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cute-sucker · 6 months ago

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boxer!rafe holding his baby for the first time, and knowing him he made sure you had a private room and good food.

tell me why he would be so jittery though ??

୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀 ୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

boxer!rafe never had gotten as scared as he did when you had given birth.

waiting. rafe had been waiting for hours, holding a lucky charm that you had given him. the strands of the bracelet were frayed as he toyed with it, over and over again. the smell of the hospital was nauseating, and the feeling of being in a place that smelt like antibiotics and sickness made his skin crawl.

he had gotten the call that your baby was born in the middle of a fight. he was on top of a guy before someone stormed in the middle of the fight. that was uncommon, and the referee quickly had them separated before rafe realised it was your work friend, delany. she looked frantic, as she tried to mouth something.

the minute he realised what it was, he was pulling the ropes of the ring, and yelling at people to get out of the way. blood was splattered across his mouth, and his swelling knuckles stung with pain, as his sweaty t-shirt stuck to his chest.

your water broke.

he was there in minutes, swearing as he tried to close the car. he'd run into the hospital with a huff, demanding to know where you were. to be quite frank it may have been sweet to you - but it was downright scary to the nurses.

a bulky guy with blood splattered all over him, holding a silly pink baby bag. the first nurse let out an uncomfortable laugh before telling him to sit down. now, rafe would have started yelling, but there was this drumming in his heart that made him feel as if he was going to vomit.

he couldn't lose you, no, this was a critical part of all of it. he'd read those stupid books that you had gotten him about pregnancy, and how dangerous it was, and how many mothers had died and how to hold a baby, and, and-

(goddamn it, he was scared.)

"mr. cameron. would you like to come in?"

he looked up to see a nurse with a painful smile, he took a deep breath before nodding his head. rafe felt his hands shake, as he took a step inside the room.

there you were, pretty as always with that discharge night gown, and a relieved sweaty smile on your face. you look so calm, but his eyes zone on your hands. the baby isn't in your hands, and he found himself wondering where the baby was, but he watched you get up to touch him.

"hey, hey baby. calm down. you need to stay like that," he muses, coming closer to rub your shoulders. you close your eyes, a soft gasp coming out of your mouth.

rafe gives you a soft peck on the shoulder, "why didn't you call me?" he whispers in that gentle tone of his. you squirm, peeling open your eyes with those pleading doe eyes,.

"i didn't want to bother you. i knew-" you gasped out, "i knew you had that important match and shit, and i don't know i thought it was like a bad time-"

rafe cursed, "didn't i tell you it was the two of us together? i shoulda' been there for you. shoulda' have held your hand through this shit-" and he knew he's going on a tangent as your lip wobbled and he quickly licked his lips while shaking his head.

"nah, it doesn't matter now. aw, my sweet girl did this all by herself. let me," he muttered, rubbing tears off your cheeks, "where's the baby?" you sniffled, nuzzling your face in his hands, before pointing to the sinks where he saw a small tiny girl.

she's squirming in the nurse's hands, as she gets washed off. her tiny face is squished up as she lets out small squeals. he's struck by how small, how tiny, how he made that little thing with you.

"i-" he choked up unable to take his eyes off your baby, "thank you sweets. thank you." his head bowed down into your lap, the words like worship. he was a devout in your temple.

"here's the baby, ms. cameron."

you looked up at her, a little bundle of joy as the doctor put her in your lap. rafe felt like everything was complete, feeling his throat sting and his hands get clammy. god, what did he do to deserve this?

the baby was perfect, a tiny sweet thing and rafe's hands shook at his sides as you looked up at him with teary eyes.

"do you want to hold her?"

he swallowed hard, his voice that soft whisper you knew so well, "can i?"

you laughed something that was so sweet, ringing in his ear like a song he never wanted to end. yet, he couldn't help but look at you with approval and when he looked into your eyes all he saw was love. all he saw was the truth. finally, he reached for his baby girl, calloused hands cradling her.

he finally had found his family.

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genghisximpact · 2 years ago

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— le tags

#a. inters. ୭ #b. fotos. ୭ #c. asks. ୭ #d. tasks. ୭ #e. aesthetic. ୭ #f. extras. ୭ #g. confess. ୭ #h. eventos. ୭ #i. muse. ୭ #j. inspo. ୭

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nyashykyunnie · 3 months ago

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˗ˏˋ Jinwoo x Isekaid! Artist! Reader ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 044 ✦ ┆・

[Tw: I think this fall under depictions of depression and panic attacks. Please, if you're not in the headspace, do not read this. ]

╰┈➤ ❝ [ My Muse] ¡! ❞

Isekaing to Solo Leveling is one thing, but living in this world is just... Way too brutal for your poor heart.

Why is that? Anxiety is a major enemy.

What do you mean everyone else is living normally not having little paranoid moments that lead to panic attacks with overtaking at the possibility of a gate opening somewhere near you and monsters would come out?

Sung Jinah's school wasn't even safe. How are you gonna live?

Anyway.

You have a job to do.

Even though you just wanna spend all of your time crying in the corner of your room and praying to god to protect you when technically you aren't even religious.

But what are you to do?

It's not like Sung Jinwoo will swoop in and save you from misery.

...Hahah, if only.

You are one of his more delulu fans, like every other girl in this country— You are a big fan.

Well, except the fact that you know far more things about Jinwoo since you came from a world where he is fiction.

The flex you have is that you know how awfully adorable that petty bastard is when he was still an E-ranker. Those Jinwoo simps will never know the fact that Jinwoo has the fluffiest and softest looking cheeks ever.

Not to mention, you have all of his powers memorized to even the titles those powers have. You can name a lot of his shadows.

Of course the easiest to name are Beru, Igris, Bellion, Kaisel, Tank,.... And the easiest,... One, two, three, four.... Yeah, you get it.

But why are you being so smug? As if you 're not the same fool who secretly buys Jinwoo polaroids. Coming from this country full of fangirls is a haven for you since there is quite... The plethora of Jinwoo trinkets.

And you, being a lovestruck fool, went all in and took "Take all my money" to the next level even though the man you're obsessing over is 10x more richer than you.

But ah, this isn't the time to fawn over your Jinwoo merch paradise.

You have work.

Thankfully enough, this world has given you mercy. Despite it preying on your paranoid self, it gave you the blessing of living the life you've always wanted.

And that is to be a freelance artist.

Not doing your average 9-5, crying about the lack of fame you receive that hinders the pathway to making a successful art career, not having to listen to family members berating your love for art as low as a drug abuse.

In this world, no one is going off about your craft, no one is belittling your passion to something akin to a crime.

