shake and twitch, muscles stretched and pushed up to your ears. your cunt is on full display, in its brown and chubby glory, squeezing around the length of hobie’s cock with the intent to milk him dry.

your back has long begun to arch off the soft mattress with a balled hand repeatedly making soft contact with his shoulder. you’re struggling to withstand it, writhing beneath his hold. you’re sure you would have wiggled away and up the bed had he not had you anchored in his grip. you’re struggling but you love it, finding yourself delirious with the lust that comes with being fucked within an inch of your life.

“can’t,” you hiccup, tugging at your hand encapsulated by his. you want to draw it back and push him some more but he won’t let you, overpowering your strength with his own. tears form in the outer corners of your eyes and roll down the sides of your face.

you’re rewarded with a firm smack on the chub on your round butt, leaving a stinging sizzle that has you jolting with a gasp. another wave of waterworks comes forward in your eyes. you want to sob but the ability is ripped away when hobie digs his fingers into your mouth, as many as he can until no more can fit and drool is pooling out the corners.

“you’re, god, lyin’, pet. hate that,” he pauses, pressed entirely into your sopping wet cunt, eyeing you with disdain. his fingers press against your soft tongue, eliciting more drool to pull in your mouth. he tilts his head at the sight of you, twitching and eyes blown out.

he can still feel your pussy pulsing greedily, begging for more, and he chuckles, pulling his slob covered fingers out your mouth and taking ahold of your thighs again. “you always say that but you didn’t use your safe word so i know you’re lyin’.”

you sort of just warble, feet dangling in the air. your toes, painted a pretty pink gel polish, curl and straighten with each movement hobie makes, even if it’s just him leaning forward.

“gonna tell me i’m wrong?” hobie’s voice drops into a whisper. he’s close enough for his lips to skim across your cheek, breath warming the surface of your skin.

he’s pleased to see a small shake of your head. “no,” you’re telling him wordlessly, round eyes staring right into his more slanted ones. you’re lucky he’s considered being sweeter on such a day of celebration.

“no? then you’re gonna quit your whinnin’, right?” his hand comes to plant on the round crest of your head, flattening your scalp, frizzy due to the physical activity he’s put you through.

your leg goes to circle around his slim waist, locking his body to yours. “mhm . . . ‘m sorry, ‘bie.” you’re much softer now, more pliant without the constant push and pull inside your sensitive cunt. your circle your hands around his cheeks, brushing your thumb across the smooth, seal brown skin across his face.

the corners of his mouths lift; he finalizes your gentleness with a sloppy kiss on your mouth, wrapping his tongue around yours and sucking it into his mouth. there is stringy saliva connecting the two of you. his hand atop your head serves its purpose when hobie finally begins to move again, thrusting deep in your cunt. it keeps you right where he wants you despite your wriggling.

his other hand supports his weight, jumbling the sheets between his fingers. his head falls onto the bed beside yours and you have a front row seat to the groans and pants he exudes, lost in your body.

every year when your birthday comes around, hobie picks you up, bring you to his house, and showers you in love and affection throughout the night. he makes dinner, lights your birthday candles, and watches any movies of your choice.

every year, he surprises you with a gift he had planned for months and pulls it from his super secret hiding spot. he soaks in your flattery with a grin until you’re done and putting the new gift to use.

and every year, you both wrestle in the sheets, naked bodies connected at the most intimate parts as the air grows thick and heavy with lust. he kisses you through your whines and cries, forcing blinding white orgasms out your body until you’re exhausted and tapping out.

[onyourhyuck]

Sweater Weather. | J.JH (M)

prologue- “Sorry I talk too much didn’t I?” + “No no no, Not at all. Keep talking.”

tw- friends brother x fem y/n , sungchan is Jaehyun’s younger brother. y/n is tutoring Sungchan. fluff. Y/n has a big crush on Jae and he finds it rly cute. Hyper talkative girl x boy who always listens. Potential smut in part 2 if this fic does well.

notes- tbh I was listening to sweater weather and I thought about a sweet shy girl who’s acc talkative and has lots to say but nobody ever listened to her </3

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You’re a freshmen at uni, a quietly soft spoken young student who wants to at least survive first year without dying from stress.

Everyone at campus knows how smart you are, hell you’re one of the students who gets full hundred on every subject, it shocks many to see your report card every year. Teachers love you and adore you.

Which is why when Sungchan one day approaches you by the lockers he immediately pleads for your help to solve his one life crisis problem— calculus class.

He said he will pay you fifteen a hour and that is why you agreed, but then something else played a huge part in your decision. It was his older brother who graduated this year, Jung Jaehyun. You never met him, but you surely heard a lot about him despite Jaehyun graduating not that long ago. The man was practically a legend at your campus. He had perfect grades, perfect attendance, he got all his degrees and ended up becoming really successful at whatever he’s doing now. Teachers go absolutely mental about him. He was a prodigy. Jaehyun even won a champion cup for the team’s football.

Now you weren’t going to lie, he was attractive, his face school photos were posted on the wall students of honour with every year a new student was picked out. Y/n day dreams about meeting such a perfect guy, hell now’s her chance. Sungchan needs her help and well Y/n can meet her idol..if that’s what you could call him.

