#love the outfit and the drawing is flawless

[chosok-amo]

STARS AROUND SCARS : GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU

you were just trying to draw some stars on your boyfriend, not knowing simple things could be so hard when you have two needy boyfriends.

w/c : 8k (sorry, can't stop myself :'))

warning : lots, and lots of suggestive conversation, horndog! gojo satoru and fluff.

[☆] MASTERLIST

on a crystal-clear evening with the sky a vivid shade of blue, you and gojo satoru were enjoying a rare and cherished day off. the living room was bathed in the gentle, natural light of the setting sun, casting a warm glow over everything.

you were sprawled comfortably on the soft carpet, wearing a casual outfit that perfectly matched the relaxed vibe of the day: a short denim skirt paired with a white crop top, and ankle socks completing the look. gojo lay in front of you, his one arm lying flat as a pillow beneath his head, equally casual in a pair of short blue jeans and white socks, his posture relaxed and at ease.

while you two were savoring this peaceful downtime, your other boyfriend, geto suguru, was hard at work. he was busy attending an important meeting with the jujutsu higher-ups, his mind likely consumed by the demands of his role. it was a stark contrast to your serene afternoon, but you knew how dedicated he was, and it made these moments with gojo even more special.

colorful pens and crayon marks were spread out in vibrant disarray around you. the bright, vivid hues of the art supplies had left their playful imprints on the carpet, creating a whimsical, chaotic pattern that contrasted beautifully with the serene atmosphere of your cozy living room.

“oh, look at you,” you enthusiasly said as you carefully drew tiny stars around gojo's scars on his arm, adding a burst of color. “you’re like a living piece of the blue sky,” you giggled.

gojo chuckled, his lips curving into a charming smile at your words, “ah, so you think i'm a living piece of the sky, huh? well, i can't say i dislike that comparison,” he joked, his eyes watching your every move as you added the final touches with your colorful pens.

his gaze drifted to the colorful art supplies scattered around you, and his smile turned a tad more mischievous. “you're making quite a mess here,” he teased, gesturing to the mess of color covering the carpet, “i wonder what suguru will think when he sees this.”

you can't help but grin at gojo's comment, continuing to scribble playful little stars around his scars. “oh, come on,” you reply with a lighthearted roll of your eyes, “it's not a mess it's. . . creative expression.” you raise an eyebrow at his mention of geto, imagining the slight eye roll you'll get as he walks through the door and sees your vibrant ‘creative expression’ on the carpet.

“he'll probably just shake his head in faux disapproval,” you say with a soft laugh. “but secretly he'll think it's adorable,” imagining the look on suguru's face when he walked in to see the colorful chaos you'd created. “i'm sure he'll love it,” you replied sarcastically, rolling your eyes playfully. “he always appreciates a good splash of color.”

as you continued your whimsical artwork on gojo's arm, he couldn't help but watch you with a hint of amusement in his eyes. “you've got quite the artistic touch there,” he remarked, observing the swirling stars you'd added to his scars. “i'm starting to feel like a canvas.”

you flash him a cheeky grin, “well, you're the perfect blank canvas, with all these little scars.” your fingers move with careful precision as you artfully create tiny spirals and swirls around his scars with your pens. the way his skin was so pale and flawless made the scars stand out even more, creating a unique canvas for your colorful designs.

“and you're being such a good ’canvas’ too,” you chuckle, gently teasing. “no squirming, no complaints.” your eyes dart between the swirls and stars you've created on his arm, admiring your own work. “besides, it's not like you're complaining. you wouldn't be lying here letting me draw on you if you didn't enjoy it, would you?”

gojo chuckled, “you've got a point there. It does feel kind of nice, having a pretty girl like you drawing on me.” he glances down at his arm, observing the colorful designs you've created. “i just hope suguru doesn't get jealous,” he teases, a smirk playing upon his lips, “he might think I'm enjoying this a little too much.”

“but you do enjoy this a little too much,” you look at him for a second before looking down to where his hand lies under your chest— under your breast more likely. giving it a gentle squeeze from here and there since the start.

gojo chuckled, his smirk widening as you glanced down, well aware of the hand he had placed under you. “can you blame me, really? i have a stunning woman practically straddling my hand, and she's putting on quite the colorful show on my arm.”

his fingers involuntarily flex against your skin, the warmth seeping through your crop top, sending tingles down your spine. “especially when your hands are on me... touching me in all the right places.”

he gave your breast a light squeeze once again, his thumb slowly tracing a pattern on your skin as he met your eyes, a playful twinkle visible in his. “besides, i doubt you're complaining either, considering the location of your perch. but i swear, baby it's just for the art. completely art-related enjoyment,” he gives you a wink before chuckle.

“shut up!” you swat his hand lightly, trying to hide your embarrassment. “why do you have to say it like that? it sounds so inappropriate!” you then shift slightly, guiding his hand from beneath your chest to rest flat against the carpet, a playful scowl on your face. “just keep it where it belongs, okay?”

gojo chuckles, pretending to pout as you smack his hand away from your chest. “hey, i'm just being honest,” he replies with a smirk. “and besides, you were pretty much lying on my hand.” he lets his hand fall to the side, a hint of disappointment in his eyes, “now that you've moved it, i feel strangely empty,” he making a squeeze gesture with his hand, teasing you once more.

“it was nice having a little something to hold,” he adds, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards in a mischievous smirk. you roll your eyes at his pitiful expression, aware of his tactics to get what he wants. “don't give me that look," you chide playfully, “you're not getting that hand back, babe.”

yet, you can't help but feel a flutter in your stomach at the way he talks about wanting to hold something, his voice low and suggestive. “and quit being such a pervert,” you add, trying to mask the way his words affect you.

gojo feigns innocence once again, “me? a pervert? perish the thought,” he teases, the smirk never leaving his lips as he watches the subtle blush on your cheeks.

“i just appreciate beautiful things,” he continues, his eyes briefly roaming over your figure. “and you, my dear, are an absolute masterpiece.” his gaze drifts to your hips, admiring the way your short skirt rides up with each subtle shift. “and it's a damn good view from down here,” he mutters under his breath.

he reaches out towards where his hand was previously, only to snatch it back when you give him a firm look. “come on, don't be mean. i miss the company down there.” he gives you puppy dog eyes, his gaze pleading. “just one hand? for old-time's sake? i'll be good, i promise.”

you can't help but chuckle at his puppy dog eyes, the way they widen ever so slightly to make him look like a pouting child. “don't you start with that look,” you scold, trying to keep your resolve despite his adorable expression.

yet, as much as you enjoy the game of cat and mouse, you can't help but feel a tinge of yearning for his touch too. you bite your lip, considering his plea. “one hand,” you finally relent, “and you better behave yourself, gojo.” a sly smile dances on his lips as he hears your reluctant but consenting response, knowing he’s got you right where he wants you now. gojo slowly slides his hand underneath you once more, this time allowing his fingers to brush against your side, tracing the smooth curve of your waist.

his touch is light, like a whisper against your skin, as if he's testing his boundaries. “you’re so soft,” he whispers, his eyes darkened. “i don’t know how you manage to feel so soft and delicate, but also so strong and feisty at the same time.”

“stop tempting me!” you exclaim with a playful huff. “let me add these little stars to your arm without distractions!” you punctuate your demand with a light bite on his arm, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “i need to focus on my artwork, not on how you’re making this way more interesting than it should be.”

gojo can't help but chuckle at your attempted bite, his arm reflexively twitching under your teeth. “ow, ow, ow,” he exclaims in fake pain, “you're really getting into your role as a fierce artist, huh?”

his hand continues to slowly explore your side, his fingers gently tracing along the hem of your crop top, the tips dipping just slightly beneath the fabric. He watches the way you shiver under his touch with a mixture of amusement and fascination. “is that how you treat your canvas?” he teases. “well, if you weren’t such an irresistible muse, maybe I’d be more gentle,” you retort with a smirk. “but since you’re clearly enjoying this little performance, i might just have to give you an encore. how’s that for art?”

gojo lets out a pleased hum, clearly enjoying your playful banter. “oh, i'm enjoying it alright,” he replies, his hand still drifting lazily along your side, inching its way up to brush against the bare skin of your stomach, “i never knew being a muse could be this much fun.”

his touch becomes a little more insistent, his fingers now outlining the contour of your hip, enjoying the way your breath hitches at his touch. “keep going,” he encourages, “i want to see your entire masterpiece.”

your mind is a whirl of sensations. you try to focus on your work, continuing to draw the tiny little stars around gojo's scars, but his hand is a constant presence on your body, stealing your attention once again.

you try to keep your composure, to maintain the illusion of control, but the way his fingers glide across your waist, and the heat creeping up your spine betrays you. “i can't work like this,” you halfheartedly complain, your voice a little breathier than you had intended.

“come on, babe, let me just finish this,” you pouted, looking up at your boyfriend with a mix of frustration and affection. he responded with a gentle smile and a sigh of resignation. “alright, alright, i’m sorry,” he said, pushing himself up from the floor to give you a quick, tender kiss. afterward, he eased back down onto the floor, his free arm resting comfortably behind his head as he settled in with a relax expression.

gojo watches with a relaxed smile as you continue your work, his gaze shifting between the colorful stars and spirals on his arm and your concentrated expression. occasionally, his hand would sneak beneath your shirt or stroke against your arm, as if to remind you of his presence and the effect he had on you. you could feel the heat from his skin through your thin fabric, making you shiver each time he touched you.

“you're so focused,” he remarks with a hint of teasing, “it's quite adorable.”

just as you reach for another marker, the sound of the front door opening makes you look up. geto suguru has entered the apartment, his tall, lean figure filling the doorway.

“i'm home,” he says, his footsteps entering the living room after a beat. he looks surprised to find you and gojo sprawled on the carpet, surrounded by a chaotic array of colorful pens. his gaze flicks between the artwork covering gojo's arm to your flushed face. a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

“well, this is a colorful sight,” he observes, stepping closer to the carpet, his eyes drifting over the markings on gojo's arm. the white-haired boy grins up at him, his hand still resting underneath you, “well, our little artist here decided to use me as her canvas.”

geto's gaze shifts to you, raising an eyebrow in amusement, “quite the masterpiece you've created there, love,” he looks down on you before crouching beside you.

you look up, smiling at your other boyfriend before kissing him on the cheek, “how is your day, baby?” you ask, soft and gentle as you continue to lie on your stomach and draw on gojo's arm. geto smiles warmly, his eyes crinkling slightly at your affectionate greeting. he leans down to return the kiss gently, his hand brushing against your cheek.

“my day was fine, darling,” he replies, his voice smooth and soothing. he glances down at the artwork you're creating on gojo's arm, his gaze flickering over the bright, vibrant stars and spirals. “i see you've been keeping our dear satoru entertained,” he teases, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

gojo chuckles, “oh, I'm very entertained, trust me.” he gives your breast a gentle squeeze for emphasis. “our little artist has quite the touch.” geto chuckles, shaking his head at gojo's antics. he crouches down beside you, his gaze lingering on your focused expression as you continue your artwork.

he reaches out and threads his fingers through your hair, gently tousling it. “and how are you doing, my love?” he asks, his voice low and affectionate. you smile, “my day is good, satoru can't stop squeezing my boobs but it was good.”

gojo lets out a laugh, feigning innocence, “hey, i can't help it. they're soft and pleasant to touch.” geto rolls his eyes affectionately, giving gojo a playful nudge. “control yourself, satoru,” he says sternly, yet there's a hint of amusement in his voice. he shifts his attention back to you, his hand still carding through your hair. “ignore this shameless man here. i'm glad your day was good, despite his. . . antics.”

gojo pouts petulantly, his hand still resting on your hip. “i can't help it, they're just. . . right there,” he defends, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

geto huffs, shaking his head again at gojo's unabashed behavior. “you're incorrigible,” he mutters, though his voice lacks any real annoyance. he gazes down at you, a tender look in his eyes, “don't let him distract you too much, dear."

geto watches as you continue to draw on ojo's arm, a small smile playing on his lips. after a minute, he turns his attention to you, his hand reaching out to touch your shoulder gently.

“can i have a turn too?” he asks, his voice is soft but hopeful. gojo's eyes widen slightly in surprise, his hand pausing on your hip. “hey, hey. what's with this sudden request?” he asks, mock-jealousy in his tone. but you can tell by the flicker of interest in his eyes that he doesn't mind sharing the spotlight a bit. geto simply rolls his eyes, a hint of amusement at gojo's reaction.

“of course, babe. you can have a turn,” you reply, shifting your attention to geto without paying attention to gojo for a moment. gojo makes a mock cry of protest, but there's a hint of a grin on his face. “hey, no budging in line!”

geto chuckles at gojo's theatrics, shaking his head at his childish behavior. “oh, hush, you had your turn,” he teased. you smile at them both, enjoying the playful dynamic between the two. “don't worry, he won't take too long,” you reassure gojo, glancing over at him with a playful smirk.

gojo pouts, but there's a glimmer of enjoyment in his eyes at the sight of you interacting with both of them. as geto peels off his uniform, revealing his lean, toned body, your eyes widen in appreciation. you can't help but admire his muscular frame, and a smile spreads across your face.

gojo lets out a mock-disgusted groan, clearly annoyed at how easily he's been replaced in your affections. “oh, come on,” he whines, “you're drooling over him already?” geto chuckles at gojo's complaint, taking a moment to flex his muscles, clearly teasing both you and gojo.

you roll your eyes at gojo's pouting, “oh, shush. you just don't want to share the attention, do you?”

meanwhile, geto is thoroughly enjoying the fact that he has your undivided attention, his eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and affection. “come on baby, lie here and let me put stars on you,” you giggle like a teenage girl who just got her first kiss from her crush. you pat a spot in front of you. geto grins at your giggling excitement, your enthusiastic invitation making him chuckle. he obliges, settling down in front of you, placing his head on gojo's stomach.

gojo, still feigning annoyance, huffs but can't help but also secretly enjoy the sight of the two of you together and the feeling of his boyfriend on his skin. “i feel like a piece of furniture here,” he complains jokingly. you puff a laugh, “come on, baby, don't be like that. i spend hours putting all these little stars on you,” you give him a peck on the lips, “i'll let you put stars on me too if you let me do him first, hm?” you caressing his arm that is now covered in colorful stars lovingly.

gojo's expression softens as you reassure him, his annoyance melting away under your gentle touch. “well, when you put it that way. . .” he mutters, reluctantly agreeing to your suggestion. he looks down at his arm, admiring the colorful stars you've drawn on it. “alright, fine,” he concedes, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “but you're not allowed to complain if the stars i draw are messy.” you shook your head, “i won't baby.” you give him another peck on the lips and arm before smiling at him, your eyes sparkling as you look at him.

“you're such a baby, toru,” geto comments before rolling his eyes.

gojo huffs at geto's comment, playfully sticking his tongue out. “i'm not a baby,” he protests, his pout reemerging. “i just happen to appreciate the work my lovely artist is doing.”

you chuckle at their banter, amused by their sibling-like rivalry. “let him pout, babe,” you say to geto, patting gojo's stomach gently, “it's endearing.”

geto shakes his head, amused by gojo's sulking, “you're such a drama queen, satoru.” gojo sticks out his tongue again, clearly reveling in the banter. “oh, shut up. i'm just adding some entertainment to this little art session.” you try to hold back a laugh, enjoying the bickering between them. “alright, you two, can you behave for a little bit so i can finish?”