Like it's just a pathetic hobby and there's no meaning to all the hard work you put in the past years improving your skills, there's no value to being able to draw squares and circles more impressive than others, there's nothing note worthy of being able to pick and choose colours— There's none of that.

To be honest, there was even lots of moments where you wanted to give up, where you realized maybe they're right.

Even if you had starved yourself just to save up for your art materials, even if you work hard micro-analyzing your artstyle, even if you spent hours studying the algorithms, even if you shed blood sweat and tears just for the glimmer of hope that maybe you can turn your art into something more— It's all just delusions.

Like how you hope to be one of those big artists who inspire other people to create their own pieces. Like how you secretly hope that maybe your artworks can bring a smile to anyone's face if they come across it. Like how you silently pray to every single star that may your wish come true.

You wanted to keep hoping, for the slim chance of having a single magnus opus that will instantly put you in the limelight— You wanted to keep having your hand outstretched to that tiny light.

But everyday, with each piece, you start to realize that your dreams are all for nothing.

You had been so focused on art that it's the only thing you have that defines who you are as a person and as an individual.

Art is what made you human.

Slowly, your innocent dreams molded itself into a twisted and vile poison that ate you from the inside out. Your love for creating backfired and now it's a blur if your passion stems from adoration or you just ran with it because it's the only thing that made you feel relevant in this world.

Maybe you should give up.

Even if there is a drastic improvement in your art with each piece, what good is it if it can't guarantee that career you oh so desperately want? The big artists say that you should make art for yourself, well yeah, they're right. But what if even if you do that it doesn't work?

Colour theory, shape language, line language, composition— All of those improved out of sheer love to learn. You've seen other people around you get careers out of it so it will happen to you?

Right?...

Right?

You're not a problematic artist, you don't make trouble, you don't make enemies, you don't participate in drama, you stay humble and eloquent.

Surely it will work... Right?...

Hahah.

In that world?

No it didn't.

It did not.

You died in your deathbed after being involved in a hit and run.

And after a long period of slumber, you have awoken in this world where somehow you are a renowned artist.

It felt shallow, really.

Suddenly having all of that in a snap of a finger through death?

Hah.

It felt like it mirrors Jinwoo's life. Except he had rightfully earned the flory of his powers.

Truthfully, you love him because of that.

What was it?

Ah yes.

"Because I was rock bottom, I longed for the highest peak."

That was the line that made you love him.

As someone who had no future in your art career, it was that line that made your heart yearn for him.

Two unfortunate souls who struggle in the same thing in different dimensions, except one managed to create that dream into reality.

Sure, you have the glory now. And although it made you so happy, it still felt so shallow because you didn't achieve this through hardwork. You just had to die.

You had to be dead.

It took dying to be given the mercy of having your dreams be granted.

And that just made you feel so... So awful.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

With a canvas on one hand, your painting materials neatly arranged in a bag in the other hand— You take a deep breath and enter the party.

Brilliant golden lights twinkle above your head coming from the magnificent chandelier hanging above. Cameras flashing, the clinking of glasses as hunters and celebrities discussed amongst themselves dressed in luxurious outfits and blinging jewelry.

The sight made your stomach sink and a lump in your throat forming.

This is an entirely different world you knew from the lonely greys and blues.

You look around frantically, almost panicking at the overwhelming chatter and blinding lights.

"Ah, you're here" A voice snaps you out of it.

You turn to see your sponsor, Choi Jong-in flashing a polite and handsome smile. You bow your head politely.

"Please," Jong-in simply shakes his head, "No need to be so polite. I am pleased that you have arrived in time. Champagne?"

He extends a glass towards you and you shake your head, sheepishly saying "O-oh... I'm not really an alcohol enjoyer. I'm fine."

"Ah, I see" He nods apologetically before gesturing you to a clearer space.

Jong-in escorts you to a less crowded area of the ball, the lessened crowd and noise calming your accelerated heartbeat down.

"If there is anything you need, please feel free to call me or the waiters" He says kindly, "You are also free to eat food."

"Thank you, Mr. Choi" You bow politely.

Before he could even reply, Jong-in was called over by a beautiful blonde girl you knew all too well.

Cha Hae-in.

She's as lovely as she was in the manhwa panels, with that red dress and her neatly tied hair— She was a sight to behold.

But as soon as you see a tall man clad in black, you feel a distinct thump in your heart, a twisting kind of small pain that made you feel like it stopped beating along with the way your lungs stopped breathing— You knew who it was.

"A guest?..." He inquires, making your heart thump even harder at the sound of that deep voice you only heard through the speakers of your phone and laptop.

"Mr. Sung, I'm glad you could make it along with my vice master" Jong-in hums, "This is an artist I'm sponsoring, I thought it would be a good idea to commemorate this important event celebrating humanity's win against the gates"

"Ah, I see" Jinwoo's handsome grey eyes would sweep onto your anxious form who is fidgeting uncontrollably in her hands. "I'm Sung Jinwoo,"

He extends a hand, making you look up at him with an even nervous look. It took you a while to extend your hand, and the moment your palm touched his— You felt as of you're touching someone from a different species. Something too unreal and dovine.

You barely had even managed to speak your name out with how much of a nervous wreck you are. Shaking his hand didn't happen if it weren't for Jinwoo gently doing it and letting you pull your hand away.

Your palms may have been trembling, but now it's even more erratic as you step back, not meeting his gaze.

Thank gods Jong-in decided to start a conversation to pivot Jinwoo's attention away from you.

As you attempt to calm yourself with a persistent panic attack, you feel a soft tap on your hands.

"Thank you for coming, I-I hope you enjoy your time" Hae-in says in her hesitant voice.

And you, who cant mutter a single word after your very first encounter with Jinwoo— Only muster a polite nod at her as she turns away to join Jong-in and Jinwoo in their conversation.

You were on a trance for almost five minutes, before finally deciding to set up your easel and canvas. You took out two different mason jars and filling them up with water; the gouache paint you will be using as a medium; the ceramic palette you have been using for quite a while now; and finally gently arranging your brushes.

Jong-in didn't specify what you should be painting for this event. But decided to paint the stage. An hour into the event, Jinwoo would start giving his speech as he is the main hero of the war against the gates and monarchs—As well as the person this whole event is dedicated to.

You had to pause in your process of painting the canvas, just to give respect to Jinwoo.

Your idol.

Your role model.

The man of your dreams.

His words aren't even registering as you can't help but be lost in a trance as he continues with his speech. Unconsciously, your hand raised itself and started to paint carefully, your eyes fixated on the hunter as your hand moved with a mind on its own.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Jong-in was extremely worried for the artist he had hired, he could tell from earlier she was having a panic attack with the hesitance. And when Jinwoo came into the picture, it seemed to frighten her all the more. He quietly called for his secretary to add at least 40% more of the initial payment that was planned to compensate for the unintentional distress he had put her onto.