So now you’re sitting on Sungchan’s bed composing yourself because you are settling into the background fact that you are— in a boy’s house for the first time since you could remember. You clear your throat when Sungchan comes back with a glass of cold iced water, he sits down on the bed next to you as he hands you it.

“Thank you for tutoring me y/n, I know it was really weird to ask because we aren’t close at all.” The boy tells and you shake your head politely sipping the cold beverage down. “I’m glad to help you out so it’s nothin’ don’t worry about it.”

He smiles nodding. “Thanks again.”

“So… what exactly are you struggling in calculus?” You put the glass down on the beside table so it wouldn’t bother both of you when studying. Y/n crawls on the bed crossing her legs as you watch Sungchan who opens the math text book rubbing the back of his long mullet hair from behind.

The boy looks like a confused lost bambi who knows nothing. Which wasn’t a good sign for Y/n but nothing hard can’t be overcome without practice.

“How about, everything?…”

You bite your bottom lip watching the boy who smiles dumbly. You nod slowly looking down at the identical text book except that one was yours. Your voice croaks out into jambles. “Well let’s start from the very beginning then.” This was no ordinary task it seems.

Sungchan nods with a grin. “Alright professor y/n.”

The two kept themselves busy talking amongst themselves solely about the subject. The girl was quite firm with her way of teaching though she never meant to be harsh and blunt, there wasn’t any way to put out and explain such a subject in nicer terms. In other words, there wasn’t any way to sugar coat it. Calculus was a very blunt subject, not everyone will be guaranteed to get it on first try— Y/n was simply just one of the few percentages who did get it by a click of a thumb.

It was fascinating though. Sungchan could start to get the areas he struggled with and that was definitely an improvement in this long session. There was something about the way that he found Y/n teaching was way more easier and simpler to understand than half of the teachers actually teaching at the campus. He felt truly relieved to see him figuring some of the problems on his own.

“I think I’m getting it.” Sungchan exclaims loudly with a vicarious smile, standing up from his bed and stretching. “Let’s take a short break, I really need to go to the toilet.”

Y/n nods as she looks at the time on her phone screen. 5.00pm. You could sacrifice three more hours here before going home. You let out a sigh as Sungchan opens the door.

“Oh by the way y/n if you need anything just ask. I’ll be right back okay?”

Sungchan left the room and this was probably where you’re trespassing on grounds you shouldn’t be. You stood up from the bed and left the bedroom, you make your way into the kitchen to explore. I mean surely, a little exploring wouldn’t hurt right?

Plus it’s not like you’re up to no good. You’re innocently wondering about to stretch your legs. Yes that was exactly it.

“You’re Sungchan’s friend right?”

A deep voice struck you from behind causing your feet to slip and turn on the heels, immediately met with a familiar face you could only see on picture but now it was face to face. He was breathing the same air as you. Y/n raises her eyes in surprise.

“O-oh.” You stutter out, mind went blank and you were unable to think of what to reply. Jaehyun closes the front door as he took his shoes off, seemingly back from work it looks like. Jaehyun turns to face y/n again. “You’re y/n I believe?”

How does he know my name, you exclaim in your head. Your idol knows your name. Y/n practically felt her legs tremble a little, she’s more than sure jaehyun took notice of that too.

“Uhm, yeah that’s me. Hi.” You awkwardly wave. He gives a kind smile at your very visible abnormal gesture.

He looks around loudly speaking in the hallways. Their modern apartment complex was really spacious but closed all in together making it perfect to make short trips between each room, it never felt claustrophobic. “Sungchan! I’m home.”

Jaehyun reveals. The door slams open with Sungchan running out the bathroom with wet hands as he dried them on his shorts.

“Hyung! Hey, you met y/n.” He grins ear to ear as he wraps an arm around your shoulder on the side. You give a soft smile as Jaehyun looks at his brother and you looking real comfy in the embrace.

“I did meet y/n. You never told me she was really pretty.” Jaehyun trails and Sungchan looks at y/n with one eyebrow raised. “I didn’t really pay attention to that. Uh hyung!” He calls out again.

“Did you know y/n is a prodigy in my class just like you were?”

Jaehyun stops midway as he turns to eye y/n up and down. He visible could see right through your body as if it was an open x-Ray for open visiting to view. You mentally could curse out Sungchan because the title enough was as pressuring to keep up with standards but nevertheless, to be called a prodigy was also really a knockout for y/n.

She wasn’t really successful she was just doing good at classes. In other words she’s a big geeky nerd who has no life but to study so she’s doing what she has to do to make her parents proud. Since she never came from a rich family she doesn’t have much hope from other people’s expectations. So might as well make it big career wise.

Especially if she cannot get a boyfriend… hell even a girlfriend alone itself. Y/n truly believes she’s destined to be alone and die alone. She even told herself that she will end her family’s bloodline because she’s an only child and there’s no way she will get married with the amount of social skills she has let along flirting skills. She has no bitches.

Plus. No one has ever called her pretty before. Jaehyun was the first one to ever do so. You grit yourself teeth together forcing out a soft laugh as you spat words of confusion at the boy only audible to him.