“besides,” you continue, grabbing a marker and shifting your attention to geto's bare torso, “he's just jealous he's not the center of attention right now.” you begin tracing a few stars on geto's chest, your fingertips grazing over his skin as you work.

geto lets out a content sigh as you begin drawing on his chest. his muscles flex slightly under your touch, a soft hum escaping his lips. he glances over at gojo, who is watching the two of you intently. “jealous, huh?” he teases, a lazy smirk on his face. “is his giant ego feeling threatened again?”

gojo huffs, but there's a playful gleam in his eye. “hey, i'm not jealous,” he defends, “i'm just. . . observant? and i happen to notice when i'm not the center of attention,” he pout, slightly rolling his eyes, realizing how stupid he sounds.

he pokes geto's side, causing him to jump slightly, still ticklish even in his relaxed state. “don't forget who's the real star here,” he adds, giving you a wink. geto swats away gojo's hand, rolling his eyes at his friend's antics. “yeah, yeah, keep reminding us all how great you are,” he quips back, his tone affectionate yet teasing.

you can't help but chuckle at their banter, finding it endearing how they can go from flirting with you to bickering like siblings in a matter of seconds. you continue working on geto's chest, tracing swirling patterns and stars over his smooth skin. geto's gaze drifts up to you, admiring your focused expression as you draw. he smiles, enjoying the feeling of your touch on his skin.

“you really love doing this, huh?” he comments, his voice is soft and affectionate. his purple irises never leave your face, drinking every second of you drawing little stars around his scars.

you glance up at him with a mischievous smile, “oh, absolutely. it’s not every day i get to add a touch of sparkle to such a handsome canvas. besides, watching you enjoy it so much makes it even more fun.” you lean in closer, your fingers brushing lightly against his skin as you continue your artwork. “i might just make this my new favorite hobby,” you give his skin a little kiss.

gojo, sensing an opportunity to steal some of the spotlight back, pipes up, “hey, what about me? I let you paint all over me too, ‘yknow.” you glance over at gojo, a coy smile playing on your lips. “oh, don't worry, baby. i didn't forget about you for even a moment.”

you reach over and give gojo's arm a reassuring caress, your fingers tracing over the colorful stars. “and you look adorable with all these stars on you.”

gojo grins, pleased that he's regained a bit of your attention. geto rolls his eyes affectionately, commenting, “there he goes again, always needing the attention.” gojo sticks out his tongue at geto in response, before turning his gaze back to you. “hey, it's nice to be appreciated, ‘yknow,” he whines, pouting like a child.

you laugh at his childish behavior, shaking your head in amusement. “oh, you're always appreciated, you big baby,” you say, giving him another affectionate caress.

geto chuckles, commenting again, “he's such a spoiled brat.” gojo, fully embracing his bratty attitude, puffs out his chest in mock pride. “damn right i'm a spoiled brat. the brat who gets all the attention.” geto rolls his eyes again but can't help but laugh at gojo's antics. “and he's proud of it too. such a child.”

you shake your head, continuing your work on geto's chest, enjoying the friendly banter between the two. gojo rolled his eyes before drifting his eyes to your bare thigh as you were still lying on your stomach, making his face eye-level with your thigh. gojo's eyes narrow upon noticing the bare skin of your thigh, exposed as you continue working on drawing on geto's chest. he can't help but admire the sight, his gaze fixated on the soft skin.

gojo's hand slowly creeps its way over, tracing a lazy pattern on the inside of your thigh, just above behind your knee. you stop for a moment to turn your head and see what gojo were doing before looking at geto who's already looking at him at the same time.

“just let him be, at least he's quiet,” you tell the boy before he gets a chance to throw another comment. a soft laugh escaped geto's lips, chuckles at your comment as he watches gojo's hand travel farther up your thigh, his fingers tracing absentmindedly over your skin.

he can tell from the look on gojo's face that he's completely distracted and fixated on your thigh, completely entranced by the sight before him. “oh, he's definitely not quiet,” geto comments, a small smirk on his face, “he's just drooling silently.” gojo's fingers continue to trace gently over your skin, his touch becoming more purposeful as he slowly inched his way upward. his eyes are half-lidded, his attention fully focused on the exposed skin of your thigh.

he doesn't even bother to respond to geto's comment, too lost in the sight of your bare leg, his mind wandering to all the things he wants to do to you. you shook your head, a defeated sigh leave your lips, “he's such a pervert.” geto simply chuckled at your comment, his gaze flickering over to gojo's fixated expression. “that's an understatement," he quipped.

geto nodded, his eyes following gojo's movements with a mix of amusement and resignation. “that he is. always fixated on the most inappropriate things.” he watches as gojo's hand moves higher, now gently caressing the sensitive skin just above your knee. “i swear, he has the tact of a child sometimes.”

gojo, still entranced by your thigh, finally snaps out of his daze upon hearing your comment. “baby, I'm not a pervert,” he protested, almost whining, though his voice lacked any real conviction, “i'm just. . . appreciating the view.” geto couldn't help but roll his eyes at gojo's weak defense. “yeah, sure you are,” he snorted, not buying it for a second.

he watched as gojo continued to caress your thigh, his fingers gently tracing patterns on the soft skin. “appreciating the view, my ass,” he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“more like salivating over it like a starving man,” he added, shaking his head in amusement. geto rolls his eyes, “‘appreciating the view’ with his eyes all glazed over and not a single coherent thought running through his brain.“

gojo huffs, but he doesn't protest further, knowing that there's a hint of truth in geto's words. his hand continues to wander up your thigh, his touch feather-light as he slowly inches towards the hem of your skirt. geto chuckled again, shaking his head at gojo's lack of denials.

“exactly,” he agreed, a smirk on his lips, “he's just a man controlled by his primal urges. and right now, his primal urge is to cop a feeling.” gojo pouts a little, but can't argue with geto's assessment. his hand slowly travels higher up your thigh, his touch becoming bolder, his fingers tracing the edge of your skirt, gently inching under the hem. “baby it's ticklish,” you move your leg the gojo's touch slightly.

gojo pauses his movements, hearing your protest. he glances up at you, a look of innocent concern on his face. “ticklish, huh?” he says, his hand still hovering just under the hem of your skirt, his index finger tracing small circles on your thigh.

gojo feigns innocence, “oops, my bad. i was just... exploring.” geto snorts, clearly amused by the interaction. “yeah, ‘exploring.’ that's one way to put it.” gojo rolled his eyes, feeling called out, but he can't deny the truth in geto's words. his finger continues to trace small circles on your thigh, his touch a mixture of feather-light and purposeful.

“i can't help it,” he defends, his voice sounding almost whiny, “you just have such soft skin, and... well, it's right there, begging to be touched." geto laughs again, shaking his head at gojo's feeble excuse. “right, it's all my fault. my skin just magically calls out to your wandering hands,” you mock, the sarcasm in your tone clear.

despite your sarcastic remarks, your expression holds a hint of amusement, clearly enjoying the banter. you glance down at where gojo's hand is gently caressing your thigh, his touch still light and teasing. “you're like a dog with a bone, ‘toru. once you get ahold of something, you just don't know how to let go.” gojo pouts again, feigning offense at geto's dog comment. “hey, i'm not a dog,” he replies, his hand still wandering higher up your thigh, almost reaching the bare skin under your skirt.

“and i can let go... when i want to,” he adds defiantly, “i just happen to really enjoy holding onto this particular... bone.” you rolled your eyes before sighing, continue to draw a stars around geto's torso “i swear I'm gonna die young with all of this headache you two gave me.” geto chuckles at your exasperated comment, enjoying the banter between the three of you. “hey, don't blame us for the inevitable early grave,” he replies with a smirk, “we're just adding a bit of excitement to your life.”

gojo, not wanting to be outdone, chimes in with a wink, “yeah, think of us as your personal stress relievers.”

you snort a little before nodding your head, sarcastically replying, “yeah right, more like adding more stress.” geto chuckles, “aw baby, don't be like that, you know from the start we don't promise you this relationship will be stress-free,” he pushes himself upward to give you kisses before lying back.

you playfully roll your eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you continue to draw the stars on his torso, feeling his muscles flex underneath your touch. “oh, i know,” you reply, shaking your head in mock resignation. “but a girl can still hope, can't she?”

“yeah, sorry to break it to you, princess,” gojo jokingly says, his hand now gently gliding from your thigh to your hip, caressing the skin just above the hem of your skirt.

“but you knew what you were signing up for when you agreed to date us,” he adds, his voice laced with playful confidence. you take a deep breath, “that sucks,” supporting your face with one hand as you lazily draw on geto's skin. geto smirks, enjoying your half-hearted complaint. “yeah, it's pretty rough,” he replies sarcastically, “having two handsome and charming boyfriends who love and adore you. oh, the hardships you face.”

gojo pipes up, his hand continuing to explore your hip bone under your skirt, “oh, shut up. she should feel honored to have us.” you let out a laugh, shaking your head at their banter. despite your faux complaints, you secretly loved their back-and-forth banter, finding their playful bickering amusing.

“oh, trust me, i feel incredibly honored,” you retort with an affectionate eye roll, “having two massive, needy babies fighting for my attention all the time. it's a dream come true. now my mansion’s ballroom is a bit too crowded, and my collection of rare art pieces isn’t fitting in my oversized vault,” you sarcastically joke.

gojo and geto both roll their eyes playfully at your sarcastic comment, but they can't help but smile at your clever quip. geto laughs, shaking his head. “oh, yeah, it's such a burden having two wealthy, successful sorcerer— not to mention, the strongest in your life. your poor bank account is suffering.”

gojo chimes in with a grin, “and your poor heart must be strained from all the love and affection we shower on you.” you feign a sigh, placing the back of your hand on your forehead dramatically. “oh, the struggles i face,” you say dramatically, your voice dripping with fake sadness. “having two handsome, charming men constantly pestering me for attention and showering me with gifts. it's absolutely terrible.”

gojo and geto exchange a knowing glance, both aware that you're laying on the sarcasm heavily. but they also know that deep down, you secretly love the attention they give you.

“oh, poor princess indeed,” geto says, shaking his head in mock sympathy. “it must be exhausting having two devoted boyfriends who worship the ground you walk on,” gojo sympatheticly said, tapping your ass. you let out a sigh, “i can't do anything about it, can i?” geto and hojo both give you playful grins, shaking their heads in unison.

“nope, not a damn thing,” gojo replies with a shrug, his hand still slowly tracing patterns on your hip under your skirt. geto chimes in, “you're stuck with us, princess. no backsies.”

“poor me,” you shook your head in defeat.

you tap geto's abs before changing your position to sitting, “now my turn,” you demand, giving the two boys a marker. pulling your crop top out of your body, leaving you on nothing but your pink bra and lying on your back on the floor. both boys stare at you with an almost predatory gleam in their eyes, clearly enjoying the sight before them. they take the markers from you, their gaze hungry and appreciative.

gojo twirls one of the markers in his hand, a sly smile on his lips, “oh, princess, you spoil us.” geto nods in agreement, his eyes roaming over your body, “you're giving us a blank canvas to work with. this should be fun.” both boys move closer to you, each taking one side of your body. gojo's hand begins tracing lines on your stomach, his touch firm and purposeful, while geto's fingers glide over your sides, drawing swirling patterns with the marker.

they work in tandem, their eyes occasionally locking with each other as they take in the sight of your body, their markers moving in perfect sync across your skin. “you're such a good canvas,” gojo murmurs, his voice low and husky.

“i know my love, now shut up and do your job,” you pinch his cheek softly. gojo and geto both chuckle at your demand, but they comply, focusing their attention back on your body, their fingers and markers gliding across your skin, their movements precise and deliberate.

“yes, ma'am,” gojo replies with mock obedience, his lips curving into a smirk. “we'll shut up and get back to work,” geto adds, his hand moving over your ribs, tracing small stars with his marker. they continue to draw on your bare skin, their eyes fixed on their task, their markers moving quickly as they fill in different areas. they occasionally glance at each other, exchanging secretive grins as they admire their work.

“you know,” gojo murmurs, his marker tracing the line of your hip bone, “we could do this every night if you wanted.” you raised your eyebrows, with a little smirk on your lips your replies, “or we could go to a tattoo shop and make this permanent,” you jokingly tells your boyfriends. gojo and geto both pause for a moment at the mention of tattoos, their eyes flickering towards each other. they exchange a glance, contemplating your suggestion.

gojo grins, the idea is clearly appealing to him. “you know, that's not a bad idea.” he says, returning his attention to drawing on your body. geto nods, a smirk playing on his lips. “yeah, we could mark you as ours permanently. make sure everyone knows who that gorgeous body belongs to.” they continue their work, their markers gliding across your skin, their touches becoming more possessive and claiming with every stroke.

“wouldn't it be hot?” gojo asks, his hand tracing an intricate pattern on your ribs, “you walking around covered in our marks, a permanent reminder that you're ours, body and soul.“ you chuckle, slightly amused by their reaction to your joke, “yeah, that's not gonna happen.” gojo and geto both pout playfully at your rejection of the idea, their eyes filled with mock disappointment.

“aww, come on,” gojo whines, his marker continuing to draw lines on your upper body, “why not? you'd look even hotter with a bunch of our tattoos all over you.” geto nods, a smirk playing on his lips, “yeah, imagine how jealous everyone would be, seeing all those ink marks on your body, knowing they can never touch you the same way we can.”

you snort, shaking your head while your eyes are focusing on the ceiling, “you're delusional, baby, nobody gonna feel that way.” both boys feign offense at your comment, their expressions hurt and indignant. “what do you mean, nobody's going to feel that way?” gojo protests, his marker pausing on your lower abdomen. “you're like, the most gorgeous person alive. of course, people would be jealous.”

geto nods in agreement, his fingers tracing a star on your hip, “yeah, you underestimate your own allure. you're a walking dream, princess.” you breathe a hearty laugh, ruffle your boyfriends' hair, “you guys are so sweet, you're making me feel good about myself, no wonder why i love you two so much.”

they continue their work, their markers and fingers moving in synchronized harmony, filling in the spaces on your body with their artwork. gojo glances up at you, his eyes meeting yours, his expression soft and loving, “you know we adore you, right? every inch of you, inside and out.”

geto nods, his gaze drifting over your body, appreciating every line and contour. “you're our world, princess. we're hopelessly smitten with you.” their words hang in the air, their sincerity and admiration for you clear in their voices. their markers continue to glide over your skin, their touch gentle and reverent.

they finish up their artwork, their markers making a few final strokes before they both sit back and admire their work. they move their gazes over your body, taking in every mark and design they've made. “there,” gojo says, a satisfied smile on his lips, “perfect.”

geto's eyes roaming over your body. “damn, you look even sexier covered in our artwork.” they both take a moment to appreciate their handiwork, their eyes roaming over your body, their expressions filled with pride and satisfaction. the artwork they've drawn on your skin is intricate and beautiful, a masterpiece of their combined effort.

“you really do look amazing,” gojo murmurs, his hand gliding over your hip. “we did a damn good job,” geto says, his gaze lingering on your stomach, “our masterpiece in the flesh."

you look down at the artwork adorning your skin, your eyes widening with genuine admiration. a playful smile spreads across your face as you turn to face them. “well, i must say, you two make quite the artistic team. if this is your idea of a masterpiece, i’d say you’ve outdone yourselves. i might have to start charging for these kinds of commissions!” you give them both a teasing wink, clearly impressed by their work.

you flash them a sly grin and say, “alright, art critics, i need you to snap a photo of your masterpiece. i’m sure you’ll want to show this off as much as i do. so, let’s get that camera ready—this level of artistry deserves to be immortalized, don’t you think?” uou strike a dramatic pose, making sure the artwork is front and center.

they both burst out laughing at your playful words, their eyes gleaming with amusement. they're both clearly pleased by your praise and appreciate your playful banter. gojo grins widely, his hands already moving to fish out his phone. “oh, princess, you have no idea. this isn't just a masterpiece, it's a work of art that should be displayed in a museum."