While Jinwoo was giving his speech, he couldn't help but check on her by glancing from the distance.

In that canvas, he saw the stage, and in that stage was Jinwoo.

The artist was carefully painting Jinwoo.

Delicate strokes despite her eyes not on the cloth and brush. She was just mindlessly moving her hand as she looks at Jinwoo.

"Ah... I see it now."

Jong-in quietly smiles to himself.

It wasn't that she was frightened of Jinwoo's intimidating presence. No way does someone scared of a person have that same intense look with such dilated pupils.

With a determined hum, Jong-in knew exactly what to do.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

It had been three days since that event, and Jinwoo was attending to paperwork when he was informed of Jong-in's visit.

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with a bit of worry that his 'senior' might scold him for renting out gates in territory of Hunter's guild.

To his surprise, Jong-in entered carrying a rather large thing into his office.

"???" Jinwoo cocks up an eyebrow, silently inquiring Jong-in at what is the thing he brought in.

"Take a look, hunter Sung" Jong-in simply says and the hunter reluctantly stood up from his chair to approach the item his senior placed down.

When Jinwoo pulled off the protective cloth, he was met with a brilliant painting that felt like it was straight out of a renaissance era painting.

The red curtains were blood red and shaded softly. The wood is delicately painted, with even tiny specks that indicates the painter's exquisite attention to detail, but most importantly— His eyes were drawn to the middle, where a man stood center.

It was him.

His face was delicately painted, even his tousled black locks were intricately painted to imitate the way his strands behaved, his body language was painted in a relaxed but still managed to somehow translate the undertone of authority and power he held over the crowd that was purposely painted in a blurry manner to give more focus to him. Even the lighting of the stage was expertly imitated on the canvas.

The piece looked as if its goal was to put emphasis on his—the man who is standing in the golden limelight. As if it were trying to put him on a divine pedestal, to show him off as this some sort of god woth the painting.

"Who?..." Jinwoo finally manages to inquire.

"The artist chose you as her muse for the painting" Jong-in says, fixing his tie as he does so. "Quite the talent, no? Even us hunters who have quite the skill in the art of combat, are taken aback by such craft. It was as if she had magic on her very fingertips despite being just a civilian."

"Her muse," Jinwoo repeats, not knowing what to feel about it.

"It would be... Quite indecent of me to keep a portrait of a rival in my guild, no?" Jong-in coughs out, making Jinwoo awkwardly nod. "Consider it as a gift and a thank you for assisting my guild in jeju raid as well as your role in the war."

"I have quite the awards really, no need" He shakes his head.

"Yes," Jong-in glances back at the painting. "But I think that you, as the painter's muse, must see for yourself this piece created on your image."

"Mn...."

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Jinwoo quite frankly grew curious of the little painter he met and made him the centerpiece of her painting. He was honestly worried at first, she was so small compared to him and she was trembling at the sight of him. It didn't help that he noticed how she grew more shaken after they exchanged pleasantries.

Maybe he had gripped her hand a little too much.

Beru on the other hand, was visibly very pleased at the painting as well as the other shadows who wont shut up about it.

Throughout his monotonous days and hours, Jinwoo would often think of the painter.

It feels... Weird to be in someone's painting.

It's unreal even.

But ah... By chance, he met that pleasant little painter again.

She was in the bookstore, picking up several heavy books. When he approached her, she was flustered and nearly dropped the books she was purchasing if it weren't for him assisting her.

Just like their first meeting, she was clearly bashful and anxious. So Jinwoo made space between them and made small talk.

Somehow, their small talks would develop into long and meaningful ones with the days passing of them having frequent encounters.

There is this tiny, tiny warmth in Jinwoo's heart whenever he finds himself in the presence of his painter.

His heart whom he thought had lost its capability to harbor affection— Is beating fast whenever he crosses paths with her.

There is... Something about her.

Her little habits, her never ending curiosity, her childish habits and her love for everything beautiful. Somehow, everything in her eyes has the potential to be a piece of artwork.

Jinwoo was never a creative soul, he's only ever creative at insults maybe.

So to see someone so dedicated to her own craft, to see someone so full of love for something... It's like peering into a different world he never thought was there.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Go Gunhee decided to visit Jinwoo, it was to thank the hunter again with coffee beans and two— Just to visit Jinwoo.

"Ah, hunter Sung," Gunhee smiles as the person he waited for appears. "I hope you don't mind, I just wanted to pop in"

"Not at all, director" Jinwoo smiles politely.

"That piece," The old man's gaze drifts to a painting hun by Jinwoo's side. "What a magnificent work of art. I heard Hunter Choi gifted it to you after the artist he hired decided to put you as the centerpiece. Truly such remarkable talent by a younger lady."

"Yes, hahah" Jinwoo awkwardly rubs his nape.as he serves Gunhee a cup of tea.

"My father told me that artists have a special kind of love" Gunhee hums, reminiscing. "He told me that having an artist love you is different. A writer glorifies you into pleasant words, a musician translates your beauty into compelling music and a painter immortalises all of you in a single painting. A blank canvas is a tool by painters that they use to communicate. All the ugliness of the world can be put into ink, and all the beauty into wonderful pops of pleasant colors"

He continues, "And through my years, this is one of the few most magnificent pieces I've ever seen that shows the painter's love for it's muse"

"Her muse," Jinwoo repeats it, "I've been told the same thing."

"A lovely feeling, no?" Gunhee chuckles, "To be loved by a person so full of love."

"...So that's what it means"

"..."

The old man's face wrinkles into a happier smile.

Young love, truly beautiful, isn't it?

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

"That colour is really pretty" You mutter absentmindedly glance at the flowing water underneath, as if trying to ingrain the memory and behaviour of it.

"Thinking of a new artwork, again?" Jinwoo asks, glancing down at the direction you were staring at. "I can't wait to see what you'll make."

"Your pieces are always so beautiful"

It felt as if something struck an arrow at your heart, you glance at Jinwoo— Completely frozen in state.

When he noticed the heavy silence, his eyes would befall on you before his mouth going a little agape.

You're crying.

"Did... I say something wrong?..." Jinwoo asks and you panic, immediately tearing your gaze away.

"No, no, no" You shake your head, hiding your shameful tears from Jinwoo.

Compliments with your art were never really foreign, but you, being the insecure sad soppy excuse of a human being would always downplay it most of the time.

You were never truly satisfied with yourself and anything you ever made. Mostly because you came from a household where everything is never enough.