“What. Are. You. Saying. Sungchan-”

The boy clears his throat. “It’s true. Your report cards are seriously the best of the best in our year.” Jaehyun hums walking forward as he leans down to take a closer look at y/n. The girl took one step back slowly to keep a decent distance gap between the tall man who was eyeing her out of sudden.

“It’s really nice to see another prodigy other than myself.” Jaehyun softly tells. He reaches his hand on your head petting it down the head lovingly, with a praise leaning his soft pale baby pink lips. “Good job y/n, keep up the good work for four years and you’ll definitely get somewhere.”

No one has ever praised you before, not even your parents, at least not in a way jaehyun just did. usually you’d get a good work or well done, but nothing so detailed to the point it made your body shut down as well as your brain. You felt your eyes eyelashes curl, your lips prickle with excitement unable to hide the happy smile because when those words hit your ears they begin to perk up like a happy dog would when wagging their tail. Your round apple cheeks squirm, the way your voice increased up one or two octaves.

Jaehyun saw light enter your light amber brown eyes and he just knew from the moment he complimented you, you were probably the most happiest human.

Sungchan clears his throat bringing Y/n into reality where she broke eye contact with the older man to look at the boy who had his hand wrapped tight. “Y/n you might need to help me with English too..I’ll pay you extra.”

you hawk your eyes at Sungchan. You were sure if you could stay for that long, but if the boy was really struggling then there was little to no choice here. You mutter.

“Okay but i’ll need to let my mum know about that.” You nervously smile. “You see I was supposed to home by at least round 7.00”

Jaehyun scolds the young boy quick. “Yah don’t tell me you didn’t think about her personal life.” Sungchan clears his voice. “Of course I did…I really need help with English too I just realised.”

You were quick to defend Sungchan even though staying over at Sungchan’s house any longer was surely going to kill you inside and out knowing that jaehyun is home now; your heart wasn’t sure if it could handle being anything near the man now. “I- I mean I can handle it.”

Jaehyun would tut his lips sealing them together. It looks like he had a lot to say but he didn’t bother speaking it out freely. Sungchan drags you back into his room where you two started working on English. Knowing the amount of time you guys have spared before you had to go was enough to push the younger boy to his limits to know the basics.

As you were working with Sungchan your thoughts were flooded with many distractions; all of those happening to do with Jaehyun, surprising right?

The boy murmurs a few nonsense lines that you blocked out of your head until Sungchan was constantly shouting your name now.

“Y/n? Helloooo, earth to y/nnnn.”

Nothing but a dazedly eyes looking in the distance with a lovestruck smile and heart eyes growing back to the moment jaehyun seemingly praised you for your hard work that you were blindly doing just because it seemed like it was the best choice.

Sungchan exclaims loudly. “Y/n! Wake up.”

Y/n flinches at the raise of his voice turning round to him with a soft ‘huh’ coming out your lips. You blink a few times as Sungchan motions to the English text book and you clear your voice.

“God y/n what were you deeply thinking about?” Sungchan scolds quietly. You rub your neck anxiously, couldn’t help but think to yourself, your hot ass brother.

“I was just dozing off into dream land. Anyways, that word means beautiful.” You trail pointing your thumb on the textbook. Sungchan would ‘ooh’ as you silently go back to teaching him again. Until a knock would be heard and Sungchan turns to the door, groaning. “Come in hyung.” He tells.

the door creams half ajar open before slowly revealing the tall figure in a white tank top revealing his muscular arms as well as broad shoulders, grey sweatpants that were loosely fitting round his crotch and legs area. He had messy brushed out hair and his face was hauntingly gorgeously pale with soft pinkish lips and brown piercing eyes ready to launch and pierce y/n’s heart in half.

Jaehyun leans on the doorframe with one hand as he relaxes the other under his tank top shirt, scratching his milk-chiselled abs he slowly reveals.

“So since y/n is staying over for tonight. What do you guys want to eat?” He really pin printed the conversation on you to be honest, jae knows well Sungchan would eat anything. Sungchan looks over at the girl who shyly looks down.

“I’ll eat anything that Sungchan wants to eat.” Y/n mentions. Jaehyun hums. “Don’t be shy if you want something you can go and get it. I’m already grateful for the fact that you’re taking your entire free day to tutor my helpless brother.”

Sungchan pouts hearing his brother as he immediately shoos him out. “Ah hyung you really don’t need to mean smack talk me with her.” Jaehyun grins as he pushes Sungchan out of his way. “Ay come on, also go and make something to eat then because y/n will eat whatever you’ll eat.”

Sungchan nods as he left without a complaint to go and sort something out for dinner. This means that jaehyun would be left alone with y/n. Just the thought of this left the girl wondering scenarios… so many scenarios in her head.

The man slowly approaches on the edge as he sits on Sungchan’s bed with y/n next to her. He grabs with his hands softly y/n’s english journal where she keeps all her work from classes in. He would flicker through the pages as he was analysing everything from the first page to the very last which would be recent.

The handwriting was pretty cursive and jaehyun couldn’t help but think that the girl was really organised, pretty handwriting and hella smart. He had to admit she was determined and for someone who’s lived in America for four years, she was pretty skilled in English— especially because she never been to America once in her life.