“damn right,” geto agrees, his eyes still wandering over your body, admiring the artwork he and gojo created. he leans over to grab his own phone, ready to capture the perfect shot of you and their masterpiece. “no need to tell us twice, we’ll document this masterpiece, alright. say cheese.”

gojo and geto both aim their phones at you, framing the artwork on your skin with the camera lenses. they snap a few shots, each from a different angle, making sure to capture every intricate detail of their masterpiece. gojo grins as he reviews the pictures on his phone, his eyes roaming over the image with approval. “damn, we've really outdone ourselves this time,” giving the boy beside him a high-five.

geto nods in agreement, admiring the pictures on his own screen. “that's an understatement. you look even hotter than i could have imagined.” they can't help but laugh as you strike a dramatic pose, clearly enjoying yourself. “that's right baby, just like that, look at you, you look like you're ready for a magazine cover,” gojo chuckles to himself, his finger hovering over the camera button.

“or the cover of a high-end art book,” geto adds, a smirk on his lips. “alright, smile pretty for the camera, princess.” you flash a radiant smile, channeling your inner supermodel as you strike a pose, knowing full well that you look absolutely fabulous.

gojo and geto both snap more pictures, clearly enjoying capturing your beauty and the artwork covering your body. “damn, you're a natural,” gojo says, studying the photos on his phone. “we should frame these and hang them up in our rooms.”

“oh? we're gonna hang it up in our rooms?” you ask, a glint of something flashing in your eyes. “well, we better make it worth it.”

so locking your eyes with them, slowly and sensually you take off your pink bra, holding it between your fingers while your other hand covers your breast. playfully, you throw your bra at them before laughing. gojo and geto's eyes widen in surprise as you seductively remove your bra and playfully throw it at them. they both can't help but grin, their gazes immediately locking onto your bare chest.

“damn, baby, you really know how to make a statement,” gojo murmurs, his eyes drinking in the sight of your exposed skin. geto smirks, catching your bra in his hand and hanging it around his neck, his eyes roaming over your chest. “you definitely make hanging up those pictures worth it.” you are lying on your side with your elbow kneeling on the carpet to support your head while your other hand is still covering your bare chest.

“come on, boys, take a picture of me,” you smile at them. they both raise their phones again, their gazes never leaving your form as you strike yet another provocative pose. their hands hold the camera steadily, their fingers poised over the camera button, their eyes still fixed on your body.

“fuck, you look incredible,” gojo breathes, his eyes roving over you, taking in every inch of flesh on display. geto grins, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, “you’re making us want to drop these phones and pounce on you right now, princess.” they both snap a few more photos, focusing on different parts of your body, capturing every curve and contour in all its naked glory. their expressions are filled with desire and admiration as they take in the images on their screens.

“you're a goddamn goddess,” gojo murmurs, his eyes lingering on a particularly risqué photograph of you before adding, “and remember to stay just like that, princess.”

“agreed,” geto nods, his eyes roaming over the photo of you, clearly appreciating every detail. “this is something to keep in our private collection for sure.” you give them a sultry smile, “well, if you’re this impressed now, just wait until you see what i have in store for our private collection. keep those photos safe—I’m planning to give you both plenty more to admire.” you strike a playful pose, teasingly adjusting your position to give them an even better view. gojo and geto exchange a knowing look, their eyes lighting up with excitement and anticipation. they clearly love your playful attitude and the promise of more to come.

“oh, we'll be keeping these photos very safe,“ geto chuckles, his eyes never leaving your body as he continues to take pictures, “and we'll be eagerly awaiting whatever else you have in store for us.”

gojo smirks, his gaze roaming over your body once again, “you really know how to work a camera, princess.“ you look up to them, giving your boyfriends doe eyes as you remove your hand— now fully flashing them your breast. “don't stop now,” you murmur. the tip of your feet moving slowly to geto's abs, purposely open your legs knowing you are wearing nothing underneath your skirt except your pink underwear.

gojo and geto both freeze, their eyes widening as you slowly stretch your feet to press against geto's stomach, your legs opening to reveal your skimpy panties. they're both momentarily speechless, their gazes fixated on your seductive pose.

“holy hell,” gojo gasps, his hands clenching around the edge of his phone as he struggles to take more pictures. “fuck, princess, you're incredible,” geto breathes, his voice low and thick with desire as he looks down at your legs. they both start snapping more pictures, their hands shaky as they try to capture every moment of your seductive display. gojo's eyes dart down to your open legs, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips as he admires the sight between your thighs.

“can't believe how damn shameless you are,” he groans, his gaze still fixed on your body. geto nods in agreement, his fingers gliding over his phone screen, “you're driving us crazy, princess. you know just how to push our buttons.“ gojo's hand moves quickly, his fingers grasping the edge of your skirt and giving it a firm tug, revealing the skimpy pink fabric of your panties. he quickly raises his phone and snaps a picture, his gaze fixated on the lacy material that's barely covering your most intimate parts.

“fuck, you're a sight to behold,” he mutters, his voice low and gravelly.

geto leans closer, his eyes locked on the photo on the phone screen as he adds, “and I didn't think you could get even hotter, but here we are.” they both can't help but admire the photo, their gazes taking in every detail of your exposed skin and the lacy underwear— already planning on their mind about making it as their home screen. gojo's fingers move over the phone screen again, zooming in to get a closer look at the delicate fabric clinging to your skin.

“you really know how to make things difficult for us, princess,” he mutters, his eyes tracing the contour of your hips and thighs outlined by the thin material. geto chuckles, a smirk on his lips as he adds, “we're not gonna be able to concentrate on anything else tonight after seeing this.”

“now, now, wanna try to make me see stars?” your toe slowly moving to the contour of geto's abs making their eyes light up at your words, their lips curving into wicked grins. they both know exactly what you're implying, and they're both more than willing to make it happen.

gojo's gaze darkens, a sly smile on his lips as he sets his phone down. “oh princess, you don't have to ask us twice,” he replies, stepping closer. geto also sets his phone down, a similar expression on his face as he moves closer to you. “we'll make you see the whole damn universe, sweetheart.”

“why don’t we take this party to the bedroom?” you suggest with a playful glint in your eye. gojo and geto both nod in agreement, their eyes filled with desire and eagerness. “i like the way you think, princess,” gojo murmurs, his hand already reaching out to take yours, his touch firm and possessive. geto brushes a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your skin. “lead the way, sweetheart,” he says, his voice low and suggestive.

they help you to stand from the floor. you take their hands, holding their finger before pulling them toward your shared bedroom. “come on, boys,” your voice is soft, sensual, like a siren singing for their prey. you turn around, once again flashing them your bare chest— a jeans skirt and a pair of socks are the only fabric on your body.

their gazes roam over your body as you flash them, their eyes hungrily taking in your bare chest, the exposed skin on your thighs and legs, and the soft fabric of your socks. they both make appreciative noises, their grips on your hand tightening slightly as they follow you towards the bedroom. gojo's eyes roam over your body, his voice low and gruff as he says, “you really know how to make an entrance.”

geto smirk, his gaze still fixated on your curves as he adds, “we're gonna have so much fun with you.” you reach the bedroom, and enter the room, the air thick with anticipation. the boys are right behind you, their hands still intertwined with yours, their eyes still trailing over your nearly naked body with hungry gazes.

gojo closes the door behind him, a sly smile on his lips as he locks it. “now that we're alone, princess,” he says, his voice dripping with desire, “we can focus all our attention on you.”

[nxtaliaistyping]

Oh god, being a maid employed at the Addams family mansion.

Authors note: I love posting the most shameless, self indulgent shit.

18+ smut, bisexual fem reader, threesomes, switch vibes all around

Going feral, you're a young woman who goes for the maid position, being part time means you can still study at college while earning some extra cash. The vibe of the family doesn't put you off, in fact it actually draws you in, which captures the attention of the lord and lady of the house.

Both of them are so in love, always having their hands on each-other as you're interviewed, as they explain to you how they aren't exactly a normal family. And both of them don't miss the way the other's eyes will trace to the image of your thighs peaking out from under your skirt.

After you leave, they can't help but fuck right there on the table, whispering promises to seduce you, to have you under them soon enough.

It starts with your uniform, which you suppose does fit with the old fashioned vibe of the family, however the traditional maid outfit is quite...short. So short in fact that when you bend over to dust, your panties nearly gave poor Uncle Fester a fright as he came in.

Sneaking glances at you as you clean, no matter what you do you have both Morticia and Gomez’s attention. Their eyes are trained on you as you clean their house and cook meals for their children.

“She’s so flawless, so sweet and innocent.”

“Oh Gomez, isn’t she just?”

You could cut the sexual tension with a knife whenever it was just you and them, usually they’d schedule you to be in whenever the rest of the family was out. And the whole time they’d take any excuse to be near you, to gently touch your arm while you speak, to brush your hair out of your eyes as they praise you for the good work you do, how happy they are to have such a devoted maid.

Any of you could crumble first (my money is on Gomez), but when that happens, there’s no stopping the couple from showing you all the earthly pleasures they can. And my god they're a kinky couple.

Their favorite thing to do is to have you in the middle of them both, greedy hands running over every inch of your skin. One of their hands always ends up between your thighs, circling your clit while your other partner's hand would be groping your tits, pinching at your sensitive nipples to make you cry out and whimper for them.

All the while they'll compliment you heavily, praising every inch of you.

"Such a good girl for us, and a gorgeous one too."

"oh tesoro, she's right. You're gorgeous, and all ours."

Or they'd take it in turns. One night, Gomez has you and his wife on your knees for him, kissing eachother over his cock before he fucks you both. Another night, Morticia has you both bound as she tortures you two so deliciously that by the end, you and Gomez are slurring your words. And one glorious night they hand the reigns completely to you, allowing you to be in control.

After a while, the three of you would settle into a routine. You'd come and clean and do their laundry, and in return they'd make you cum at least three times. Most likely they'll up your pay too, telling you how such a gorgeous hardworking girl shouldn't have to worry about finances.

Reaching up to grab something, only to feel Morticia's hands grope under your dress. Bending over slightly and feeling Gomez's bulge pressed firmly against your ass.

Just being their little pet, so eager to serve them in every way <3

[mephisto-reporting]

More to Love: With Sylus

Summary: Sylus wants to spoil you rotten and takes you shopping. But things don't go as planned in the fitting room as your insecurities take over. pairing: Chubby! reader x Sylus Note: Sylus and reader are in an implied relationship. This is based on this request. Content warning: insecurities, self depriciation, body image issues, slightly suggestive towards the end, angst (hurt-comfort).

The boutique’s soft lighting bathed the room in warm, golden hues, casting a glow on the endless racks of designer clothes that stretched before you. Sylus had dragged you out here, his hand firm on your lower back as he guided you into the posh little shop without a word of protest allowed.

“Indulge me, kitten,” he’d said with that signature smirk of his, his silver hair catching the sunset through the boutique’s large windows. “Pick something you like. No limits.”

As if limits had ever existed when Sylus was involved. He was a man of excess, of extravagance, and he was determined to spoil you rotten—even if you argued you didn’t need it. But you relented, knowing there was no saying no to him when he had his mind set. As you browsed through the aisles, your fingers brushed over silken fabrics and embroidered hems, eyes catching on the occasional outfit you usually would pick for yourself, only not in a store like this. Maybe he just liked to see you in pretty things. Maybe he liked watching you fumble over making decisions. But no matter the reason, you couldn’t help but feel a slight warmth bloom in your chest as you picked up a few pieces that caught your eye. His attention was there, but only just.

And then you saw it.

A little black dress, understated yet elegant, with faint red accents that shimmered subtly in the light. It screamed Sylus in every way: sharp, refined, and impossible to ignore. Your chest tightened with a flicker of excitement as you imagined yourself in it, standing next to him in his usual immaculate attire. He’d look at you the way he always did, with that blend of teasing confidence and a softness he reserved only for you. You could picture how well you'd complement each other, the two of you so flawless together that you felt almost… untouchable.

Grabbing it from the rack, you added it to the pile of clothes you’d picked for yourself and headed to the dressing rooms. The velvet curtain whispered shut behind you, enclosing you in a quiet little space with a single mirror framed in warm lights. The changing room felt cold and sterile as you slipped into the dress, carefully pulling it over your body. It should have fit perfectly—after all, you’d picked it out. It was your choice. But as you zipped it up, a knot tightened in your stomach.

The fabric clung to your body in ways it shouldn't have, and not in a flattering manner. It sat all wrong on your bosom, the seams straining against the curves of your chest, barely able to close. You tugged at the zipper, trying to pull it up the side, but it caught painfully against your side, tugging uncomfortably at the soft roll near your bra strap.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, your reflection unfamiliar. The dress, which had seemed so perfect on the rack, now felt like a cruel joke. The skirt, meant to be a silhouette, flared out over your thighs in a way that felt mocking. It hung awkwardly around your thighs in a way that made your legs look thicker, not more elegant. Your belly, which you’d always been conscious of, seemed to bulge in ways that felt out of place, unnatural against the black silk. The faint shimmer of the red accents only seemed to draw attention to the areas you least wanted highlighted.

What is wrong with me?

The voice inside your head was loud now, relentless.

I don’t belong in this dress.

Your fingers clenched the fabric at your sides as a wave of self-consciousness washed over you. The dress wasn’t the problem—it was you.

The mirror seemed to mock you, reflecting back every feature you’d learned to hate over the years. Your belly, round and soft, pushed against the fabric. Your thighs looked larger than ever, the material refusing to lie smooth. Your arms, left bare by the sleeveless design, felt exposed and unwelcome in the polished setting of this boutique.

As you stared, echoes of the past began to surface, unbidden and cruel. Your face twisted into a frown as you turned from side to side. The more you looked at yourself, the more you hated it. The reflection staring back at you seemed foreign, as though it was someone else’s body you’d somehow ended up in.

"You’ve got such a pretty face; you’d be stunning if you lost a little weight,” your mother’s voice chimed in your head, the way it had so many times over the years. Well-meaning, she’d always called it. But the words had planted themselves deep in your heart.

"Are you sure you want seconds?” a friend’s teasing voice from a high school cafeteria, laughing as though it was just a joke. It hadn’t been funny then, and it wasn’t funny now.

"I’m just saying, you’d feel so much better if you exercised more," someone had told you once, their tone dripping with condescension disguised as care.

Your friends in high school, laughing when you couldn’t fit into the trendy outfits they wore, saying, “Oh, don’t worry, you’ve got such a cute face!”

The offhand comment from a coworker last year: “Have you tried keto? I heard it’s great for people like you.”

Your father, well-meaning but always critical, pinching your belly and saying, “You’d be so much prettier if you lost all this fat.”

The memories compounded until your chest tightened with a mix of anger and shame.

God, I look disgusting in this.

And now, in this too-small dressing room with this too-tight dress, those voices joined your own as you whispered to yourself.

"I look ridiculous. Why did I even think I could pull this off? Sylus wouldn’t want to be seen with someone like this. Someone like me."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you forced them back. Crying here would be too much, too embarrassing. You turned away from the mirror, pulling at the dress, wanting nothing more than to get it off. Your breathing hitched as the panic rose, your nails biting into your palms to keep yourself steady. But the tears were already threatening to fall.

The curtain separating you from the world felt as thin as paper and just as fragile. The muffled murmur of boutique shoppers and the faint hum of music didn’t penetrate the storm of thoughts swirling in your head. The dress felt tighter by the second, suffocating, and your own reflection stared back with an almost accusatory glare.