Ultimately, that system has been fully ingrained into your body that it became your personality.

Colors are muddy, the lines aren't steady or too thick or thin, the anatomy is off, the composition isn't fluid and the harmony is all over the place.

You were always, always, critical of yourself.

Nothing is ever enough.

Your works aren't beautiful enough, and you thought they never will be.

But when Jinwoo told you your art was beautiful, it caused something to crack inside and burst open.

Maybe it's because you loved him so much. Maybe it's because he is the person you admire the most in your sorry, lonely life.

It was always Jinwoo who was in your mind whenever you had those bad episodes of just having silent mental breakdowns.

It's his image that became your most beloved saviour.

Perhaps you're sobbing because you're finally able to hear the words you've imagined he would during the times you daydreamed about him.

Or maybe... Your body reacted because you knew deep down that Jinwoo was never a liar.

That he didn't say those words out of empty praise, that he said your crafts is beautiful because they simply are.

In your broken, shattered heart a heavy yet soft warmth swelled. Swelling so much that you felt so overwhelmed and couldn't control your emotions.

That kind of validation just felt like it washed away all the doubts that plagued you for years.

As you cried uncontrollably, Jinwoo would instinctively reach his hand out and pull you in for a searing kiss. His tongue gently nudges your lips before shoving itself into it.

One flick.

Two flicks

Three flicks,...

Until you yourself cant even count it anymore.

He pulls back slowly, but still not far enough for you not to feel his hot breath fanning over your cheeks.

"I only said your paintings are beautiful and yet you are crying like this, sarang?" He rubs his nose against yours, "Just what happened to you that you're this emotional, hm? Did you not think what you make is stunning? Did you never once think that your pieces are captivating? Why are you crying like this? How hurt have you been that it feels like you're crying out this kind of sorrow I can't seem to understand?"

"Why does your sobs feel like you've been dealing with such loneliness that a simple sincere compliment breaks you to this extend?"

"Everything about you is beautiful. All of you is beautiful." Jinwoo says in that ever so gentle voice of his, "Never doubt that for even a single second."

꒰ 🪼 A/N: what started as another simple fluffy idea turned into something more... Personal :'DD. Sorry guys hahahahsheshdg. Idk when I will have the free time to make the second half of the cai bots yet but please look out for when I do. ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ — All stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

#sung jinwoo #solo leveling #sung jin woo #kiwoo sung #only i level up #solo leveling headcanons #solo leveling x reader #sung jinwoo x reader #sung jin woo x reader #sung jinwoo headcanons #sung jinwoo x you #sung jinwoo fics #ore dake level up na ken #‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐༘⋆— kyunnie's writings

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genghisximpact · 2 years ago

Photo

@serpents0n

2017 vs. 2022

#SÃO ELES OS MAIORAIS #i. muse. ୭

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codeinesturniolo · 1 month ago

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But, I love you |2| ⤹˚˖ ♫ ୭ `✦ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹

PARING : matt sturniolo x fem!reader

WARNINGS : obsessiveness ??

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

The next day, Matt didn't even bother going to his own classes. Instead, he found a secluded spot in the library with a clear view of the entrance to the girls' locker room.

He told himself he was being strategic, waiting for the perfect moment to "accidentally" bump into Y/N. But deep down, he knew he was just feeding the

obsession, the need to be near her, to breathe the same air, even if it meant hiding in the shadows like a stalker.

He watched as she emerged from the locker room, her hair still damp from the shower, a towel slung over her shoulder. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic rhythm that echoed Tyler's desperate plea: "If I tell you I love you, would you tell me too?"

He followed her, keeping a safe distance, his eyes glued to her every move. He trailed her through the

crowded hallways, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions: adoration, desperation, a possessiveness that scared him even as it thrilled him.

He watched as she met up with her friends, their laughter grating on his nerves. He hated how easily they could make her smile, a smile he so desperately craved for himself.

He imagined himself pushing through the crowd, pulling her away from them, her laughter silenced, her eyes only for him. He knew it was wrong, this possessive jealousy that twisted in his gut. But he couldn't help himself.

She was his muse, his obsession, the sun around which his entire world revolved. And he would do anything, risk anything, to make her his.

That night, he broke into her locker. He knew it was wrong, a violation, but the need to possess something of hers, to feel closer to her, overwhelmed any sense of reason.

He took a hairbrush, a discarded scrunchie, a crumpled piece of paper with her handwriting on it.

They were meaningless trinkets, but in his twisted mind, they were sacred relics, tangible proof of her existence in a world that seemed determined to keep them apart.

He clutched the stolen items to his chest, their scent intoxicating him, fueling his obsession. He knew he was in too deep, that his feelings had morphed into something dark and unhealthy.

But he didn't care. He had tasted her world, even if it was just a stolen glimpse, and he would never let go.

He was hers, even if she didn't know it yet. And soon, he would make sure she understood.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖^ྀི˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖^ྀི˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ ˖ ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚

thank for 200 notes on the last one !! 🖤🖤

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lovings4turn · 8 months ago

Note

George practicing telling you he loves you while you're a asleep. "I love you so much, I cannot even get my thoughts in order to tell you. That's why I'm practicing. I want to marry you, I'm going to marry you, I've never been more sure of any decision ever. Every day feels so beautiful by your side, everything feels more vibrant and more peaceful. We'll be the best of friends and never part. I probably shouldn't include that when I tell you. Too soon, right? See, that's why I need to rehearse. Probably also shouldn't include that I'm obsessed with you and can recognize you by the sound of your footsteps."

nonnie babe ... i will explode thinking about this actually ??? because this is SUCH a george thing to do , too ?

like , he always wants everything to be perfect , always has and always will , especially when it pertains to you . and something as serious as this ?? it cannot go wrong , no way . so sure , maybe he practices what he's gonna say when you're asleep , sue him . and yeah , maybe there's been a few close calls , where you've stirred a little too much and george has to promptly clamp his mouth shut . but it's all worth it . cause one day , he'll be able to say it out loud

#୭ 🧷 ✧˚. becca's musings #george russell #george russell x reader #nonnie darling i need you to know how obsessed w your ideas i am #like your concepts are so cute and writing so beautiful and AHHHH!!!!!

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kairismess · 11 months ago

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⤹˚˖♬୭ karaoke night.