Y/n shyly looks down at her fiddling thumbs before jaehyun puts her book down. He soon expressed approval in his lingering deep husky voice.

“You’re really impressive you know that, y/n?” He turns to the quiet girl who said nothing but nod. Jaehyun couldn’t help but be intrigued and pulled further to getting to know the young girl. “What do you want to be when you’re older?”

He asked such a long deep question that y/n herself was still trying to figure out. She just wants to be someone successful maybe someone important too. Because if anything she didn’t feel special once in her life until she met jaehyun,

He makes her feel good inside and outside. He saw y/n start to contemplating the question as her voice begins to waver.

“Uhm well, someone successful and important I guess.” She murmurs. “I guess I’ll be whatever my parents want me to be.”

Jaehyun tilts his head. “But won’t that be your parents and not yourself?” The man guessed and the girl lightly shrugs.

He was right in many ways. It wouldn’t really be her dream or her life if she was to follow her parents choices. She sits up straight and Jaehyun was quick to ask again, another deep question.

“I’m going to ask again. What do you really want, yn?”

“I want to be someone’s special someone. I never really experienced a relationship and it would be nice to have someone that loves me as much as I love them. Plus, i was alone most of my childhood so it wouldn’t hurt to have a person who’s sorta like my safe place..?”

In reality you really only need someone who would understand you on an emotional level that you could spend the rest of your life with. You’re an old child with busy parents who always worked to make a living for you. Growing up poor was hard enough. Now you’re doing everything to become rich but in all Saint truth,

You were really just needing someone to love you. Jaehyun gives a reassuring smile as he reaches to softly stroke your head as you look down unable to make enough of a long eye contact with Jaehyun. He hums in awe.

Then you realised that you basically dumped your deep rooting problems on a guy you just met. Y/n was quick to turn to Jaehyun with defensive hands shaking them softly.

“Sorry I talk too much didn’t I?” Y/n insists forward as her eyes were droopy eyed feeling like a massive burden. Jaehyun was quick to protest as he wraps his hands with y/n’s interlocking them. Reassuring her slowly.

“No no no, Not at all. Keep talking.” Jaehyun smiles watching the girl slowly come out of the shell. She might seem like a timid little fragile thing, but he swears there is so much more underneath the first impressions he’s getting. People just haven’t been making effort to get to know this wonderful person.

You felt as if jaehyun just understood you. You didn’t feel judged and this made you feel…so much more comfortable round him.

There was something so pleasant to hear her speak and jaehyun for a moment believed he were bewitched by your sweet longing voice.

“How do you feel about going on a trip with me and Sungchan down to my family’s private villa?”

Y/n blinks looking forward at the man in front, half confused if she heard him correctly but when her eyes didn’t deceive her she slowly gasps. Jaehyun couldn’t help but chuckle hearing her reaction as well as seeing it. It was..innocently cute.

“I- me? At your private villa? Oh no that’s… too much to accept.” You mutter out confused. He scoffs gently. “Who said so? Plus I want to get to know you more. I promise it’s not going to be intimidating.”

You purse your lips into a thin line. “If..Sungchan says yes then I’ll go.”

Jaehyun smiles ear to ear. “Deal.”

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@onyourhyuck please refer from translating copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank youu<3 pls reblog this fic it helps a girl out and follow me for more to stay updated for more fics.

I’m sorry but shy girls who are actually super hyperactive and talkative when comfortable are the cutest. I don’t make the rules up. Who else wants a PART 2? If you do Lemme know bc I actually enjoyed writing this <3

[blushyeleven]

pls do a Reneé rapp x reader story or Regina x reader PLEASE

I acc had a lot of fun writing this fic😭 so I hope you guys enjoy!!

characters: lee!y/n, ler!reneé

warnings: tickles

summary: Reneé and y/n get into a mini argument while y/n gets in a lee mood and Reneé tries to get them to forgive her

𝑲𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒐𝒏 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍

Reneè was sat on the other end of the sofa, on her phone, busying herself and distracting herself from the loud obnoxious silence that was lingering in the air like a bad smell.

See, a few moments earlier you two had a squabble, a silly bicker, over your plans for this evening. You wanted to go out to a club.. spend some time with your girlfriend and your friends and just let loose while drinking to your hearts content.. without a care in the world. Whereas Reneé had the idea of spending the evening cuddled up, watching films. On a normal day Reneé loved partying, loving the blasting music and getting so drunk that your visual became paralleled. And also normally, you wouldn’t put up a fight staying at home with her. As much as you preferred to go out, you also equally loved the nights you two spent in your own company. Cuddled up on the sofa, ordering takeaway and binge watching whatever Rom-com you wanted. It sounded basic and overdone, but you didn’t care. Aslong as you were in Reneé’s company. Although, the fact you had this planned since last week.. with all your friends on board.. timing, outift, everything. And Reneé for some unknown reason decided otherwise.. last minute. Ofcourse she insisted you go without her, not wanting to cause your plans to collapse because of her. But you, being the stubborn, clingy girlfriend you were.. refused to go without her. You two came as a package deal after all.. wherever you saw Reneé.. you were also there. And vice-versa. But you both liked it like that. Having the sense of contentment knowing that your favourite person was always with you. Yet, tonight.. there was a small mishaps in your brilliantly executed plan. this is where you two butted heads.