Why did you even think you could look good in this? You were out of place, weren’t you? Not just in the dress, but here—here in this boutique, in Sylus’s world, in his life. The idea of walking out of the changing room, of standing in front of him and seeing that ever-present smirk falter for even a second, was unbearable.

Your fingers fumbled at the zipper, trying to undo it, but your hands were shaking too much to find the tab. The fabric bunched awkwardly around your side, pinching and pulling in a way that only made you hate it more. Hate yourself more. A sharp inhale turned into a shaky exhale as your vision blurred with unshed tears.

He’s going to see right through you. He’ll realize you’re not the kind of person who belongs at his side.

The voices in your head grew louder, and you didn’t even hear his approach until his voice broke through the storm, smooth and teasing, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Kitten,” Sylus drawled, his tone dripping with amusement, “don’t tell me you’ve gotten lost in there. Or are you planning to make me wait all day?”

Your breath caught. “I’m fine. I just… need another minute,” you called out, trying to keep your voice steady, but it cracked ever so slightly. You winced, praying he hadn’t noticed.

But he had. Of course, he had.

“Hmm,” came his thoughtful hum, followed by the sound of his boots against the boutique’s plush carpet. Closer. Too close. “You don’t sound fine, sweetie. Should I come in and—”

“No!” The word came out sharper than you intended, panic rising in your chest. “Just—stay out there. I’ll be out in a second.”

There was a pause. Long enough for you to realize he wasn’t moving away. His teasing edge was gone when he spoke again, quieter this time. “Sweetie. What’s wrong?”

“I said I’m fine!” you snapped, your voice a pitch higher than you intended. You winced at your own tone. The last thing you wanted was for him to push further.

But Sylus was nothing if not persistent. “Sweetie, you’re never fine when you say you are,” he said, the teasing edge returning, but softer now, as though he was testing the waters. “I’m coming in.”

“No, don’t—” Your protest was cut short as the velvet curtain slid to the side.

The curtain shifted slightly, and you turned away from it, clutching the fabric of the dress like a shield.  Sylus stepped into the small dressing room, his broad frame somehow making the space feel even smaller. His usual air of control and confidence filled the room, his sharp crimson eyes immediately locking onto yours. But his smirk faltered as he took you in—your tear-streaked face, your trembling hands, and the ill-fitting dress that clung awkwardly to your frame.

“Sweetie…” His voice was low, laced with genuine concern as he stepped closer. “What’s going on?”

You turned away, hugging yourself tightly. “Nothing. Just go, Sylus. Please.”

He didn’t move. Instead, he reached out, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. “Look at me,” he said, his tone soft but commanding.

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“And why not?” he asked, his brows furrowing. “You’re my kitten, aren’t you?"

You turned away, hugging yourself tightly. “Nothing. Just go, Sylus. Please..I don’t want you to see me like this,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“Like what?” he asked, stepping closer, his hands reaching out but not quite touching you yet. “What are you talking about?”

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut. “Like you’re trying to fix something that’s broken. I’m not—I’m not—” The words caught in your throat, but they spilled out anyway, raw and jagged. “I’m not good enough for this. For you. For any of it.”

His frustration was evident in the way his jaw tightened, but when he spoke, his tone was calm. “Where is this coming from?”

You gestured helplessly at your reflection. “Look at me! This dress—it doesn’t fit. It doesn’t look right. I don’t look right, Sylus. I thought I could—” Your voice broke. “I thought I could make myself… better. For you. But I just… don’t fit.”

The air grew heavy with your words, and for a moment, Sylus didn’t respond. Then, slowly, he stepped forward, his hands firm but gentle as they gripped your wrists, lowering them from where they clutched the dress. His touch was grounding, solid.

“Stop,” he said, his voice soft but commanding. “Stop tearing yourself apart like this.”

You blinked up at him, tears slipping free despite your efforts. “But it’s true. I don’t fit in your world. I don’t even fit in this stupid dress.”

His hand slid down your arm, his fingers curling around yours to still their trembling. “Stop,” he repeated, his voice firm but not unkind.

“No, I need to say it,” you continued, the dam breaking as tears spilled down your cheeks. “You’re this—this untouchable, powerful, perfect man, and I’m just—” You gestured helplessly at yourself, the words catching in your throat. “I’m not good enough for you, Sylus. I’ll never be good enough.”

He was silent for a moment, his jaw tightening as he studied you. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and steady, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something far more serious. “That’s enough of that.”

You blinked at him, startled by the sudden shift in his tone.

“You think I care about any of that?” he said, his eyes boring into yours “Sweetie,” he murmured, his tone laced with exasperation and something deeper—something tender. “You don’t need to fit into anything to be enough for me.”

His fingers brushed your cheek, wiping away a tear. “You think I give a damn about some dress? About whatever bullshit standard you think you’re failing to meet?” His crimson eyes burned with intensity as he spoke, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. “You don’t need to impress me. You already have me wrapped around your finger.”

Your breath hitched, his words sinking in even as you tried to resist them. “But I—”

“No,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “No more of that. Do you know what I see when I look at you?” His hands slid to your shoulders, his grip firm but warm. “I see the person who challenges me, who stands toe-to-toe with me even when she’s scared. The person who’s made my cold, miserable world worth living in.” His lips quirked into a faint smile. “And, if you must know, I happen to think you’re absolutely stunning. Always.”

“But I—” you began, but he cut you off with a shake of his head.

“No buts,” he said firmly. “You don’t need to dress up to impress me. I’m already smitten, in every way possible.”

His words hung in the air, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Slowly, the tightness in your chest began to ease, the storm in your mind quieting as his presence anchored you. He reached for the zipper, his movements careful and deliberate as he began to undo the dress.

“Let’s get you out of this,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “We’ll find something that makes you feel like the goddess you are. And if we don’t, then to hell with the clothes.” Sylus’s hands lingered at the zipper, his eyes meeting yours with a teasing glint as the faintest smirk tugged at his lips. “Though, between you and me, kitten…” he murmured, his voice dipping lower, “I think you’d look better without anything on at all.” His fingers brushed deliberately against your skin as he slid the zipper down further, his touch light but intentional, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

Your cheeks burned, the heat rushing to your face at his boldness. “Sylus…” you began, but the words caught in your throat, swallowed by the intensity of his gaze.

He leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear as he spoke again, his tone a mixture of playful and reverent. “But let me make one thing very clear, sweetie. Clothes or no clothes, none of that matters to me. You’re already perfect to me—just as you are. Nothing you wear or don’t wear is going to change that.”

His hands rested firmly on your hips now, steadying you as the trembling in your legs began to subside. “And by the time I’m done worshiping you, adoring you, loving you over and over again,” he continued, his voice husky, filled with an almost dangerous promise, “you’ll see yourself the way I see you. The way I’ve always seen you. Stunning, irresistible, absolutely mine.”

You shivered, not from the chill of the room, but from the weight of his words and the warmth in his touch. He tilted your chin up with one finger, forcing your eyes to meet his. “You’ll see it, sweetie. I’ll make sure of it. Because in my eyes, you’re more than enough—you’re everything.”

The air between you was thick with unspoken emotion, the tension melting into something softer, something unyieldingly honest. His lips brushed your forehead, lingering there for a moment before he pulled back, his hands never leaving your sides. “I’ll remind you every single day, sweetie. Over and over again, until there’s no room in your mind for anything but how much I adore you. Do you understand?”

You nodded, tears prickling at your eyes again—but this time, they weren’t born of pain or self-doubt. They were tears of relief, of something lighter and more hopeful.

“I’ll believe it,” you whispered, your voice trembling but earnest. “I’ll try.”

Sylus’s smirk softened into a smile, his thumb brushing away the tear that escaped down your cheek. “That’s all I ask. But just so you know…” His voice turned playful again, his lips quirking up at the corners. “I’m not above a little convincing, sweetie. And believe me, I’m very persuasive.”

“So,” he said, his smirk returning, though softer now, “what do you say we ditch this boutique? I’m thinking we’ve got better things to do than fuss over dresses that don’t deserve you anyway.” His thumb stroked gently over your hip, his touch grounding and sure.

The storm within you calmed as he pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if shielding you from the weight of your insecurities. For the first time in what felt like forever, you believed that maybe—just maybe, you could accept yourself just the way you are, just the way he did.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

[wakkass]

Continuing the theme of grown-up characters, I drew Amber. I'm so proud of her arc of becoming the crown princess and so I really wanted to draw her as the queen (of my heart).

Even though it's not full length, I still played with the details of her outfits because, unlike Sofia, her style is more festive, I think. She seemed to have stepped out of a ceremonial portrait, and this is due not only to Amber’s love for jewelry, but also to her status. I see her as a wonderful queen, so much so that even her appearance is flawless.

[naeverse]

Drunken Love

A/N: OMG guys, it took forever to write this due to my busy schedule as of late, but my classes are now complete. Hooray! 😆🥳 Thank you all for your patience, and I hope you enjoy. ❤️❤️ Art generated on: niji・journey

🥃staring: FatherBestFriend!Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

      🍴preview: Without looking at him, you nodded, feeling his burly arm around your waist and soon his breath fanning against your ear. “I want you to forget about your troubles and give your worries to me to bear.” He uttered, caressing your lower back in gentle, loving circles. 

“And in return, allow me to make things better for you, mi amor.” 

💰summary: After four years of studying abroad, you return home to a 'Welcome Home' party hosted by your father. However, you quickly realize that nothing has changed—your father remains the same rude and selfish man, solely focused on money and his business. As before, you're expected to conform to his strict rules and spend your days under his watchful eye. But with just a glance, Miguel O’Hara, your father’s best friend and business partner, seems to shatter all your desires to comply with your father's suffocating expectations, and offers an enticing escape...

Just like before…

🔥tw/cw: Age Gape, Big Dick Miguel, Body Worship, Car Sex, Cock Bulge, Cunnilingus, Desperation, Dirty Talk, Forbidden love, Modern AU, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Size Difference

❤️‍🔥Pet names: Amor (Love), Bebè (Baby), Cariño (Darling), Mi amor (My love) Princesa (Princess), Querida (Dear)

     🖤Rating: 18+ explicit I SMUT I

 🥀 Word Count: 8.2k words

As you stepped through the wrought iron gates of your father’s manor, a wave of nostalgia washed over you. It had been four years since you last set foot here, having been away studying abroad. Now, back home, everything felt familiar...

But not in a good way.

The scent of freshly cut grass mingled with the aroma of sizzling meat on the grill, filling the air as your heels clicked cautiously on the smooth paved pathways leading to the center of your father’s luxurious backyard, where your 'Welcome Home' party was to be held. Yet, deep down, you knew it wouldn’t be the warm reception you hoped for.

The atmosphere exuded polished formality, with every blade of grass meticulously groomed to perfection. The yard held an aura that compelled one to straighten their posture and don their most radiant smile. Small tables, draped with white cloth, adorned the grassy area, displaying an array of finger foods and appetizers. Servants circulated with trays of alcoholic beverages, adding to the air of sophistication. Every attendee was elegantly attired, clad in lavish dresses, uptight suits, diamond necklaces, and gold bands, engaged in hushed gossip in small groups.

‘No wonder Jessica styled me this way,’ you thought, scanning the guests who greeted you with smiles, waves, and brief 'Welcome back's.' Jessica Owens, your personal assistant whom you hadn’t seen in years, had welcomed you at the airport and accompanied you to select a divine outfit tailored to your tastes for the occasion.

A one-shoulder column sequin dress hugged your figure, its scarlet red fabric boasting a leg slit that offered a glimpse of the matching closed-toe, ankle strapped heels you wore. Bold chandelier earrings adorned your ears, drawing attention to your exposed shoulder, while a delicate bracelet with sparkling gemstones adorned your wrist, subtly shimmering in the light.

Makeup further accentuated your beauty—a radiant red lip, sultry eyes, and flawless complexion with highlights completed your look. Your hair, styled as per Jessica's suggestion, cascaded around your face, having been released from an updo to frame your features perfectly.

You could feel eyes on you from every direction, a sensation you didn’t miss on your time away. The overwhelming attention began to stir a wave of nervousness within you. Seeking a moment to collect yourself, you slipped away to a secluded corner of the gathering, observing the events of your supposed 'Welcome Back' party from afar.

Musicians played a steady and upbeat tune, chatter and fraudulent giggles echoed throughout the night. Amongst the festivities, an even more rambunctious laugh caught your attention.

Your father, gleaming in a tailored suit, stood at the center of the gathering. Just like you remembered, his smile was as polished and white as the silverware laid out on the tables, scrubbed to perfection and shining like stars. Studying your father like a book, you couldn’t help but notice his forced chuckles and strained cheeks from grinning too much, a sight that churned your stomach.

After all these years, he remained unchanged—viewing you as nothing more than a tool for gaining him attention.

So why the hell did you expect a warm hug and genuine affection from him without a crowd present? 

Rolling your eyes, you politely signaled to a nearby server to fetch a champagne glass from his tray. You knew you would need it to endure the rest of the evening filled with your father's rehearsed conversations and gestures.

Taking a long sip from your glass, relishing its divine taste and the sizzling burn down your throat. Upon lifting it from your lips with a contented sigh, a voice filled your ears, causing your heart to skip a beat.

"Look at you, all grown up."

The abruptness of the deep, Latino-accented words left you momentarily speechless, a whirlwind of emotions bursting inside you like fireworks against a starlit sky.

There was no mistaking whose voice it belonged to...

It was one you could never forget during your time away, and just thinking about him made butterflies dance in your belly.

"Miggy?" 

You called out the sweet nickname of the older male in shock, turning your gaze up to the towering figure before you, successfully avoiding choking on your champagne in the process.

True to form, his tan face retained its stoic expression, marked by a scowl, tight-knit bushy eyebrows, and stern amber eyes, yet even you could see the familiar corners of his lips draw up into a tight lipped smile. 

"It's nice to see you again, Y/N," he replied nonchalantly, causing your entire face to light up. "Miggy!" You exclaimed, throwing your free arm around his neck as he chuckled lowly at your enthusiasm.

"What did I tell you about hugs, hmm?" he inquired, practically whispering into your ear, though you couldn't ignore the loving undertone in his deep voice. "That you didn't like them, but I do it anyway," you giggled, standing on tiptoes to deepen the embrace due to his towering height. Despite himself, you felt one of Miguel's burly arms wrap around you, pulling you close in return.

You sighed in contentment, his body heat engulfing your smaller self compared to his massive 6’9 height and muscular figure. The Latino's woodsy and wealthy cologne clouded your senses just like before, as the nostalgic feeling of security filled your being. 

I take it you missed me, Cariño," he uttered from above you, his gruff voice rumbling through the expanse of his chest. You nodded, snuggling into his beige collared and button-up top, eliciting a rare hum of contentment from the typically stoic man.

After a while, his arm gave your body another comforting squeeze before reluctantly pulling away. You pushed back the pang of sadness at his sudden absence of warmth.

Clearing your throat, you redirect your focus, following Miguel's gaze to the bustling, fancy gathering, a tranquil silence settling between the two of you.

"How was studying abroad?" Miguel's deep voice, though always soothing, retained its usual coldness. "It was honestly fun," you smiled, recalling the freedom you enjoyed without the scrutiny of your father's strict eye. To your surprise, Miguel scoffed in amusement, shaking his head.

Your eyebrows raised in confusion, and you turned to see him taking a sip from the glass of bourbon you hadn't noticed before in his hand. "What is it?" you urged, causing him to shake his head dismissively once more. But upon his amber eyes catching your growing pout, an expression you knew was always his weakness, he heaved a sigh.