🍰 genre: fluff ~ ! ✒️ word count: 969 💭 summary: sakusa has a hidden talent, which he's only willing to show off while the other three are drunk, and you're here to listen. 🍥 author's note: if y'all get my reference as to which idol that is, i will love you forever frfr

sakusa has always avoided group gatherings as much as he could, there was simply nothing enjoyable about being clumped together with a group of people he hardly called friends–associates were the correct term–and sharing the same space with then when they could potentially carry life-threatening pathogens, with or without them knowing.

what a cruel reality it was for him that only he seemed to care about proper sanitation and hygiene, seeing as how bokuto, atsumu, and hinata all just shared the same sake bottle over a round of drinking in this disgustingly compact karaoke room that had zero ventilation whatsoever.

his eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes set in a permanent glare, wherever he gazed, he always had something to criticize about its cleanliness, of course, he wouldn't even comment on the sticky table between the four of them.

unbelievable, sakusa thought to himself, as atsumu–in his slurred, drunken stupor–clutched the microphone as he chuckled, with hinata and bokuto cheering him on like his number one fans. the opening beat to the song 'baby' by justin bieber blared through the loudspeakers, and sakusa felt like he could pass away right here, right now to end the suffering; but that would be awful, because then he'd decompose with their clutter around him.

sakusa was curled up into a ball, waiting for you to come back from getting some water for the two of you (he didn't trust the water from the bar), but while you were gone, the rest of the msby jackals were just howling out the lyrics of some ear-piercing song that sakusa didn't even want to hear the end of.

when you got back, sakusa had never been more relieved in his life. he thanked you for the water and, after inspecting its contents and its container, he drank from it. you sat down next to sakusa, making the rest of the team that was terribly drunk tease you two through that dreaded microphone.

"omiomi and manager, sitting in a tree..." "K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

bokuto just spoke gibberish for the latter part of that, because he felt like vomiting due to all that alcohol. "...can we please leave?" sakusa asks you in a low voice, leaning in close to your ear. you shiver a little and turn to look at him, your nose touching his that was covered by a mask. he moved away immediately, watching as your eyes widened and your face got a little flustered. "well... we can't just leave them here, i-i mean, look at them, omi..."

sakusa took one look at this sorry bunch that was spurring up all kinds of chaos, he was honestly surprised that they hadn't started a fire yet. turning back to you with a deadpanned look, sakusa spoke in a levelled tone. "they look like shit," "see, omi? so we can't–" "all the more reason why we should leave," sakusa insisted.

"aww, c'mon, omiomi! y'fuckin' killjoy..." atsumu muttered under his breath, taking another swig from the sake bottle. "y-yeah! you haven't... sung a single song... since we got here ya... ya..." bokuto couldn't even finish his sentence, he vomited in the corner, with hinata patting his back, hiccuping, as he tried to help him through it.

"okay, i think—hic!—w-we might—hic!—need to... go home—hic!—soon..." hinata mused, which atsumu and bokuto couldn't even protest against, they were going to be so badly hungover the next morning that they'd forget their names.

"h-hey, omiomi... we'll go home..." atsumu mumbled, handing him the microphone. "...if ya sing a tune," the blonde uttered slyly. sakusa furrowed his eyebrows in disdain at his ultimatum, but he knew that this would be the most peaceful way to resolve things; he couldn't walk out that filthy door without you, you were the only one keeping him sane and put together at this point.

sakusa sighed and with a tissue paper, scrolled through the song list until he found one by an idol his cousin komori introduced him to when they were younger. it had an oddly jolly vibe to it, one you wouldn't expect sakusa to enjoy or even be familiar with in the first place.

atsumu groaned, but you and hinata were getting into the song. for the first time that evening, sakusa took off his mask to sing clearer; you had never seen sakusa that serious about something that would force him to take his mask off that wasn't volleyball.

the way sakusa sang, it was so... alluring. it was like everyone, regardless if they enjoyed the song or even knew it, would be inclined to listen to him sing. nearly everyone in the room shut their mouths and held their breaths as they listened to him sing; a siren, that's what you likened sakusa to. his voice was so captivating, he didn't sound professional, he didn't sound fake nor seasoned in terms of singing, he sounded very graceful, very emotional, in a way, when he sung.

it was just right, every note was hit perfectly with the right amount of emotion, and it felt like every word he sung, he meant it; as if those were the words that came from his own heart and out through his melodic voice.

afterwards, sakusa sighed, put on his mask, and handed the microphone back to atsumu, while you, hinata, and bokuto clapped for him. "can we please leave now?" the dark haired boy asked, turning to you. you blinked a little and stammered out a response, not realizing he was asking you. "a-ah, right, i'll start the car," you said with a slight smile, still gushing internally at how amazing sakusa's singing voice was.

you just hoped the drunken trio wouldn't harass sakusa over it, they'd be here all night now after learning their dear omiomi has a lovely singing voice.

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genghisximpact · 2 years ago

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@zepmonroe

Shadow and Bone 2x05

#esperando ansiosamente pelo presente <3 #i. muse. ୭

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lucywritesagain · 4 months ago

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I'm Lucy and this is my second blog (my main one used to be @lucywrites02) I will be reposting all of my stories from that blog here! You can also find me on AO3

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .Rules & Infos. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

All of my old works are SFW, but I will occasionally reblog NSFW fanfics and fanart so please do not interact with this blog if you are a minor

I don't take any requests at the moment, but if i decide to do it i will make an extra post about it

I don't do taglists anymore, so please don't ask me to be tagged in any stories. I just think keeping a taglist is too much work for me right now :3

If you have any questions about the fics, or just wanna talk, my ask box is always open

I'm a sloooow writer and I don't really have a schedule

Here are my baby girls. My husbands. My muses and my happiness. In other words, here are the characters I write for:

Loki

Stephen Strange

Miguel O'Hara

Din Djarin (no fics yet)

Nanami Kento (no fics yet)

Optimus Prime (no fics yet)

Megatron (no fics yet)

(all of the character masterlists will be posted soon)

Here are some tags that I will be using to organise this blog

my own fics: ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ- I did that

my queue: ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★- q

other people's fics: fic rec - ୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧

fanarts: ✧･ﾟ: *✧- art art art

anything NSFW: nsfw (nsfw art, nsfw fic, etc)

personal stuff: ✧:･ﾟ( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ ) ･ﾟ✧

And of course more specific tags for the characters I write for

✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧

#loki #megatron #miguel o'hara #nanami kento #stephen strange #optimus prime #☆��･:*:･ﾟ★- q #ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ- I did that #fic rec - ୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧ #✧･ﾟ: *✧- art art art #✧:･ﾟ( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ ) ･ﾟ✧#loki x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #stephen strange x reader #din djarin x reader #optimus prime x reader #megatron x reader

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anitalenia · 2 years ago

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━━━ 𝒆𝒓𝒈𝒐 𝒅𝒖𝒎 𝒎𝒆 𝒅𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒊𝒔 ₓ˚. ୭ pt. 3