Instead of talking it out and coming to a compromise, you both came to the unspoken agreement that you were both going to sit in silence. Avoiding it. Avoiding the conversation, knowing it was pointless anyway.

That was until you heard a soft sigh, you didn’t even bother to look up.. until you heard the gentle, loving voice that you adored. “You can’t still be mad at me” Reneé said, temporarily looking over to see you still curled up in the corner. Shielding yourself. “I don’t want to talk about it” you admitted stubbornly. Still watching the tv. “Listen, im sorry okay? Im just too tired tonight” She said, rubbing her hand against her face in slight irritation for your poor attempt at cooperation. “and I said it’s fine, I’m not going either.” you replied blankly, zero expression or emotion behind your words. Reneé couldn’t decide what she hated more, the fact she disappointed you or the fact you tried to act like you didn’t care.

“hey, don’t be like that” she had a hint of sympathy in her tone as she shuffled closer. While you we’re still remaining in your ball of self protection. Was it a little bit petty that you practically refused to even look at her over this?.. maybe. Although the majority of this was because you were mad at her.. you also had been struck with needy mood. The mood were you craved.. tickles. And Reneé obviously knew about these moods and tickled you senseless all the time, she knew it made you happy, it brought you joy. It made you smile. And who was she to deny that right from her precious girlfriend? Also on top of the fact she found it adorable. The way something so simple and easy made you feel all happy and smiley. She would be lying if she didn’t say she also loved the way you couldn’t help but giggle.. every time.She couldn’t get enough of the sweet and adorable sound. Plus the way you squirmed and the incoherent sentences that you giggled out. And the way it left you all affectionate and clingy afterwards. She made it very known that it was her favourite activity. Although you never admitted out-loud when you were in these moods.. overtime Reneé picked up quickly on the symptoms. Being quiet, a little whiny and a touch of brattiness were the three major ones.. and the ones you were displaying very clearly In front of her.

Reneé sighed again, seeing your quiet and vulnerable state. “Is there anything I can do to make you forgive me?” She asked simply, her eyes drifting over your curled up body. Well, that question made your ears perk up. Yes, yes there was something that she could do. But being as difficult as always you gave her a blank shrug and turned your face into the pillow to hide to hide your small smile. This small action gave Reneé a glimmer of hope, a pause in the awkward, hushed atmosphere. As she raised a brow with a small smile of her own, but it was playful. “hm, okay fine by me.. be difficult then” there was a noticeable edge of teasing in her tone.. as she shuffled closer. sitting on her knees right next to you. “But I think I know exactly what you want” and with that, her hand reached out to your side giving it a light poke.. causing you to dig your face further into the pillow.. muffling your squeak. although the instinctive jump that followed after the poke wasn’t hide-able.

In spite the fact you were faced away from Reneé, you could practically feel her burning smirk as she poked you again.. and again and then released a flurry of pokes against your side. Warming up to the bigger attack. You bit your lip trying to force back any giggles that may escape as you twitched and put your hands out to push at hers. Reneé still smirked down at you, rolling her eyes playfully. “oh come on, you’re never normally this difficult” which was a part lie and she knew it, you loved being complicated during being tickled. It was your way off being bratty. For example, your personal favourite was your constant insistence that you’re not ticklish before melting into a giggle fit everytime. It was more of a way to say ‘I’m ticklish, but still prove me wrong’ and Reneé knew that, but obviously always ‘fell for it’

Nonetheless, she added her other pointer finger from her other hand to the equation, doubling over on the amount of sporadic pokes as it became increasingly harder for you to hide your reactions.

A few more twitches and jumps later; soft, quiet and muffled giggles were heard as you slowly gave in. Knowing you were fighting a losing battle. “Oh? what’s this?” She asked rhetorically, her smirk or her attack never faltering. She already knew she won.. but she couldn’t stop there. “shuhut uhuhup!” You squeaked out, obviously Reneé wasn’t going to let that slide. “oh that’s how it’s going to be is it?” she asked again, her all time favourite way of teasing you was asking you rhetorical questions that she knew you never had an answer to. And because you were still hiding your face.. she decided to sit so her legs were hanging off the sofa and grab you by both your sides, placing you carefully in her lap. But never ceasing the tickles as her hands immediately came crashing back down to your sides, scribbling at them. Causing you to let out another ear-splitting shriek before giggling helplessly and kicking your legs like a toddler.

“ihihim stihihill mahahad ahat yohou!” You spoke incoherently. “hmm, I don’t think you are, I think the only thing your mad about is how you can’t resist me tickling you” your face reacted with a obvious blush, spreading across your cheeks. Mainly because she was right. As much as you pretended to still be mad at her it was hard when you were smiling and giggling. “I mean, I would have thought atleast you would have done a better job at pretending to be mad, but here you are smiling and giggling, you just can’t help it, can you, baby?” She added. Why did she have to be so good at this?! Reneé knew exactly what to say to tease you and get a reaction. And it worked. every. single. time. “Reheheneheheee!!” You said, squirming in her lap more. “yes?” She replied, still with her infamous smirk. See, you had no reason for calling her name.. you just felt like you had to say something. “stohohohohoppp!” Was the best thing you could come up with. although that request was far from what you wanted.. and it was obvious by the smile plastered on your face.