"Dios mío, ese maldito puchero tuyo…" He muttered under his breath, turning to face you fully. "I'm not... pleased with the amount of 'fun' you had away," the older male stated, leaving you confused.

"W-what are you talking about?" you chuckled, watching him nod towards your champagne glass. "You are drinking... You didn't before," he acknowledged.

You followed his gaze to your half-empty champagne glass, a remnant of your previous gulp. "Why does it matter? It's just one glass," you stated, emphasizing your point with another sip, which seemed more like a gulp in Miguel's eyes.

"Querida, before, you could barely handle half a glass, let alone one," he scolded, unable to tear his eyes away from your alcoholic beverage. You gave Miguel a small smile, his overprotectiveness—a trait you actually missed while you were away—evident in every word he uttered.

"Relax," you tried to reassure. "I can handle my alcohol now, Miggy. There's no need to worry." At your words, he huffed, turning his gaze from you back to the gathering unfolding before you. "So you went abroad to become a party animal?" he asked under his breath, the question unsettling you like a disturbed hive. Your face twisted in confusion and a hint of hurt at his comment. "No, I didn't. I went because I wanted to, something I see you still do not understand," you explained, feeling your fingers tighten around the underside of your glass in growing irritation.

Miguel sighed in disapproval, taking a gulp of his dark brown drink. "I just find it hard to believe," he replied. "Studying abroad of all places?" he chuckled, tapping his ringed middle finger against his glass. "I didn't take you as someone to run away from your problems, princesa."

"I didn't run away," you retorted, shooting him a small glare before finding your eyes drawn to your father, who was shaking hands with a well-dressed man and woman. The more you stared at your 53-year-old father, the more your thoughts churned. 

‘Did you leave because of your father?’ you pondered as he was indeed one of the reasons, but mainly you departed to study far away from home to pursue your dreams—something your father greatly opposed.

Being away from your father and his strict rules felt like taking a breath of fresh air. It was the most free you had ever felt. But now, back home, the overwhelming restrictions and harsh regulations felt suffocating, and you wanted nothing more than to retreat back to the paradise you found on your own…

Your thoughts were soon interrupted when a set of ringed fingers gently cupped your chin, turning you to meet the owner of such calloused digits.

With surprise, you found yourself face-to-face with Miguel, his features still stern, his jaw clenched, but his touch gentle, and the coldness in his eyes replaced with something softer.

"I missed you, mi amor..." 

He whispered suddenly, his thumb caressing your skin affectionately. Your heart fluttered at the vulnerability in his words, as memories of every moment spent with him flooded back: Every conversation, every touch, every kiss, and every passionate night rose to the surface of your mind. 

Like a reviving fire, his mere words set your body ablaze. 

You never saw Miguel in this state, never heard him utter something affectionate to you as his love was mostly shown through his actions, making his confession leave you shocked and speechless...

Despite your disapproval and your desire for him to move on, Miguel had waited for you as he promised. The thought of you being gone from his side was unbearable for him. 

Every waking moment was excruciating, every sleeping night insufferable.

He knew how much you wanted to pursue your own dreams and be free of your father, whom Miguel knew all too well as someone very snobbish and selfish. But being away from you for so long was a pain he couldn't bear.

You and Miguel loved each other in secret, the two of you became so good at pretending, one only saw you two as just friends. But your father and Miguel were close—

Very close.

Miguel and your father were business partners before they were best friends. Your father managed the finances and marketing of their shared bourbon line, while Miguel owned distilleries and oversaw production, even owning his own bars where his bourbon was the highlighted beverage.

Their booming business soon forged a friendship, and like welcoming one to the family, your father introduced Miguel to you.

At the time, you were young, and Miguel was evidently older, but when your eyes met, you both fell hard.

You started off as friends, Miguel being a wise, older male you went to for advice, and you were someone who kept Miguel company, even though he once adored being alone. 

The more time you spent together, the deeper your feelings grew, until you both made it official to date in secret.

From then on, private getaways, hidden touches, and shared nights of passion became the norm, despite knowing how enraged your father would be if he discovered such a thing. But neither of you minded; staying attentive and careful kept your secret safe.

It wasn't until you confided in Miguel about your desires to leave and study abroad that reality kicked in.

All at once, your hidden life of fantasy collapsed.

You were going to leave to pursue your dreams, departing from Miguel for four years...

Miguel loathed that, and even more, he despised your reasoning. He wanted it to be because of your strict father, the overbearing rules he'd set upon you. Miguel didn't mind if you left because of him even! But you weren't going for either of those reasons.

"For me, Miggy. I want to go for myself," were the words you stated when he inquired why you must go.

He detested your reason because he knew he shouldn't fight you in the matter; it was what you desired. But he was selfish—possessive even. He wanted you, needed you by his side, so he couldn't accept you leaving him.

Many arguments ensued on the matter. He demanded you to stay, while you found every good reason to leave and achieve your dreams, ones that your father opposed you seeking. It ultimately led to you deciding to put an end to your secret relationship with Miguel.

It wasn't because of the many fights and arguments, but because you knew he loved you too much—too much that you didn't want him to miss you so intensely that it hurt, to the point where it would leave him in an irreparable state. 

To spare you distress and further heartbreak, Miguel agreed to end things, despite his sorrow and disdain at the thought of breaking up. However, while you were concerned about his emotional stability, Miguel's workaholic tendencies got the best of him after your departure—a trait only you could suppress.

He threw himself into his shared bourbon business with your father, meticulously tasting from each of his twenty distilleries, meeting daily with all his workers for updates, making significant improvements on the bars he oversaw, and even holding one-on-one meetings with your father to explore new ways to expand their bourbon industry. He became addicted to caffeine and deprived himself of sleep, to the point where hibernation seemed like the only cure to replenish his exhausted body. 

Miguel worked tirelessly in this manner simply to avoid missing you, and he consumed so much of his own bourbon that he might as well have emptied an entire distillery on his own.

Nevertheless, his attempts were useless…

Miguel thought of you and craved you every day. He spent his days recalling every aspect of you: your smile, your laugh, your fragrance, your hair, your body, and even your affection, which he once found discomforting due to his lack of familiarity with it, but now desired more than ever.

Despite Miguel's best efforts to forget you, he only fell deeper in love with you.  

His days of agony came to an end when Miguel was invited to dinner and golfing with your father. There, on the field, Miguel discovered that you'd be returning back home—back to him.

His heart skipped a beat at the exciting news, leaving him unable to perform a good swing as his golf game with your father proceeded; but to hell with it...

You were returning, and that was all that mattered.

On the day of your Welcome Back party, he found himself picky over his outfit, clicking his tongue and angrily muttering in Spanish at every disappointing attire he came across... until he found the one.

A beige, loosely buttoned top, styled with a matching sienna brown blazer and dress pants was his selection. Pairing it with his attire, he added dark umber oxfords.

To accessorize, the Latino added a complementary belt that matched his shoes and a classic watch with brown leather straps. Gold rings adorned his thick fingers, and a simple chain graced his exposed, muscular throat.

As he put on his outfit for the party, he found himself more nervous than excited. The last few times he'd seen you weren't on good terms. The days of secret getaways, kisses, and passionate touches always led to an argument about your departure, so he was worried you'd still be upset with him…

At the gathering, he found himself eagerly watching the entrance for you, his glass of bourbon in hand. His heart rose and fell with each arrival of another lavishly dressed guest, leading him to believe you wouldn't show.

Until you did...

It felt like everything stopped—the melodic tunes from the musicians faded away, the jumbled conversing of the partygoers ceased—as the only thing he heard was his heart beating loudly against his chest.

You were always beautiful to the older male, but tonight, after not seeing you for so long, you were utterly breathtaking.

His gaze trailed along your figure, remembering all the times he held your form in his hands, felt your body heat, and soft skin. He instantly noticed how enticing that scarlet dress hugged your body, teasing him to do the unthinkable right there, be damned to who was watching.

But amidst his burning desire, in that moment, he could only think one thing, and one thing only: 

"Gosh, I've missed you..." 

Before he could ponder or stop himself, he found himself leaving his spot to walk over to you, and the closer he got, the more his heart felt like it wanted to burst from his chest as flashes of what you shared before played on repeat in his head.

And now as you gazed up into Miguel's hardened amber eyes, you could see love for you in them. His thumb gently tracing patterns along your chin as you were still processing his touch, the closeness and the confession that spilled from his lips.

‘He... missed me?’ You repeated to yourself, almost finding it unbelievable if it wasn't for how he was looking at you as if you were the only woman in the room.

“M-Miggy…” You whispered when suddenly your heart dropped at the sound of another voice approaching.

“Why, if it isn't my little angel?”

Like the speed of light, you jumped away from Miguel to cast your eyes onto your father, instinctively gaining the urge to hide behind your champagne glass.Miguel's face returned to its usual expression of stoicism, hating how the both of you were interrupted. 

“Hello, father,” you said, lacking your previous enthusiasm that you showed Miguel, however, your father ignored you, hastily turning his eyes to his best friend and business partner instead. “And, of course, Miguel O'Hara,” your father grinned, giving the Latino a firm handshake before going into a ramble. “I'd love to set a meeting with you about the idea of releasing a limited-edition bourbon,” he proposed in a jolly tone, business seeming to be the only topic he spoke of.

“Imagine just how much buzz would circulate amongst customers, the collectors, and don't forget the drive sales,” your father beamed at the thought as you watched the interaction between the two men in silence.

Miguel simply grunted to show his attentiveness, but neither agreed nor disagreed with your father's business idea. “I'd rather enjoy welcoming your daughter home. We can speak about business at another time,” Miguel stated, casting a glance over at you before turning his sharp gaze back to your father.

Your dad's smile faltered at being dismissed, clearing his throat. “Of course, of course,” he concurred, turning to you due to Miguel’s mentioning of you, his daughter. “I'm happy you are… back, daughter. I hope you used your time away wisely,” he added, causing your eyebrows to narrow. ‘Wisely? What the hell does that mean?!’ you thought, knowing your father was an expert at backhanded comments and sly insults that can be described like poisoned cake—you never noticed the venom underneath his sweetness.

“I did. I enjoyed doing something to benefit myself for a change,” you politely said, adding more salt into the wound by downing the rest of your champagne. Your father's eyes looked down at your empty glass and then at you in irritation.

Casting a fake smile, he glanced at Miguel. “My apologies in advance, my friend, but it's nothing new seeing my disobedient daughter behave so poorly,” your father said, feeling your stomach twist into knots when he looked back at you, his facade of kindness dissolved into a snarl. “She thinks that she owns the place after leaving for a few years, it's only right I put her back in her place,” your father stated to Miguel, more than you.

Keeping your gaze on your horrible parent rather than the older Latino, you waited for your father's harsh words knowing they were to rain down on you like hellfire, and like anticipated…

it did…

“Listen here, girl, you might have fled from here for whatever reason, but I didn't,” he spat, eyes full of hatred staring back at you. “Without me, our family name would have been forgotten long ago; but for the entirety of my fifty-three years of life, I've worked my ass off to provide for us, and I'll continue to do so until my dying breath,” he said in anger between the three of you.

“And now that you've returned, I won't allow my selfish brat of a daughter to ruin things for me,” your father growled as you narrowed your eyes at him, reciprocating his disdain, but it only seemed to amuse him even more. He chuckled, giving your cheek a harsh pinch. “So do not think being away changes a thing, I expect the same from you as before—obedience and perfection,” he said, patting your face with each word. “Understand, or do I need Miguel here to say it in Spanish for you?” he asked with a smirk as it took everything to prevent the frustrated and angry tears from spilling down your cheeks.

You couldn't hear or see anything or anyone, only feel the overwhelming feeling of entrapment once again. It engulfed your being, feeling like a pair of hands were strangling you, and you were powerless against it…

All over again.

With a shaky breath, you stared back at him with eyes full of raging fire. “Yes…I fucking understand,” you said through gritted teeth, causing the businessman to laugh.

“Good and clean that attitude, girl. I never did like that mouth of yours,” he said, glancing over at Miguel, whose face was still completely hardened, emotionless, but a kinder tone was used by your father when speaking with him. “If you'd like, the meat is being served at the buffet table as we speak, my friend. I heard it's very tender and is satisfactory when hot,” your father smiled. “But I hope you enjoy the gathering. Miguel. Daughter,” he growled, casting you a glare and a hint of disgust found in the way he addressed you before he departed entirely—disappearing into the bustling yard of elegantly clothed persons and leaving you enraged. 

You stared at the spot your father previously stood in, a blazing fire of anger sizzling inside your being. Gripping your wine glass so tightly your knuckles whitened, you turned on your heel, shoving the empty cup into a passing servant's hands on your way out. 

Everything faded around you as the only thing you desired in that moment was getting away—from this party, rich society, and most importantly, your asshole of a father. You didn’t walk far before a large hand grasped your wrist, pulling you into a secluded spot out of the ear and eyeshot of the partygoers.

With a piercing gaze, you looked up, ready to release the fury that had grown inside of you when your eyes met Miguel’s narrowed, yet, concerned ones. His towering frame cornered you against the trunk of one of your father’s massive oak trees in his backyard, a tree he ordered to be particularly planted in this area.

Although Miguel normally didn’t care for others, finding empathy a hard thing, his heart tugged whenever you became like this. “Are you alright? It looks like you want to strangle someone?” He asked, amber eyes tracing every detail of your face in search of what you were feeling inside, but your turmoil was evident.

You released an unsteady exhale, the calm before the brewing storm. “Y-You saw him!” You exclaimed. “T-That rich bastard that has his money shoved so far up his damn ass, he’ll probably believe the sky is green if it means his pockets will be filled.” You ranted in anger, every word making you feel so much better, leaving you to continue your spurge. “And he’s so controlling that it’s suffocating; whenever my father is in the room…, I-I feel like I’m dying, Miguel.” The confession left your lips before you could stop yourself, angry tears beginning to run down your face.

“A-And, he pretends he’s such a great father, going around speaking of me—of my hobbies, interests, and so much more that is all bullshit. He doesn’t know and doesn’t care to know.” You cried, trying to wipe your cheeks clean of the tears, but they continued to fall despite your efforts. “My father only cares about himself, more than anything else.” You said in a brittle voice.

“The world can end tomorrow and he’ll still be trying to get over on everyone, and count every dime he has to make sure his pockets are hefty before his time ends.” You sniffled, shaking your head in irritation, the fury in your voice escaping into sorrow. “And…I’m just done. I can’t- I can’t do this anymore.” You admitted with a trembling sigh.

“I can’t be around him anymore, live with his lies, under his rules, and like I cannot exist in his presence.” You told Miguel as after your venting, you looked up at him to find his usual stoic features staring back at you. His tanned face devoid of emotion as he simply stood over you, listening like he always did.

You bit your lip, feeling a little embarrassed after saying so many deep things to Miguel—things you’ve never actually told him in-depth, but could simply be noticed as your father didn’t hold anything back from the rich Latino. “I’m sorry, I-I’ll just go.” You said, trying to walk around him when his hand was placed onto the tree behind you, blocking you under him. “No.” He said with the shake of his head, his coffee-brown curls swaying with the movement.

You gasped, eyes snapping up to meet him in confusion when his large hand cupped your rose-tinted cheek, his thumb delicately swiping away a stray tear. “I hated the way he speaks to you; I’ve always did.” He uttered, disdain found in his deep tone. “I’ve offered you many times in the past, Querida, to let me handle it— let me handle your father, and you turn me down each and every time.” He sighed, his amber orbs staring down at you in a blend of rage for the situation you were in, but also in sympathy.

A frown graced your lips, remembering what he spoke of. “Yes…I-I did, because it’s my burden to take on—my problem to deal with, not yours.” You tried to explain. “And if you intervene, it’ll surely ruin things with your shared business with my father.”