━━ 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒔 / 𝒎𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔. the frontier boys as random tropes. ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ part one | part two | part four

˖ ࣪⭑ pairing: Pope, Ironhead, Ben, Catfish x fem!Reader

˖ ࣪⭑ content includes: dark content, sexual content, dark!teacher, serial killer, stepcest, male masturbation, female masturbation, dildos, mentions of blood and death, power imbalance, spanking, dom + sub allusions, unhealthy obsession, mentions of riding + sexual acts, taboo subjects, pillow riding, size kinks, age gap, sexy videos, blowjobs

˖ ࣪⭑ authors note: I always see Frank as being an age gap kinda guy 😭 I just see him being a funny fatherly figure that you want to do dirty things to 😜

LINKS ੈ♡˳·˖✶ 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 | 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒔

━━ SANTIAGO ‘POPE’ GARCIA ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ 𝐝𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫, short skirts and tempting skin

You were so young and bright, so full of potential, just glittering with opportunity. You were a rising star that he needed to snatch down from the sky before you rose too far.

He was your mentor, your guide, taught you right from wrong while disobeying the very teachings he taught when he’d stare at your legs in those short skirts he swore you wore for him. He’d have to adjust his slacks at his desk every time he’d catch a glimpse of your puffy lips in those pink panties of yours.

He pictured throwing all of his papers off his desk and fucking you into the mahogany, telling you how bad of a girl you’ve been as he’d spank your ass and teach you some discipline.

He’d fail you on the tests you aced, the tests you studied weeks on end for and meticulously memorized every answer. You’d go to him just as he expected you would, confused and troubled and feeling dumb. You’d hold up the test with a big red D scribbled on the corner, almost in tears as you’d believed you’d done so well.

He’d console you, schedule a time after class where you two could meet privately and he could stare at you without the suspicion of his other students. He hated having to hide it, but he loved scooting so close to you as he pretended to be interested in whatever you said, staring at your breasts and imagining ripping your top off and having you ride him in his chair, those perky tits bouncing in his face as he taught you how to ride cock properly.

You always smelt of honey and sugar, your hair always in ringlets and your shirts always a little too tight. You were the golden rays of sunshine that warmed his brown skin, the dash of aurous flakes in his hazel eyes as he’d look at you. You were his favorite student, so eager to learn and equally as eager to please.

He was sure you’d be dumb enough to do whatever he said eventually, fall for his stupid jokes and his soft smiles, swoon at his encouragement and intelligence. He just had to play his cards right, toy with you until you believed any word he said like it was gospel, be stupid enough to believe that the only way he could think straight was when he’s had his cock sucked.

You were his favorite student, the muse to his writings, the subject of his teachings and the tempting golden apple hanging from the tree. Soon enough he was going to pluck you from those branches, but first, he needed you to believe he was the beguiled Adam to your tempting Eve, not the ever-deceiving serpent hanging from the tree.

Your favorite teacher was going to ensure that you become the catalyst of his own destruction, for his morality had already fallen long ago…

━━ WILLIAM ‘IRONHEAD’ MILLER ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫, killer cravings and deadly passions

He killed women who looked like you because he couldn’t help it. Destruction was in his marrow, gasoline flowing through his blood, fire spurting from his fingertips and burning anything he touched.

He had seen you one late night, cold and shivering, alone and vulnerable. He was covered in blood and smelt of iron and copper, dirt and earth. He would’ve scared you if you’d had seen him, run away and called the cops like any girl in your position would have.

He thought you were pretty, easily submissive and docile like a tiny doe in the meadow. He was the wolf hiding in the tall grass, hungry and bloody and hunting. He didn’t want to hurt you though, loved to look at you too much, knew no other girl would get his cock as hard as you did. He always pictured fucking you in the alleyway when you’d take the trash out, ripping off your work clothes and slicing your panties off with the edge of his knife. He knew you were too weak to deny him, too scared to fight, too beautiful to resist.

He’d follow you to work, watched you when you slept, fucked his fist outside your home in the cloak of shadow. He killed anyone who tried to pluck his precious flower, took their life as his own and left them in the dirt where the trash belonged. You were entrancing, a blood red rose growing on a grave, and he was the thorn on the stem. You were beautiful to anyone who might’ve looked, but dangerous to anyone who dare touched.

You didn’t know why death had seemed to surround you closer than community; didn’t know why every person you touched crumbled to dirt. Your hands were stained with blood whether you wanted to admit it or not, countless lives lost like you’d been collecting them as stones.

You were alone once more, just as he saw you that first night. You didn’t need family or friends when you had him, he was the soil that was going to help you grow, the sun that fed your leaves. He just had to be patient until you were ready to be plucked, ready to live in the vase he’d put you in and care for your every whim.

He couldn’t wait to finally have you with him, strapped to his bed as he fucked the handle of his knife into your wet pussy, heard your cries and moans as you’d beg and beg and he’d get harder and harder. He’d take good care of you or else he’d make you regret it.

He killed women that looked like you because he couldn’t wait to have you, finding temporary joys in their blood then incredible lows when he was done. He was getting antsy, wondering how much longer it was going to take until you were fully blossomed. He was missing you and craving you, hands buzzing to burn you.

You didn’t know it, but you had been dancing along the sharp edge of his blade, bound to get cut eventually. A meandering Bambi in the forest, bound to be caught, and a beautiful flower, bound to wither… until there was nothing left but ash.

━━ BENJAMIN MILLER ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, taboo fantasies, mutual pining

He wasn’t new in your life; you had been with him since high school and always hung off his arm and shoved him like brothers and sisters would do. He was funny and tall, was even on the wrestling team before graduation, the son of a rugged man who married your wilting mother.

He was the butt of your jokes, the annoyed prickle under your skin, the headache in your skull. But even you couldn’t deny his attractiveness; his tan skin, his toothy grin and his muscled sculpture. He was chiseled from marble, strong as stone and as beautiful as diamond.

You knew it was such a taboo subject, to fuck yourself with your pink dildo late at night, even early in the morning, cumming at the idea that it was your big, strong, stepbrother’s cock that was making you cum instead. You’d whine and moan, trying to keep quiet when you’d writhe in your bed with your pussy squelching on your fingers as you heard Benny’s laughter just outside your door.

You’d wear his shirts when he wasn’t home, act helpless so he’d reach on the shelf and get it for you when you couldn’t reach. You’d make videos of yourself cumming on your pillow as you moaned his name, your clit rubbing back and forth like it was his thigh, then watch it later. You couldn’t even stop yourself from lingering by his door when he’d bring girls home, jealous and horny at the sound of his grunts and her muffled cries coming from the other side.