“hm..” Reneé said.. acting as if she was even considering it “no” she added shortly after with a cheeky smile, changing her wiggling fingers to your stomach, digging and scurrying her acrylic nails across it as your shirt bunched up beneath her fingers.She continued to tickle you though it was obvious you weren’t mad at her anymore, you forgave her as soon as she delivered the first poke. At this point she was just tickling you because she could see how much you were so clearly enjoying it. “I cahahahanttt!!” You giggled out, kicking your legs and squirming around helplessly in her lap.

Your whines and useless protests were only fuelling Reneé to continue as she wrapped her arm around your midsection, restricting your squirming as she dug her hands into your armpits as your giggles rocketed into squeaky, high pitched laughter. “HEHEHEHEYY!!” You said, kicking your legs more frantically as the giggles poured out freely to the point it was uncontrollable. “your genuinely the most ticklish person I’ve ever met.. I’m not complaining though” Reneé giggled herself, just watching you practically struggle to contain yourself. “THAHATS A BIHIT DRAHAHAMATIC!!” You squeaked as her nails kept mercilessly clawing into your armpits. Your statement caused Reneé to look down at you with a raised brow and a playful smile “I don’t think it is..” she replied in a sing-song voice, continuing to wreck you and tickle you senseless.

Untill your giggles became a bit more desperate and it was a tail-tell sign to her that you were reaching your limit. So she began to slow down to a hault. Observing as your giggles soften as you still had some left over from her relentless assault. Try as you might, you couldn’t wipe off the smile off your face as you remain cuddled up in her lap.

Reneé’s smile softened before she spoke up “hey.. how about we compromise?” You then looked up at her, your own eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You got so lost in the amazing tickling sensation that you forgot all about your little tiff with her earlier “how about we cuddle up now so I can have a nap.. and then we can go out later” your confused expression melted into a smile, a soft smile. “are you sure?” you asked, trying to contain your excitement. “ofcourse” she nodded a smile of her own. “I love you.” you said, still looking up at her. “I love you more baby” she said and planted a small kiss on your lips.

[muwapsturniolo]

so there’s this girl in my class (white pale ass italian white girl) who keeps saying the nword. and not just like nigga like with a hard R too !!! and idk what to do about it. Like i’m not one to start fights and yell at people but it’s truly taking everything in me not to beat her ass up but again it’s exam season soon i’m changing schools and won’t see her again but it’s truly bothering me like so so much but i just don’t know how to confront her about it (i’m black btw 😭😭)

like she said it to my face during class and i was so flabbergasted and appalled like my brain barely has time to register what the fuck had happened before she asked me “does it bother you ? when i say that ??” and i didn’t have time to process it i just walked away from her speechless bc WHAT THE FUCK ?!?! and idk what her lonely brain cell told her but she most likely thinks i don’t mind and let it slide bc i didn’t answer her the first time, so now she’s just yelling it off every roof.

Like i said i’m not one to yell and cause fights or arguments out of nowhere but it’s genuinely annoying me and it pisses me off how i can’t fucking call her out bc i’m too much of a pussy 💀 like girl it’s acc not that hard 💀💀

(also her best friend is a BLACK MAN !!! and he doesn’t say shit either ?!?! like i’m not her friend. she’s the girl who goes up to the quiet kids talking bout “youre my best friend!!” BS yk ??)

Anyways please send help idk what to do but i can’t let her just say that casually !!!!

just waiting for her to say it in front of the wrong person and get her ass dragged bc lord knows i’m not that person

Record her saying it and send it to the school, post it on Facebook, send it to her parents, and I would send it to colleges she’s going to :) I am the bitch who will fuck your whole life up so that’s my advice personally 😭😭

[antichildeismoving]

sugarbaby!reader / tartaglia and la signora (sfw)

gn!reader has caught the attention of not one but TWO of the Fatui Harbingers. These are based off notes I took for my Signora/reader/Tartaglia multi chapter. If you’re interested in it there’s an much more nsfw preview on my acc, just scroll down a bit.

content warning: yandere vibes, manipulation, isolation.

Signora and Tartaglia have never worked well together, so when they both fall for you it’s a disaster.

You find yourself torn between two of the most powerful people in Teyvat. Any private life you might’ve had evaporates as Liyue’s tabloids and storytellers focus in on you.

Soon enough, Mondstadt’s newspapers pick up the story too after one of their journalists questions Signora’s frequent trips out of the city.

You’re pretty sure that Signora likes fueling the gossip. When starts to take a toll on your relationships with friends and family, and you begin to suspect that this may be her way of trapping you.

(You’re right in thinking that Signora is leaking information to the press, but her real motive for doing so is just to piss off Childe.) and also because she’s an exhibitionist

Tartaglia is blissfully ignorant to the attention. He’s smart— there’s no way he’d have lasted this long as a harbinger if he weren’t— but it seems as if he can be willfully oblivious when it’s convenient.

(Yes, Childe is ignoring the publicity on purpose. He doesn’t want Signora to know how much it bothers him.)