“To hell with it.” He spat, his hand moving from your cheek to grasp your hips possessively. “We've tried it your way for years and nothing has changed.” He retorted in anger. “Your father continues to treat you like muck on his shoe while I have to sit and watch.” Miguel said, his eyes narrowed in irritation, his jaw clenched, but his anger settled upon seeing your tears start to flow once more. 

“Listen to me, Cariño.” He began, staring into your eyes. “Your burdens are my burdens—your problems are my problems.” He said, determination etched on his tanned face. “I will not sit around any longer and allow your father to treat you like this, I can’t, and I won’t.” He blatantly told you.

Your heart fluttered at his words, despite not agreeing with Miguel's logic. Looking over his stern features, you could see that there was no way you could stop him—when his mind and heart were set on something, he sought to see it through. You averted your gaze away from the Latino, torn on the newfound decision he’d made. 

A quietness settled between the two of you, the gentle breeze of the wind, tunes and laughter from the distant party filling the silence.

Miguel's thick eyebrows furrowed, not expecting your reaction to be this. He rubbed your hip soothingly, trying to meet your gaze once more. “May you do something for me, Querida…? Y/N?” He said, your name being uttered by him was rare, using it only during serious talks, just like this one.

Without looking at him, you nodded, feeling his burly arm around your waist and soon his breath fanning against your ear. “I want you to forget about your troubles and give your worries to me to bear.” He uttered, caressing your lower back in gentle, loving circles.

“And in return, allow me to make things better for you, mi amor.” 

His words made your stomach flip as your head snapped to meet his gaze. Since you’ve arrived back home, a new side of Miguel has been introduced to you—one that you had never seen.

Before, he was always cold and stern, mostly only affectionate through a slight caress of the cheek, stroke of the hair, or even through a kiss that usually was controlled and led by him. 

He’d never actually spoken sentiments in this way to you, and it made you utterly speechless.

“M-Miggy, I-” You tried to reply but your brain had become mush. Miguel gave you a tight-lipped smile, shushing you with a shake of his head once more. “Come…” He simply whispered, taking your wrist and turning to leave when you hastily stopped him. “Wait, wait, we can’t just leave together. I-It’ll lead to suspicion,” you told the Latino. Despite your hate for your father and the status your family held, you didn’t want to anger him, nor damage his most cherished reputation, believing you’ll surely bring a monster out of your father if you did so.

Miguel looked back at you with tenderness in his eyes. “What did I tell you, hmm?” He asked with a smirk, his gaze instantly mesmerizing you and leaving you unable to speak once more. “Let me take care of things with your father and the rich assholes out there,” he assured in his gruff voice that usually held a rough edge, now gone and replaced with a loving tone that made you melt.

The Latino leaned in close to you, his arm pulling you to his body by your waist. Miguel gazed down at you, his rich, woodsy cologne filling your senses and the feeling of his pecs against your body made a rush of desire burn up inside of you, replacing the fire of hate you previously felt for your father. “Let me make things better for you, amor,” he told you once more, but this time, the adoration for you was evident in his voice.

Your heart skipped a beat, noticing just how close the two of you were—lips just a hair's breadth away. “O-Okay,” you finally mustered, unable to prevent yourself from pulling him into a searing kiss. Miguel groaned in surprise, his hand gripping your waist tightly while his other clawed into your hair, drawing you closer to him.

Gasps of air escaped you, incapable of stopping as with every kiss, it cured the need that you both craved of each other. Teeth clashed and tongues entwined, hands gripping clothes to try and close the nonexistent space between each of your bodies. You only parted when in the distance, a loud applause filled the air, one that startled you both.

Jumping in each other’s embrace, you shared a gaze over at the gathering to find your father in the center, continuing to entertain his guests, their attention solely on him.

You rolled your eyes at the anticipated sight, turning back to Miguel to see that he was already staring at you. His amber orbs burned with longing, and when he pulled you close once more, you could feel his evident bulge pressing into your thigh.

“I can't wait another minute, amor. I need you. Now,” he practically demanded in a hushed whisper into your ear, a kiss pressed upon your lobe following his desire. However, his words and arousal sparked a fire inside of you, matching his own longing.

With just a shared gaze, he knew your response without you having to utter a single word…

‘Let's get out of here.’

Your fingers combed through Miguel’s coffee brown curls, pulling him deeper into the intoxicating kiss you shared as his large hands roamed your bare skin. You moaned into his lips when his hand grasped your breasts, squeezing the sensitive flesh. His ministrations caused the peaked tips to harden as his fingers didn’t hesitate to flick and roll them. Miguel’s mouth continued to ravage yours, your moans becoming lost in your shared passion.

Your eyes fluttered, trying to recall past events on how the two of you ended up in the backseat of his black Lamborghini Urus, unclothed and practically devouring each other like two rabid animals; but the only thing that came to mind was the burning desire to feel him, touch him, taste him... 

Just like before...

“G-goodness, I missed you.” You whimpered between kisses, his lips trailing along your jaw as his massive body pressed you into the leather cushions, his heavy weight and body heat only arousing you further.

He breathlessly chuckled against your throat, pressing a final kiss to your skin before meeting your eyes. “As have I, mi amor,” he confessed, looking down at you with newfound love in his brown orbs. Your heart palpated at the sight as he leaned in to press another kiss to your lips. “Allow us to make up for lost time,” he whispered with a smirk. To your delight, he began to lower down your body, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake: on your collarbone, through the valley of your breasts, to your navel, and finally settling between your thighs.

He passionately kissed your sensitive, plush skin before lifting your legs up to drape over his broad shoulders, bringing himself face-to-face with what he truly desired. You gasped, your lower back arching and rising off the soft cushions of the truck's seat, thankful for the enormity of your father's best friend's vehicle, as it provided plenty of space for all the activities you wished to partake in.

Your breathing came out shaky from anticipation, the warm air from your lover's lips onto your moist core doing nothing to calm your excitement. “Are you going to make love to it or simply stare?” You asked, almost breathless despite not even reaching the peak of your intimacy yet.

Miguel laughed at your fervency, his massive body rumbling. He glanced down, his eyes meeting yours. “I'm just admiring what is mine, amor—what has been away from me for so long,” he huskily uttered, running his thumb delicately along your folds and pressing a tender kiss to your inner thigh, the sensation spreading through your body like wildfire.

“I... appreciate the admiration, but I don't think I can wait any longer,” you honestly told him with a small panting giggle. Reaching up to run your fingers through his brown curls, a deep hum of satisfaction escaped his throat at your touch.

"So eager for me, princesa. Always so eager," he groaned, pressing a kiss to your throbbing bud before flicking out his tongue to taste your arousal. The sensation eliciting a loud gasp from deep within your chest.

"Mierda, sabes tan bien… Tal y como lo recordaba," he rambled gruffly in Spanish, burying his face into your heat and wrapping his arms around your midsection to pull you closer. His desire to not part from between your thighs was evident in the growing tightness of his bulging biceps around you—his muscles gripping you in a vice like a starving man with his rations.

Your eyes rolled, the sensations so foreign yet familiar as his tongue seemed to be everywhere at once: circling your bud, thrusting into your entrance, and sucking at your soft folds. “O-Oh gosh!” you exclaimed, realizing just how much your body had been craving and missing his skillful intimacy, his age undoubtedly playing a role in his experience.

An unshakable burning sensation in the pit of your stomach began to brew, the position Miguel held you in leaving you only able to succumb to the pleasure he was bestowing upon you. Your hands tangled in his hair, not having anything else to grasp onto, while your back arched into his mouth, seeking more of his lips and tongue.

“Muy bien, babygirl. Hmm…let me taste you.” He groaned, his breath ragged with desire. His thumbs widened your pussy lips, your soft hood lifting to expose your bundle of nerves as he focused his ministrations on the pink pearl. Like his life was at stake, his tongue suckled and swirled on your throbbing bud in a frenzy until you were a trembling mess underneath him. 

“M-Miggy!” You cried out, convulsing and shaking in his arms. “I-I’m cumming!” You screamed out, feeling him smirk against your core. “That's my girl. Come for me, princesa,” he urged, his efforts intensifying as your sensitivity increased. With a cry of ecstasy, you released the coil of knots in your belly, feeling your thighs become drenched in your juices, eagerly slurped up by your lover.

Miguel adored when you were like this, a twitching, moaning puddle underneath him, knowing he was the sole cause of it. It always left him with a sense of pride. 

With his tongue, he traced a final circle around your folds and kissed your clit before lowering your legs back down upon the seats. He hummed in satisfaction at your flushed cheeks and heaving chest, finding the sight utterly beautiful.

“How’s my girl? Not too much, I hope?” he asked with a breathless chuckle, climbing up to brush a strand of your disheveled hair behind your ear and press a kiss to your temple. You sighed in contentment, his tenderness sending a wave of warmth through your being.

You shook your head at his inquiry, eyes slowly flicking up to meet his gaze above you. “No, I’m okay,” you replied, bringing a smile upon the normally scowling male’s face. “Muy bien. I’m not done with you just yet, baby girl,” he snickered, pressing his forehead against yours, his musk and cologne filling your senses. “I promised to make you feel better. I plan to stand by that,” he affirmed, gently pecking your lips. Your heart swelled, and your core throbbed back to life at his words. You returned his kiss eagerly, wrapping your arms around his muscular neck as his gold chain dangled from his throat.

When Miguel parted and gazed down at you, he saw nothing but devotion and love for him in your eyes—a sight that he’d never thought he’d see before. He nuzzled his face into your neck, relishing in your divine scent that he’d missed so much. Miguel’s hands caressed your bare waist, feeling the soft skin underneath his calloused, ringed fingers. His cock was painfully hard, the only thing soothing his need was the subtle grinding of his member against your thighs, and even still it wasn’t helping.

You bit your lip, feeling just how solid and needy he was, the knowledge only making you wetter. “M-Miggy…I need you,” you whimpered, wanting nothing more than to feel him after so long. Miguel grinned, finding your pleas to be music to his ears. He pressed a final kiss to your neck before parting, his hands grasping around your thighs to widen your legs for him.

A soft moan passed your lips at the contact of his tip brushing teasingly along your drenched folds, the erotic wet sounds echoing throughout the vehicle. “Are you ready for me, bebé?” Miguel practically groaned, his hand gripping your thigh, caressing gentle circles into your skin with his thumb. Biting your lip, you frantically nodded, unable to speak with how quickly your heart was beating and how filled with anticipation you were to be claimed by him again after your time apart.

Miguel growled at your response, guiding his length into your entrance as your joined moans filled the truck. You whined, feeling your walls stretch to accommodate his girthy length. “S-So big, Miggy,” you whimpered, burying your face into your arms. 

The Latino grunted, glancing up to see your concealed face. He took your arms in his hands, drawing, placing them to your sides to expose your facial features to his amber eyes. “I want to see you, amor,” he whispered. “I want to see my sweet girl’s face.” He murmured, leaning down to kiss your lips while waiting for you to adjust. 

Soft groans escaped him between kisses at each pulse of your walls around his length. Each peck of your lips was meant to be a cure for his burning desire to fuck your sweet pussy in total abandon after four years of being deprived of it; so he stuck to devouring your mouth whilst waiting for the magic words of your adjustment.

“I-I’m ready,” you told him between his intoxicating kisses, and Miguel promptly began to move. His thrusts started off slow and precise, each of his languid movements pulling a moan from deep within your chest. “S-So good…Miggy,” you were only able to muster, feeling every vein of his massive cock with his steady pace.

Miguel’s amber eyes were always trained on your face, constantly finding adoration for the pleasurable expressions that graced your beautiful features when the two of you were intimate. He leaned down over you, deepening his plunges as he gradually increased his speed until he snapped his hips into you in a frenzy.. “Yes, mierda, you feel so damn good…Fuck. Squeezing me just right,” he hoarsely said, his dark brown curls dampening against his forehead, and his grip on your hips tightening with each thrust.

Your eyes fluttered, hips moving to meet each of his movements. “M-Miggy…right there,” you begged, feeling your lover angle his hips to hit your desired spot repeatedly, causing your climax to hit you instantly. Your loud cry of pleasure erupted throughout the darken truck causing Miguel to smirk, pleased with bringing you to your orgasm so quickly; but not finished just yet. “Yes, princesa. There we go,” he muttered with pants. “But we’re not through yet, bebè. One more,” Miguel said. “Give me one more, babygirl.” He groaned, your stomach coiling again at his desire for you to release a second time as his thrusts resumed. .

The older Latino’s muscles flexed, his pecs and abs glistening with sweat and bulging with each brutal buck, his balls smacking into your ass. You could feel his pent-up frustration for your departure from him for the previous four years, every roll of his hips expressing his longing. “Fuck…I missed this pussy of yours, princesa,” he grunted. “Always so wet and tight for me,” he groaned between loud smacks of wet flesh.

Your chest heaved, legs trembling around his body as his shaft seemed to touch places inside of you that you didn't even know existed. Every plunge of his cock took your breath away, leaving only inaudible moans and slurred, unintelligible words to spill from your lips. Miguel cursed breathlessly, his eyes never leaving your face. He placed a hand above your head on the car seat, his thrusts deepening and making your eyes roll. 

Miguel could feel himself slipping; he was close—he was certain of that, but he wasn’t going to let himself go until you did for the second time. Leaning down, his mouth found your enticing peaked tits, his tongue swirling around your erect nipples. Your eyes screwed shut, back arching off of the cushions of the seat at the added pleasure coursing through your being. Miguel growled softly, sucking your breast into his mouth whilst his other hand dipped down between your legs, his thumb circling your throbbing clit.

With his ministrations, skilled tongue, and brutal pace, your body began to squirm underneath him, all of the sensations becoming too much to bear. A fire seemed to dance along your skin before your vision blurred, and soon another satisfying release washed over you. Miguel's lips pulled away from your breasts, the clenching of your walls bringing him to his climax. “Y/N- Ay cono, I’m cumming,” he said, plunging inside for the final time before a guttural groan erupted from his large chest. He hastily pulled out, his seed shooting from his tip to coat your bare stomach. You softly moaned, feeling his warm essence upon your abdomen, and soon his massive body atop yours once more.

A quiet silence fell upon the truck except for the panting of your joined breaths. You smiled softly down at him, finding his head upon your chest to be precious. “I take it that someone missed me,” you whispered playfully into the quietness once you caught your breath, repeating the same words he said upon the two of you seeing each other after four long years. He chuckled, rubbing your sides tenderly. “Must I admit it?” he asked, making you laugh. “Yes, it’ll make me very happy.”

“Fine,” Miguel stated, looking up to meet your eyes as amusement was gone from his features to become slightly serious. “When you were gone, I was a mess. I didn’t sleep, I drank a lot, and my work filled my days,” he confessed with a sigh, your heart sinking at his words. “Miggy…” you frowned, running your fingers through his hair to soothe him. Miguel melted at your caresses, eyes fluttering closed for a moment to relish in your touch. “I tried to forget you, but forgetting you only made the memories we shared even more prominent, making me want you further, crave you even, despite us being separated,” Miguel told you, while you listened. “So yes… I missed you so much, Y/N,” he smiled, leaning down to peck your lips. “And don’t leave me again, you understand?” he asked playfully, but you couldn’t help but feel that he meant it.

You cupped his face in your hand, stroking his cheek with your thumb. “I promise. I won’t be leaving ever again, but if I do… I’ll take you with me,” you giggled, bringing a small smile upon his lips. However, the topic made your father arise in your thoughts, as any reason for leaving would be because of him. 