Your parents were oblivious when you’d hug him for too long, he was too nice to pull away. They were oblivious when you’d wear your short shorts and tank tops and make him spend the day with you, the way you’d pretend to fall asleep in his bed when you’d watch a movie with him, wake up with his arm around you then continue on with your day like it never happened.

You weren’t sure when your obsession had started only that it had grown on you like a vine, festered inside you for years like a boil. You couldn’t even talk to him for too long without that familiar slickness forming between your legs, your skin itching for his rough hands to bend your thighs to your head and fuck you hard for being so naughty.

He’d hug you, push you, make fun of you, console you, laugh with you. You were almost deluded enough to believe it was for reasons more than two step siblings comfortable with each others differences. That he was falling for you just as much as you did him, that he sat next to you at family dinners because he liked you close to him.

But at night, when Benny would bid you farewell and retire to his own room as you did yours, as you’d pull your phone out and fuck yourself at the picture of you and him at the beach, as you’d cum on your sheets with a muffled cry, you were completely oblivious to what Benny was doing just across the hall…

His fist twisting around his hard cock, picturing it was your plushy tits he was fucking instead…

━━ FRANCISCO ‘CATFISH’ MORALES ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ 𝐞𝐱-𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐝, shameless desire, experienced hands

He was a single man, abandoned by his wife years ago and left to raise his son by himself. He was hardworking and bullheaded, but still found time to smile between work and bed in the gossip of his son.

Your breakup with him was still fresh in the air, too tender to poke at unless you’d want an argument. Even Frank had believed you two would last long; all giddy smiles and fluttering hearts. But then you found him in bed with another woman, and your smile fell and your heart broke and Frank felt an opportunity arise.

He was a shitty father, always looked at the tight young ass of his sons girlfriend when she’d come over, bring her towels when she was in the shower, do her laundry so she had no choice but to masquerade in his flannels. He loved his son but he didn’t raise a cheater, so he didn’t feel bad when he would fuck his hand in his bedroom with one of your sparkly pink bras in his hand, one he found when he was doing an old load of laundry he’d forgotten about.

He would imagine you drooling on his balls as he tied your hair up for you, teach you how to touch him in the way he liked. He wanted to give you a man with experienced hands, a man who didn’t cheat with random bitches when there was perfectly good pussy right there by his side. He’d never discourage you, hurt you, he’d cradle your heart like a baby bird in the palms of his hands.

You came over to pick up your stuff shortly after and Frank was the only one home. He welcomed you in with a sentimental smile, giving you a hug and kiss on your forehead, savoring the feeling of your smooth skin under his work-torn palms, wondering what your lips would feel like under his.

He stared at your ass as you’d walk ahead of him when he shut the door, imagined fucking you against the dining table and licking you up clean when his son would walk in. If you saw it as revenge Frank wouldn’t have minded, just grateful to have that pussy wrapped around him and hear those moans in his ear other than down the hall from his room.

You had a sad smile on your face as you chatted politely with him, and he knew he could fuck a smile back on your face if you’d let him. He nodded his head in understanding like he didn’t want you crying around his cock instead, like he wasn’t debating whether or not to pick you up and throw you on the couch, his sons feelings be damned.

You always thought Frank was nice, kind and courteous and always had a dad joke at hand for when you’d ask. He’d sit on the recliner with a beer in his hand, slowly rocking back and forth as he’d watch a football game. You always loved the messiness of it, so unused to a man who didn’t give a damn what anybody thought about him.

You had come to the house in a final attempt to own up to your own feelings, tell Frank you wanted his hands in your hair and his tongue in your pussy just as much as you needed oxygen. But you were shy and intimidated by the maturity in him, worried he’d look at you as a pathetic little girl trying to bite more than she could chew.

Frank watched as you lingered in the hallway and gave him those pretty little eyes, your bag of clothes fiddling in your hand as he ran his eyes up and down your body like a hungry man staring at his dinner.

He could almost crack a smile at that, something in his stomach making his cock stir in his jeans as he realized you weren’t wearing a bra, your nipples poking through the fabric of your top as you stared at him with nervous lusting eyes.

He looked back at you, knowing exactly what you wanted.. and he planned on giving it to you.

thanks for reading! likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated. also, the title is a latin phrase that means, ‘so long as you love me’, for anyone who was curious. and always remember that you’re loved and important <;3

#˖⁺. 𝙛𝙪𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙖 .𖥔 ݁#santiago #santiago garcia #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia x reader #will ironhead miller #will miller #william miller #William miller x reader #will miller x reader #frank morales x reader #frank morales #benny miller #benny miller x reader

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irisblueasks · 7 days ago

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𓆩 🍮﹐✧﹏✶ ･

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𖦁ׅ ࣪ name ៵ ࣪ ִֶָ ⋆

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ‿︵˓ ʚ♡ɞ ˓ ︵ ͜ ㅤ ㅤ ݂ ͘ ౨ৎ Light shower. .ᐟ ⟢ ۫ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ Call me your muse. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ︶ ͡ ۫ ˓ ʚ♡ɞ ˒ ۫ ͡ ︶

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ꐑ﹒e﹒␥chnl ꗃ﹒、 chnnl 𓂅chnnl﹒⚞e⚟ 、eᨓ﹒chnnl ⌗﹒chnnl⊰ ᜴e﹒chnnl﹒‹3 ꐑꐑ 、𖦹e﹒chnnl ⚞⚟﹒⌘﹒chnnl ⌧e﹒ ᜴chnnl ᨓ﹒e𓂅﹒chnnl ␥、ꗃ﹒chnnl

-------------------------------------Bio-------------------------------------

ʚ 𖤐 • ₊˚✧ . ・ 🕸；hey stalker ! ﹒ zᶻ ✞︎ [prns]┆ [mbti]┆[zodiac]┆ ılıl ☠︎︎ ༒︎ • ₊˚ <> [extra info] ☆ ₊ ✞︎ 🕸・[carrd]｜𖤐 ₊˚ʚ ☠︎︎ ₊ ✧ ﾟ.