Weirdly enough they have very similar taste in clothing, so they always end up buying you duplicate items and then sulking about it. You’ve suggested to each that maybe they should try to coordinate their gifts instead, but neither seems particularly enthusiastic about the idea.

Tartaglia is sweet with you and surprisingly gentle. He can be a bit shy about PDA, and when you ask him about it he reveals that you’re his first romantic partner.

This throws you for a loop because: a) Childe is incredibly handsome, b) he’s in his mid twenties, and c) apparently you were his first kiss.

Signora is pretty much the opposite. She’s a very sensual person and will keep her hands on you at all times during a date. Also, she loves getting caught with you in compromising situations (again, exhibitionism).

But you can’t even call what she does public displays of affection because even now she’s incredibly aloof.

It’s weird. The whole thing is weird. You’ve wanted out for months but it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen any time soon.

Maybe it’s time to start looking at witness protection. In the meantime, enjoy having your bills paid for you!

[milimeters-morales]

me rambling about gender for some versions of miles (both canon and au) under the cut

movie miles1610B (non-binary transfem) is the most realistic and expected (imo) when it comes to a teen boy realizing she might be a teen something-else, and there are societal pressures + spider-man pressures + parental pressures + natural high anxiety levels that really add onto why she’s so hesitant and takes the longest to accept and be okay with being trans herself. she’s fine with other trans people, it’s specifically a her thing. She sees gender as just a part of life, something she’s always had, but as she learns more and more, she realizes it is a performance, and she can do whatever she wants, which ends up circling back to looking how she normally does most of the time. really simplified version but you’d have to go through my older posts for more in depth explanations for movie miles specifically. Sometimes i think of Miles being intersex too, but i don’t know enough about the types to be really confident in that hc so it’s more of an exploring starting point whenever i feel like deep diving.

comic miles (cis-genderless) would describe himself as a cis male, but only because that’s what he was assigned at birth, completely uncaring of literally anything else. He’s connected to it because that’s what he was labeled as when he was born, and how he’s connected to the people in his life, but he himself doesn’t see it as anything really important. He’s his parents’ son, he’s his uncle’s nephew, he’s someone’s boyfriend, he’s the “strange boy” to a stranger, he’s the “black dude”, and though he hates that his race has anything to do with his connection to being male, it unfortunately shapes him. To himself, he is just Miles! If someone referred to him with more feminine language, he would be shocked but not totally weirded out, it depended on intent. He’s not open about this either bc he doesn’t see it as something important to share, but Ganke and Kenneth would be the first to know if he cared to tell. if he had a spidey social media acc he would have he/they in the pronouns section

playstation miles (questioning non-binary) is diff between the two games he’s mainly in, mostly because he figured out he was non-binary ages ago and was ready to come out, but so many things have happened in a short amount of time, which basically shoved him back into the closet. He was going to come out to his parents, but then his father died, and miles had this subconscious worry about now being the “man” of the house that his mother could also rely on so she wouldn’t have to grieve alone, and to prove that he could handle his own grief as well. his grief made him forget his own gender struggles for a time, and Roxxon, Phin’s death, Aaron’s reveal, it all stacked up and he was just “fine i’m not non-binary anymore i can’t deal with another huge thing!!” Now, in SM2, he was vaguely considering it again, because it felt so right before his father died, and things seem to be going okay lately, but you know how that went. Kraven capturing him also hurt the masculine parts of himself that he liked, so throw that into the fire. He only really feels he has time after the events of SM2, but is hesitant to come out or talk to anyone about it, because he just isn’t sure and doesn’t want to seem like he’s faking, so he just stews for now. It does bother him a lot and he experiences dysphoria in the “wish i didn’t have a human body” way. poor non-binary essential worker :(

e-42 miles (agender) is right after this instead of with movie miles because of how similar he is to playstation miles and comic miles. However, he is completely ignoring it to the point where he almost forgets it entirely, because he cares so little. His remaining family and fighting to make the world even slightly better is all he really cares about, so something like gender, including being regarded as a “son” and “nephew”, mean nothing, it’s about the bond rather than the label people give to it. He doesn’t feel this pressure of not feeling like he can tell his mom or uncle, it’s more of a “i might be non-binary but i have a job rn so i don’t really care about that” thing for him. However, he doesn’t like being referred to in any feminine way, and likes neutral/masculine language.

acau miles (complicated) is definitely not cis but autism + trauma recovery makes him view himself as “not human not animal just miles and spider-man!” so unlabeled spiderthing is where he’s at. Their pronouns got lost in the wash. It missed its gender orientation. Actually, Miles doesn’t use pronouns past 9pm: Get Fucked, Well-Meaning Citizen! Also, she doesn’t understand why some people get so worked up and invested with gender and pronouns, but he does sometimes say very rude and offensive things to Peter even before learning he’s trans because of what he’s heard growing up and what it knows that generally pisses men off. Matt and Aaron are working on making him less of a personified CoD lobby dw… it’s just gonna take a bit lol. doesn’t help that Peter returns the insults in full and encourages it against others sometimes

[6gumi]

⋆.˚ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐒 — 𝑴𝑰𝑺𝑺 𝑹𝑼𝑩𝑰 !