Miguel noticed the saddened look that suddenly graced your features, causing his thick eyebrows to furrow. “What’s wrong, mi amor?” he asked, sitting up on the cushion of his truck’s seat, his hand gently rubbing your legs.

You sighed, biting your lip nervously. “My father… I can’t go back,” you admitted to not only Miguel but to yourself. The mere idea of returning to him, his suffocating rules, and lifestyle felt like a death sentence. The older Latino male gave you an emotionless look, his fingers tracing patterns along your calf, his mind seeming to be spinning.

“Then don’t…” 

Miguel's sudden proposal surprising you. "W-what?" you asked in disbelief, your shock making him chuckle. "Then don’t go back… live with me," he suggested. Skeptical, you eyed him, trying to determine if he was joking, but Miguel was always serious, so you knew he was being truthful. 

"But… I can’t just… stay with you, Miggy. It’ll draw suspicion—"

"Shh…" Miguel interrupted with a smirk, stroking your cheek softly with the back of his hand. "I won’t allow my girl to go back to a place where she isn’t comfortable," he explained. "So live with me,’ he stated once more. “I’ll provide for all your wants and needs, allow you to behave and speak however you like without any restrictions holding you down." Miguel's sincere voice was one you trusted more than anyone else's on this planet. 

"And… what if this angers my father?" you asked warily as Miguel chuckled. "You wouldn’t have to worry about that. You won’t have to see your father unless you wish to," he assured with a smirk. "And don’t concern yourself with me; the bastard cannot hurt me even if he tried," he added, reassuring you further. Your heart soared at his words. 

For the first time in your life, you were given a solution—an escape from your father and the enslaved life he’d placed you into. You pulled Miguel into a deep embrace, surprising him with the sudden affection, but he returned it nonetheless, wrapping his burly arms around you and pulling you close. 

Miguel caressed your bare lower back, relishing in your closeness as your next words made his entire body become rigid. 

“I love you, Miggy.” 

The endearing words escaped your lips, something he thought was as ethereal as your shared love for each other. Before he could ponder it, he found himself uttering the same words back—and wholeheartedly meaning it. 

“I love you too, Querida.”  

In that moment, you couldn’t fathom how happy you were about your freedom, but you were even more delighted that you could finally be happy with the man you loved. 

Certainly, there would be challenges and obstacles in the future, but you’ve never felt stronger and more confident to tackle them with Miguel O’Hara, your secret lover and father’s best friend, by your side. 

A/N: Thanks so much for reading!! I just want to say again that I'm very thankful for the patience that you, lovely people have given me for the past few weeks, months probably. 😅 So I'm very grateful. 😊

I have many story ideas, requests and the kink series, Entangled Desires to get to, I can only hope that I'm able to get more things out to you wonderful people in the next couple of days or so. There is a lot to get done as you can see lol! 😅

But once again, thank so much, and just want to give a shoutout to @serpentineaerodynamics. This girlie has been getting my brain flowing, since I've returned and she's gotten me pumped to get back into the groove of things. 💪🏽😁 So thank you bestie! Love ya! 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Make sure to like, comment, reblog, and follow! If you'd like to add a request to the kink series, Entangled Desire, or have an idea in general, just message me or submit an ask. I hope you all have a wonderful day and stay safe! ❤️❤️

<3 Taglist:

@oscarissac2099 @powerful-niya @szapizzapanda @mcmiracles @mreowmoreww @thedeva @jadeloverxd @lazyotakuofficial @migueloharacumslut @nattywatty @homewreckingwreck @kinkybandages @prazinos @huniedeux @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak @anniee-mr @crimin4llyins4ne @lynxslokley @rice-wife @oharasfilipinawife @migueloharastruelove @rodriash002 @e1f-boi @user3732094737 @truth-dare-spin-bottles @taleiak @alurafairy

**If you are part of the taglist and didn't receive a notification, please check your settings and ensure that the tag notification button is turned on.**

(*All rights reserved. DO NOT repost/translate/copy any of my work.*)

[starssworl]

" REMEMBER, THIS IS NOT JUST A STORY. THIS IS YOUR PRESENT. "

(school version. embrace your feelings and claim this reality as yours!)

The morning sun filters softly through your window as you wake up feeling refreshed, relaxed, and excited to start the day. You glance at yourself in the mirror and can’t help but smile. Your skin is glowing, and every feature on your face is effortlessly beautiful. Your long, straight black hair falls smoothly over your shoulders, looking so perfect that even you can’t resist running your fingers through it. As you prepare for the day, you notice how smooth and flawless your skin is, without a single unwanted hair in sight.

Slipping into your favorite outfit, you admire your hourglass shape in the mirror—your slim waist accentuating every curve, exactly as you’ve always dreamed. Every piece of clothing fits you perfectly, embodying your unique style and drawing admiring glances from everyone you meet. You feel confident, comfortable, and unstoppable.

In the kitchen, you enjoy a delicious, hearty breakfast, savoring each bite without a single worry about calories or gaining weight. You know your body is perfectly in tune with your desires, allowing you to eat as much as you want and still look amazing.

At school, you notice him—your boyfriend, who shares your classroom. He smiles at you, and you feel warmth in your chest as he comes over, the two of you laughing and talking as you walk into class together. You feel so connected, so seen, and genuinely loved.

Class begins, and when it’s time for math, you feel a quiet confidence wash over you. Each problem comes effortlessly, as if the answers are simply waiting to reveal themselves. Numbers flow through your mind with ease, and solving complex equations feels like second nature. Your classmates look at you in awe, and even your teacher seems impressed with your lightning-fast answers.

As the day comes to an end, you feel accomplished, loved, and radiant. You are living the life you’ve always dreamed of—a life where everything aligns with your deepest desires. You are beautiful, confident, successful, and cherished. This is your reality now, and you carry this feeling with you, knowing that it’s all within you, and it’s all true.

[rainba]

I love the idea of a reader that likes to play slasher movie with Luka. A reader that goes to a bar and picks up a guy and lures them to the woods to start off the slasher movie cliché. it ends with the guy slaughtered and Luka chasing the reader and claiming them, the reader is slung over Luka’s shoulder for a night of fun. Such a cute date idea 💜

Omg…. This is SUCH an amazing idea for an AU of sorts. I think your ask is mostly referring to them basically roleplaying, but I like the idea of it also being real. ^_^ For regular Luka, that would totally be a perfect date idea, though... (˘���˘).｡.:*♡

If you don’t mind, I shall elaborate on it.~ 🤍 ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

((For this version of Luka, I imagine he wears a muzzle.))

TWs: graphic violence, blood, NSFW

GN reader!!

🤍 Luka and his darling: a serial killer duo that the world will never forget. You: the lure. Him: the hunter.

The two of you prey upon a small town, living right around the outskirts within the forest. The entire place is surrounded by miles upon miles of trees: the perfect gravesite for your all’s countless victims.

You both work together so perfectly; your crimes are nearly flawless. There’s a rumor that goes around claiming anyone who talks to you will eventually go missing, but nobody is able to say for sure... In all honesty, this doesn’t scare anyone away– in fact, it draws people closer to you. They’re so curious to see if the rumor is true.

Luka has you both wearing matching outfits: black leather jackets with angel wings messily painted on the back.

The entire situation is so, so exhilarating. It never gets boring.

You lure your victim away from the bar and out into the woods with the promise of money or sex. It works every time. Nobody can resist you.

The two of you go deeper and deeper into the forest under the guise of playing a fun little game of tag or hide and seek. You smile and laugh as you spur the other person on, encouraging them to come catch you.

But far in the distance, Luka is watching closely, biding his time.

Sometimes Luka switches things up. On some days, he’ll use a knife. On others, he’ll use a scythe. But his main weapon of choice is oddly a chainsaw.

He loves the way his victims freeze up in horror when they hear the saw go off. Luka is silent and precise, but the chainsaw is loud and reckless. Putting them together is the perfect storm.

There’s never been a time where Luka hasn’t captured his prey. Luka is always so much faster– and he knows the forest like the back of his hand. In many ways, it’s his territory, his morbid little playground.

Luka never likes to end the chase quickly– he prefers to draw it out. He always gives his victims a head start. It makes things so much more interesting.

When he’s ready to hunt, Luka makes his presence known, then counts down from ten. 

He sneaks around through the trees and hides within the bushes, always keeping his distance. But he never lets his victims stray too far.

Luka likes to analyze his prey’s behavioral patterns before deciding how he wants to catch them.

Every time he captures someone, it’s always an absolute massacre. Blood pools in the green grass below, dyeing it a dark red. Blood splatters all over the nearby rocks and trees, staining them permanently. He tears into his victims to the point where they’re unrecognizable. 

And when he’s done, he flips his victims onto their stomachs and carves a pair of angel wings into their backs.

After he’s done carving, he’ll whistle a specific tune, and that’s when you know that it’s your turn to run. And just like how he does it with his victims, he gives you a head start.

But since he loves you, he gives you twenty seconds instead of ten.~

When he’s nearby, he’ll rev up his chainsaw as a warning, giving you a little bit of time to run further away from him. He loves the way you keep on trying, despite knowing that it’s inevitable he’ll catch you.

After he reaches you and tackles you from behind, he’ll toss the chainsaw aside and pin you down to the ground, already hard and ready to ravage you.

He aggressively pulls your pants down to your ankles and spreads your legs apart, lifting your ass high up in the air. He then rips your underwear off and tosses aside the scraps– he does this every time without fail. And without saying anything more, he buries his cock deep inside of you and bottoms out.

The blood of your all’s victim mixes with sweat as he fucks you ruthlessly, smirking deviously as he whispers praises in your ear.

The muzzle over his mouth drives him insane– all he wants to do is leave marks on your skin and kiss you on the lips. He’d do anything to stick his tongue in your mouth and dig his fangs into you.

In many ways, the sex is a way to celebrate a job well done. Another person on a long list of victims… The two of you are bound together by the sick and twisted nature of your crimes.

If one of you falls, the other falls too. Every victory is shared. Life was so, so boring before the two of you met each other… And now, Luka can’t stand the idea of a life without you.

His little tease, the perfect bait for his hunts, his partner in crime. He cums deep inside of you as he darkly moans your name, holding you in place the entire time. He loves the way you convulse around his length as you both come down from your highs.

Since you did such a good job, he’ll make sure you get to cum two or three times, just because he loves you so much.

And when everything is done, Luka will lovingly lift you up from off the ground and sling you over his shoulder, giving your ass a little smack too. He smirks if it makes you squeal.

Then the two of you go further into the woods, back to the little cabin that the two of you share. 🤍

[videostarblogs]

4. hime gyaru

hime gyaru, also know as princess gal, is a subculture of the broader gyaru fashion movement from Japan. it blends hyper femininity, elegance, and opulence, drawing inspiration from princesses and rococo fashion. here is a detailed breakdown of hime gyaru.

origins and development

hime gyaru emerged as a subculture of the gyaru fashion movement in the early 2000s. gyaru, which means gal is Japanese, is a youth fashion subculture that emphasizes glamour, beauty, and rebellion against traditiona; Japanese beauty standards.influences by european rococo and Marie Antoinette aesthetics, hime gyaru combines elements of japanese kawaii culture with an extravagant and princess like style. brands like Jesus diamante and Liz Lisa were instrumental in popularizing the look.

key motifs

elegant and opulent clothing: hime gyaru putifts often feature dresses and skirts with luxurious fabrics, laces, ribbons, and frills. silhouettes are typically aline or fit and flare to enhance a feminine, princess like appearance.

pastel and soft colors: the color palette includes pastel pinks, white, creams, and other soft, delicate hues that add to the fairy tale charm of the style.

statement hair and accessories: big, voluminous hair is a signature of hiem gyaru. hairsty;es often includes large curls, bouffants, and elaborate updos, sometimes adorn with tiaras, bows, and floral headpieces.

luxurious details: pearls, rhinestones, and other sparkling embellishments are common in hime gyaru fashion, both in clothing and accessories. shoes after featured high heels with bows or other decorative elements

doll like makeup: makeup is characterized by flawless, porcelain skin, dramatic false eyelashes, and gradient or glossy lips, the overall look aims to create a doll like, elegant appearances.

music

hime gyaru fashion doesn't have a very specfic music genre associated with it, but j-pop artis and idols who embrace a cute elegant style, such as kyary pamyu pamyu and AI otsuka, often resonate with the aesthetic.

here are a few other music artists I suggest personally!!!!!!

Kyary Pamyu Pamyu

Momoiro Clover Z

Faky

Babymetal

Guso Drop

Sakura Fujiwara

Necronomidol

Mary’s Blood

Lovebites

Broken By The Scream

movies

films and media that feature princesses or luxurious, elegant settings align well with hime gyaru. movies like Marie Antoinette directed by Sofia Coppola and Disney princess films provide visual inspiration for the opulent and regal aspects of the style.

here are some other movies to watch as well!!!!!!!!!!!

Kamikaze Girls (2004)

Paradise Kiss (2011)

Boys Over Flowers (2005)

Hanayome wa Yakudoshi (2013)

Sailor Fuku to Shichinin no Kobanashi (2012)

Honto ni Atta Kowai Hanashi (2007)

Himitsu no Hanazono (2012)

Koibito ni Hanataba wo (2011)

Love Exposure (2008

books and other medias

manga and anime: shojo manja and anime that feature beautiful, elegant characters and romantic storylines often appeal to hime gyaru athusiasts. titles like nana ny AI yazawa and cardcaptor Sakura by clamp showcase characters with a sense of style that resonates with hime gyaru

magazines: japanese fashion magazines like ageha and egg often feature hime gyaru style, providing readers with the latest trends, makeup tutorials and hairstyle ideas.

social media: platforms like Instagram, youtube, and TikTok are vital for hime gyaru fashionistas to share their outfits, makeup routines, and diy projects. influencers and fashion icons within the community play a significant role in popularizing and evolving the style.

moodboard

outfit inspo

overall, hime gyaru is a glamorous and elegant fashion subculture that celebrates femininity, opulence and a fairytale princess aesthetic. it combines luxurious clothing, dramatic hairstyles, and doll like makeup to create a look that is both extravagant and charming.

make sure to like, reblog if you'd want, and follow my blog for more fashion breakdowns and inspo

videostar signing off.................

[nirvanawrites111]

Wedding Secrets (Sub!Taemin x Dom!Reader)

Pairing: Sub!Taemin x Dom!Reader

Pronouns: none used, written as an afab! reader. Reader does wear a dress.

Genre: Exes to lovers, non-idol au, Taemin is a famous cherographer and you two see each other at Hoshi's wedding.

Warning: smut of course, pussy eating, dom!reader, femdom, cheating, pulling Taem's hair, and grabbing his shirt. Y/n is called mommy

Word count: 1789.. it was supposed to be only 1000 words.

BTW, this is NOT the story I teased a week ago. I'm still working on my Yandere!Taemin fic.

I'm just so in love with Taemin y'all.. but y'all already knew that.

Happy Subby!September! Thank you to everyone who is reading, writing, and reblogging. We are just getting started!

Smut below the cut! Enjoy.

The wedding reception was vibrant and full of energy. But, your heart drops when you spot him from across the room.

Your ex.

At Hoshi's wedding, of all places? You both shared a mutual surprised look, and suddenly, the upbeat song seemed a bit too loud.

Memories of old times flashed by as you caught his eye. This was going to be an interesting evening for you.

Not to mention, the woman by his side is drop-dead gorgeous, and you're sure she's a model or some influencer.

Being a choreographer, you know he makes his rounds around the entertainment industry.

You get up from the table and head to the bathroom. The last thing you want is to show any emotions and make this about you. This is about celebrating your good friend, and you don't want to draw any attention to you.