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⧣₊˚﹒✦₊ ⧣₊˚ 𓂃★ ⸝⸝ ⧣₊˚﹒✦₊ ⧣₊˚ /) /) (｡•ㅅ•｡)〝₎₎ Intro template! ✦₊ ˊ˗ . .╭∪─∪────────── ✦ ⁺. . .┊ ◟﹫ Name : . .┊﹒𐐪 Age : . .┊ꜝꜝ﹒Pronouns : . .┊ ⨳゛Sexuality : . .┊ ◟ヾ Likes : . .┊﹒𐐪 Dislikes : . .┊ ◟﹫ Extra : ╰───────────── ✦ ⁺. ⧣₊˚﹒✦₊ ⧣₊˚ 𓂃★ ⸝⸝ ⧣₊˚﹒✦₊ ⧣₊˚

⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣ ‧₊˚✧ ୨୧┇Name: ୨୧┇Nationality: ୨୧┇Gender: ୨୧┇Age: ୨୧┇Pronouns: ⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣ ‧₊˚✧ ╰─ - ̗̀✎ My Favorite… ୨୧┇Color:

୨୧┇Anime/Show: ୨୧┇Game: ୨୧┇Animal: ⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣ ‧₊˚✧ ╰─ - ̗̀✎ Interests & More! ୨୧┇Likes: ୨୧┇Dislikes: ୨୧┇Birthday: ୨୧┇Extra: ⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣ ‧₊˚✧

-------------------------------------Roles-------------------------------------

✿﹒♣️﹒♪﹒role . ⧽﹑✦﹒ 🦴 ﹒ role ✩ ﹒ 🐈‍⬛﹒ ⪨　role 🐼.　♡ ﹒ ♫ ﹒ role ➷ ﹒ 🕸️ ﹒ ♪ role ⪩ .　🤍 ﹒ ✦ ﹒ role

-------------------------------------Rules-------------------------------------

✦﹒e﹒txt﹒ ︶︶﹒txt﹒e ﹒e﹒✿﹒txt

⋌﹒txt﹒﹒e ﹒e﹒➲﹒txt lıl﹒txt﹒e﹒

﹒e﹒txt﹒❀ e﹒txt﹒﹒⊼ ︶︶﹒e﹒txt

✪﹒e﹒txt﹒ ❒﹒txt﹒﹒e e﹒﹒txt﹒♩

-------------------------------------Welcome-------------------------------------

﹫ ﹒ ⛓️ ﹒ ✤ ﹐Welcome to our server, {user} !

♟️ ﹔ ✧﹒ #channel ☆ #channel ☆ #channel ★☆ ﹒ 🕸️ ﹒ ！ ﹕I hope you enjoy your stay here!

-------------------------------------Bye-------------------------------------

🌑 ﹒⊞ ﹒◎ ﹔oh no! {user} has left us D:

﹒？﹒⌓ ﹒🦇 ﹕we will miss you, very much﹒ ✤ !

-------------------------------------Level-------------------------------------

🦇 ﹒ ⅄ ﹒you levelled up !! ❁ ﹒ 🕷️ ﹕ ⊦ ﹒you are level {level} ✿ ﹒ ⫟ ﹒ 🔪 ﹐keep being active to level up more !

𐔌 . 𓎟 txt ᐟ｡୧ ꒱

◠ . ─ · ◠ . ─ · ◠ . ─ · ◠ . ─ · ꒰୨୧◞ 。name⠀.ᐟ⠀user⠀₊ ˚⊹ ɞ⠀.⠀age ﾉ⠀pronouns ﹗ ໒꒱۪

( ｡>﹏<) ﹒ 🥨﹕ ✼ ﹒ Server rules ! 🥯﹒ 1 ﹒ ᶻᶻ ﹒ [rule] ✦ ﹒ ┈ ﹕desc

2 ﹒ ∬ ﹒ 🥐 ﹒ [rule] ⌣ ﹒ ✿ ﹕ desc

🧋 ﹒ 3 ﹒ ᶻᶻ ﹒ [rule] ✦ ﹒ ┈ ﹕desc

4 ﹒ ∬ ﹒ ☕️ ﹒ [rule] ⌣ ﹒ ✿ ﹕ desc

🥞 ﹒ 5 ﹒ ᶻᶻ ﹒ [rule] ✦ ﹒ ┈ ﹕desc

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

╴╴╴╴╴⊹ꮺ˚ ╴╴╴╴╴⊹˚ ╴╴╴╴˚ೃ ╴╴

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

‿︵‿︵‿୨ ୧‿︵‿︵‿

✿﹕ ︵︵✧₊︵︵ꕤ₊˚︵ ૮꒰˵• ᵜ •˵꒱ა ﹕ɞ

. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠. ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

─ · ─ · ─ · ─ · ─ ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

๑‧˚₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹๑‧˚₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹๑

°:. *₊ ° . ☆ °:. *₊ ° . ° .•

₊✧˚﹕︶︶︶﹕૮₍ ⸝⸝´ ꒳ `⸝⸝ ₎ა﹕︶︶︶﹕ ˚✧₊

━━━━━━ʕ•㉨•ʔ━━━━━━━

꙳ ੭ * ‧ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ‧ ⨯ (๑>ᴗ<๑) . ⁺ ✦ * . ˚ ⨯ ੭ * ‧

(･ω･)つ ──────────── ⊂(･ω･)

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

︻デ═一・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

— — — — — — — — — — — — — —

＼／＼／＼／＼／＼／＼／＼／＼／＼／＼／

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

꒦ˎˊ˗ ︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶ ꒦꒷꒦₊˚

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】

✠ ——— ✠ ——— ✠ ——— ✠

➽───────────────❥

。✯ ＼｜／。✯ ＼｜／✯ 。✯ ＼｜／✯ 。

ɷ( ' ' )ɷ : ⊹ ̟˖ ⁀꒷꒦ ꒰꒰ ⊹꒷︶

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

──────── ⌒⌒⌒ ︶︶︶

︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦‧ ₊˚・

꒷︶꒥꒷‧₊ ໒( ” •̀ ᗜ •́ ” )७ ₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷

: ・ෆ・┈・┈・ᕱ⑅ᕱ・┈・┈・ෆ・ :

₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

๑‧˚₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹๑‧˚₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹๑

꒰ა ˚₊ ✧・┈・╴﹕꒰ ᐢ｡- ༝ -｡ᐢ ꒱﹕╴・┈・𐑺 ‧₊˚໒꒱

╭────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╮

╰────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╯

ᗢ𓄹 ׅ ࣪ ˖︶꒷꒦⊹˚Ꮚ₊꒷︶꒷⊹˚Ꮺ

✧:･ﾟ( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ ) ･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ ) ･ﾟ✧

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

— — — — — — — — — — — — — —

╭──────────.★..─╮

╰─..★.──────────╯

╰┈•┈୨୧┈•┈╯

╭ ┈•┈୨୧┈•┈ ╮

︶꒷꒦︶ ๋࣭ ⭑

୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

˚ ༘`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ (◡‿◡✿) name ᶻ ᶻ ᶻ idk ︵︵ ᛝ mbti ﹒ ◟ ❏

#Bio #ig bios #Using for later #aesthetic #aesthetic bios

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