⊹ --- 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 .

my blog is an nsfw + dark content blog. (also sfw) meaning minors + ageless blogs get the hell out !! <3 + you must have your age somewhere on ur acc to indicate that you aren’t a minor !!

i often use petnames for both anons n my precious lil mutuals <3 so if you are one of my mutuals n uncomfy w it . . please do lmk ! other than that, keep that fact in mind !

please DO NOT SPAM-LIKE my posts otherwise you’ll get blocked. sorry not sorry. (4x in a row without reblogging or commenting), do not bring discourse here, most importantly do not bother sending hate asks. it will be deleted.

you can most definitely send an ask to be mutuals and i’ll check your page just in case! but please do not be forceful w me when asking.

i’m a little slow n stupid, if you want to break the mutual or i make you uncomfortable please feel free to hard-block me. i’m slow n i can’t tell if i’ve been soft blocked, so please feel free to hard-block me so we don’t make things awkward between the both of us

i age up some of the characters i write for. if that doesn’t satisfy you, then don’t interact with my blog completely and just block me

i can guarantee that i have a very broken posting schedule, so requests may not be done immediately as sometimes i get overwhelmed. so, please don’t take it the wrong way when you see that i haven’t fulfilled your request yet. i just have a very unstable posting schedule ! keep that in mind but i will try my very best to do your requests + thirsts !

english is not my first language so sometimes my grammar can be messed up at times, don’t pay too much attention on my terrible grammar i’m working on it !!

i openly interact with dark content and nsfw content, i will tag them if needed.

useful tags: TAGS HERE.

⋆.˚ 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓. 𝐆𝐎 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘 !

absolutely do not interact with me if you’re a ZIONIST, a minor (obvi), homophobic, transphobic, racist, ableist, misogynistic, fit the rest of the basic dni criteria, send hate asks / spread hate for literally no reason, or you’re just a rude person in general. in this blog, my blog = my rules. i’m willing to block anyone who oversteps my boundaries or make me feel uncomfortable or sends me unnecessary hate. i kindly ask for you guys to respect me as a whole, that’s all i’m asking for.

absolutely don’t interact if you support isr𝟒𝐞𝐥

⋆.˚ 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒 .

once again i am a multifandom blog, i write for multiple fandoms (honkai star rail, jujutsu kaisen, blue lock mostly + maybe chainsaw man genshin impact + bungo stray dogs also) my requests are open at the moment, thirsts are always opened so i prefer if you send more thirsts than requests.

another thing i’d like to mention . . . i can guarantee that i will not write for npcs :,> & i would prefer writing requests that interest me . . . please don’t be too detailed !

WHAT I ABSOLUTELY WON’T WRITE — gore, scat, necrophilia, noncon (everything i write is strictly consensual.) foot fetish, armpit fetish, vomit, and vore as well.

some dark content things i may write is stepcest, consensual somno, “yandere”/ obsessive themes etc etc. i’ll be sure to tag a few things as well to let you guys know.

i do NOT condone to these things irl in real life. please keep that in mind ! these things are fiction . . . fiction does not equal reality :)

and that’s about it. go crazy with your requests + thirsts as long as they aren’t detailed or written as something i don’t / will not be writing. ^-^ it is encouraged that you ask first if you’re unsure about something !

thank you for reading bbies ! here is my masterlist

[jgracie]

{event}

hello cynthia 👹

i was wondering if i could get a iv. to all the boys i've loved before ?

it’s fine if you cannot ☺️

personally i’m not actually sure of my sexuality so i don’t care male or female

um what do i say

i make plans, and procrastinate so i don’t do it

peolple say i’m stubborn

probably

i love reading (ignore the fact i have actually read a book in like two weeks 😭)

i have a small obsession with jason (it’s not small at ALL)

i love to eat but im picky as hell AND I CANT COOK

burnt fucking noodles of all things 😖

anyway i love tea and coffee so much

i could practically open up a coffee shop

omg with pastries 😩

im very determined (hence stubborn)

ok i can’t think of anything else

love ya 💝

TO ALL THE BOYS I’VE LOVED BEFORE LUKE CASTELLAN + RIVALS TO LOVERS ˚⟡˖ ࣪

i know u said u love jason but you have to hear me out on this one fr 😫

you probably find him rly annoying cz he likes to tease you for your inability to cook but at the same time also being picky (would def tell you to "pick a struggle" LOL)

you'd be reading under a tree, enjoying the nice weather then luke mf castellan shows up all "what scene in that book's making you all flustered 🤓" (they held hands after 500 pages of pining)

he brings you pastries sometimes and acc tries to make normal convo n you take them kinda confused because ??? why are you being nice yk

you're still stubborn in your hating him tho because he's annoying and he always embarrasses you in front of people (likes seeing you all worked up)

one day you're complaining to one of ur siblings ab him and theyre just like "babe are you hearing yourself i think you might have a tiny crush on this guy 😐" and thats when you realise the reason why he bothers you sm is because he likes you

so you go to the tree n he's already there n he confesses that the reason why he teases you is to get ur attention LOL and you confess that u like him too and you live happily ever after

basically you guys r wes and liz from better than the movies reincarnated