You retreat to the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. Your makeup is still perfect, your hair is flawless, and you look amazing in your outfit. You take a couple of deep breaths.

"I don't have feelings for him anymore.. so why am I tripping?"

"You don't have feelings for me.. anymore.. mommy?" Taemin voices announces into the bathroom, and you glare at him as you stare at him in the mirror.

While you thought hearing that name would feel foreign to you, instead, you miss it. A little more than you would like to admit.

You can't even hide your facial expressions, so you turn around to face him. You wrap your arms around your body, holding yourself in hopes that you can keep it together.

"No, we're over... remember?" Your echo of the truth is a reminder that he doesn't belong to you anymore.

He wanted to end things because he felt like monogamy wasn't something he wanted to continue. So, he walked away from you.

"I know that, but you haven't answered the question. Because if I'm being real with you. I'm not over you. Every person I sleep with, I have to close my eyes and imagine that it's you that I'm with."

Of course, the most infamous choreographer and dancer in your home country has been with other people since the split. That was the whole purpose, right? But it still doesn't feel good hearing it.

But, simultaneously, you feel a little emotion stir inside you, because he still isn't over you.

"Does my answer even matter?" You challenge him.

Taemin tilts his head, and studies your body language. His piercing dark brown eyes, and you know that right now, he's the bold, confident, loudmouth Taemin. In a snap of a finger, if you step into "mommy mode," he will be a whimpering mess under your control. He can get into his subspace so easily for you.

"For me, it does," he responds softly.

A surge of memories hits you – the late-night rehearsals, the impromptu dance sessions at dawn. The way you two would hook up at his dance studio. The passion between the two of you is undeniable. But you know, along with those fun memories comes the bitter ones, the fights, and the jealousy.

"Why now?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady. "After all this time, after everything that happened, why bring this up now?"

You watch him take a deep breath, looking down momentarily, before returning his mesmerizing gaze to yours.

"It's simple. Everywhere I go, all I see and imagine is you. You used to choke me the way I liked, spank me, spoil me, love me, touch me. Make me submit like no one else could. I'm still in love with you, Y/n."

You want to speak, and you open your mouth to do so, but you stop yourself. You take a moment to process what he just told you.

Your relationship with him was such a whirlwind. He's never been your typical type of guy you like to date. You are quiet and reserved around people you don't know. Only a selected person gets to see your true personality shine.

But, Taemin is outspoken, flirty, and outgoing all the time. He's always the center of attention in some type of way. You never wanted to dim his light or stop his beautiful energy. But, at times, his innocence gets misinterpreted by someone dying for his attention.

Which created issues in your relationship. He has five million Instagram followers, which is more than some of the idols he choreographs for.

He's pretty much a big deal to a lot of people. But, no one has ever experienced him in the way that you have.

"Kiss me," you mumble.

You get out of your head and try to ground yourself back into your body. You know you will ruminate over this if you don't let your body take the lead.

Taemin steps closer into your presence and presses his soft, juicy lips against yours. Your eyes shut immediately, and you allow him to take the lead momentarily. He deepens the kiss and wraps his hands around your waist, and you pull him closer to your body.

You pull back from him, and you feel that familiar feeling come over you. That surge of energy allows you to take control of the situation.

"Mommy? Can I taste you?" The words slip off his tongue so quickly, and you wanted nothing more than to shove his face right into your pussy.

How did he know that you even wanted him in that way?

You removed Taemin's suit jacket and laid it on the sink, and you hiked up your dress so that you can prepare his meal for him.

How could you deny yourself the satisfaction of having the best head in your life? Even if it meant this was just a one-time hookup.

You spread your legs for Taemin, and you are already wet with excitement.

"Come on and eat it before your girlfriend comes looking for you," you taunt him.

"She doesn't care. She's just with me for her social media page."

You run your finger down your slit and feel how wet you are just from kissing Taemin. It never fails how you always react to him so easy.

Taemin smirks and kneels before you just enough to be at eye level at your core. He places his hands on your thighs for leverage as he jams his tongue inside you.

You instantly realize how much you have missed his tongue deep inside you. The feeling of his tongue warms you in a way that you can't explain. It's familiar, and it feels even better as he begins to lap at your folds.

"God, I've missed your tongue, Taem. You're still the best head I've ever had that."

You expect Taemin to respond to your comment, but he's lost himself inside of your sacred world. He mixes up his technique from sucking on your clit to giving you very slow, but passionate kisses that cause your body to jilt every time.  To do it all over again in between speeds and variations.

The feeling of having Taemin eat you out like it's his last meal on Earth has your mind spinning a bit when he services you like this. You know that his words are really true.

There is no way that he eats out that IG model like this.

Taemin is way too good and knows exactly what you need when you need it.

He's so good at reading your body language since he's an empath. He knows what you want before you even say it. That's how in sync you two are.

But, you snap out of the state of euphoria, and you grab him by the hair. "Taem, now I know you heard me when I praised you... Is that how you respond to Mommy?"

"No, mommy. I'm sorry, you just taste so good. That's why  I was in my own little world with your pussy. Thank you for praising me. You know I love when you do that. Can I continue to worship you?"

You instantly felt the aching of your sex when you pulled him away from you. You want to regret it, but you also know he must obey you.

"Fine, but you know I like it when you respond to me. Got it."

"Yes."

You stare into his eyes with his hair still in your hand and his beautiful plump lips covered in your juices.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes... Mommy."

"Good boy."

You release his hair and guide the back of his head back to your pussy. Not that you needed to guide him, but you like being able to control him in this way.

Taemin returns to pleasuring you like he never stops. He licks away at your pussy, and the gushy sound of his tongue and your juices mixed has you hornier than ever.

"Mommy.. I love pleasuring you."

"I can tell. You see how wet I am."

"I love it.. can I feel your juices on my fingers?"

"Yes.."

Taemin turns his hand over and sticks his thick middle finger inside you, and you clench around him. He runs his thumb over your clit in circles.

You look down at him, and you can't get over the fact that you never expected to be on a bathroom sink with your legs spread with Taemin's head in between them during your bestie's wedding.

As if on cue, Taemin runs his tongue across his top lip slowly to savor your taste.

You grab him by the shirt and pull him in for a kiss. You slip your tongue into his mouth and savor the taste of yourself. These are the wild moments you miss.

Your tongue swirls around in his mouth as you two are locked in a passionate kiss. The combination of kissing him and his fingers working their magic on you is enough to tip you over the edge.

Taemin's skillful digits continue to pump into you, and you already feel yourself squirt on his middle finger.

"Finish me off," You pull away from Taemin and push his head back down.

Taemin holds onto you as he buries his face deep into your center, and he tongue fucks you because he knows that's what you like.

You both know your body is already so sensitive, and by the way, your hips are starting to buck you. The time to release is approaching.

You moan uncontrollably as Taemin's expert tongue explores every inch of your core, intensifying the pleasure coursing through your body. The anticipation builds, and with one final flick of his tongue, you explode in a mind-shattering climax.

Taemin comes back up and licks his lips again. "I will never get enough of how you taste, Mommy."

You hop off the sink and adjust your dress. Your legs are wobbly, and Taemin helps you with your dress.

You kiss Taemin on the cheek and say, "I might let you taste me again."

[itzjaza]

OML PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO TRAD GOTH GF AND TAZ (LOML)AJHFBFBFHDJDJDJDHD I NEEEEEED TAZ😍😍😍😍😍

P.s I literally love you bro 😭

Makeup Routine, Taz S.

Taz loved to watch his girlfriend Y/N get ready. She was a traditional goth, with a passion for dark makeup and all things dark, mysterious, and spooky. One day, Taz found Y/N getting ready for a night out, sitting on the floor with her makeup spread out in front of her. He eagerly sat next to her, handing her her brushes and makeup items, excited to see her transformation. "Babe, can you hand me that black eyeliner?" she asked, reaching for the eyeliner with her long, black-painted nails. Taz eagerly obliged, holding out the liner for her to take. "Thanks, doll." She said with a smile, leaning forward to draw the liner along the edges of her eyes, her hair falling to one side of her face. Taz watched in awe, amazed at her artistry. As Y/N continued her makeup routine, Taz couldn't help but admire her beautiful, pale skin and dark, expressive eyes. She was so beautiful to him, and he felt lucky to be able to sit next to her and see her true beauty. As Y/N finished her makeup, she stood up, revealing her stunningly beautiful and unique goth look. Her hair was styled into a simple yet pretty bun, and her makeup was flawless, featuring a black smoky eye and black lipstick. Her outfit consisted of a simple black tank top, a short skirt, fishnet tights, and some accessories. Taz was blown away by her beauty and style, and he couldn't wait to spend another night with his gorgeous, trad goth queen.

[neoninky]

TWST Shenanigans: League of Antagonists (and some actual Villains)

I'm back with another long winded, stupid thought that I may draw some day but in the mean time, here's this lol (also spoilers for my Sacred Crown fics if you haven't read them?? Just FYI)

Scene: Antagonists from canon TWST side events all hang out in a bar and talk about how they fucked with the main characters for reasons unknown

Ashton Vargas: *reminiscing about the Camp Vargas event(s)* HA HA Man you should have seen their faces! We gave those punks a good ol' fashion trauma haunt in the woods. Classic. Divus Crewel: And we looked damn good doing it too. *Camp Vargas Part 1 and 2 Crewel definitely made those costumes* Vargas: Sigh...of course we got a temporary dock in pay to help provide the whimpier ones with therapy sessions but eh totally worth it. Random group of fairies all sharing a bar stool: *makes a bunch of tinkly noises talking about the Fairy Gala* Translation: That's cool but we almost ruined the entire school's ecosystem because we gave into our baser instincts and stole the mage stone cuz it was shiny... damn those kids for crashing our party with their incredibly well made outfits and near flawless sashays (Crewel: I would be more upset if not for the fact I finally got Kingscholar to have proper posture for at least 14 hours.)

Ghost Princess Eliza: *still boohooing over the Ghost Marriage event though technically she is happily married in the end* I just wanted to marry my perfect prince after years and years and YEARS of waiting!! What's a little first-degree murder in the name of true love?! (Fairies: damn gurl / Crewel: that's a mood.) And those horrible boys just kept coming to ruin my wedding! Accosting me with their unprincely behavior! What kind of man doesn't have a legendary sword or a faithful dog that comes at his beck and call?! (Vargas: she does make a good point...) Oh well, in the end, I did find my real prince so it all worked out. We'll be returning for the baby shower they promised to host! (Crewel: the school and every person on campus has at least three restraining orders against you...) - jaunty music suddenly starts playing out of nowhere and the entire room groans - Fellow Honest: *cane twirls his way on screen, ready to spill the deets on the Playful Land event* Trauma, theft, delusionally murderous courtship? That's cute. I suckered a whole group of those dumbasses into a human trafficking con disguised as a theme park! And I did it so well that I basically hijacked 90% of all social media for MONTHS while doing it! Everyone: *disgruntedly* we KNOW Fellow Honest: *much smug* Did I mention how I also cursed the whole place to turn them into wooden puppets if they broke the backward ass rule system I put in place as well? (Vargas: dude what the actual hell?) Sigh...and it would have all gone off without a hitch if it weren't for those damn kids fucking up the entire park (Crewel: our students are pretty much all assholes, yes.) ...I mean sure, in the end, I did tell my shitty boss to suck it and encourage those brats to do exactly that. But then they dared to extend a hand of friendship and understanding to ME?! Entitled, fancy boys with their fancy schmancy education *grumble grumble* Vargas + Crewel: *side-eye glance at each other at the mention of a shitty boss* ..... *both take long sips of their drinks*

Rollo: *appears with sudden intense mood change in the atmosphere* Hmph. I understand your contempt for those frivolous magic users completely... (Fellow: THANK you!) ...I invited a select few of them onto my campus under the pretense of uniting our schools in harmony and camaraderie. In actuality...I wanted to destroy them by taking away their magic and then wiping magic off the very face of the planet. Fellow Honest: ...ok well damn that's a bit harsh- *the group of fairies moves as far away from Rollo as possible*

Rollo: and I would have gotten away with it too. Had it not been for that Malleus Draconia *name said with such distain Rollo might as well be a friggin Batman villain* ...on the other hand, I did completely get away with it. Cuz they tried to guilt trip me by letting everyone believe I was this upstanding person who isn't capable of heinous acts. (Fellow: HA stupid) ...that is until karma bit me in the ass and then my childhood magical dragon friend that I don't absolutely abhor ended up bonding with the magical dragon that I hate with every fiber of my being... *talking about my OC in Her Devoted Throne hitting it off with Malleus lol* Crewel: To be fair, if watching your BFF get with your sworn enemy after you tried to commit mass genocide of magic is the worst thing to happen, you are one lucky bastard.

Rollo: Oh I'm barely as horrible as they are... *scene pans over to another group seated in the Really Fucked Up OC Villain section*

Queen Alva from Her Ivory Crown: I not only gaslighted and emotionally abused my own daughter into working herself to the bone to prove herself as the heir to my throne, I then threatened her and tried to take everything she fought for away from her the minute she had a meltdown and wouldn't marry the boy I picked out for her. Not to mention potentially damning my own Queendom by trying to deprive them of a far better queen than I in the future....now I'm divorced, shunned from society, and living alone in the countryside, forced to do my own housework *has to fetch her own fainting couch so she can dramatically swoon* Zehn Cavaliar, the 'boy' in question: ...yeah I wouldn't take no for an answer so hard that I harassed the crown princess into an Overblot state which could have killed her. I also attacked and injured her while she was in that condition. Her new boyfriend got all his friends to kick my ass before and after I lost everything.... *has the expression of someone going through a Vietname flashback* Don Muraeni from Her Lost Voice: *sitting in a large fish bowl on the counter as a shriveled up sea polyp* I literally paid and sometimes forced several women to bear my children - who I let abuse and murder each other all in hopes of earning my approval btw. I even killed a guy who owed me money and then took his wife and child, made said wife have another one of my kids - who I also abused and forced to do underhanded tasks through the majority of her childhood. I also tried to use my son to get at my sworn enemy after not shedding a single fucking tear after his brother was brutally murdered by said enemy...*stops to think* More child abuse. Collecting siren mermaids and forcing them to be sex workers. Trapping my wife for several years while letting her children believe she was dead....so yeah all that backfired horribly and now I'm trapped as this weird lil slug thing until I die. Or something. Ghost of Don Muraeni's right-hand guy, Proteus: I was a total creep who abused his power and was brutally murdered for it in the end. Also I stole magic from a defenseless, traumatized child. Everyone else: *staring at all of them in horror* .....JESUS CHRIST

Dark Fire is hot but Hell is hotter *sips tea*

Also tagging people for reasons @iscarlettappel @foxwitchaine @wysteriadelights @nuitthegoddess @victoria1676 @1ndigowitch

[empressofmankind]

Everyone needs hobbies, even crocodiles

And, in my unending wisdom, I've decided, (aside from Bananawani care and rearing) for no ulterior reasons at all (I promise, I am normal about this), that Crocodile's ought to be dancing.

Hear me out -

It's a very classy hobby? It (can) be very showy. And, particularly partnered-style dances (traditionally) lean on the man's lead, and many show off the partner. The fashion, is also usually flawless. And he has the figure for them tights. Ugh, them legs. Also, the tiddies.

With the whole Mafia-thematics, I lean to 20-30's (like quickstep!) but also Latin styles across the board. For, I suppose, obvious reasons.

He has the energy, stamina and strength to pull these speeds and moves off (and carry a partner's handicap if necessary) and I think it'll be very impressive because of his size. A guy that big should not be legally allowed to move that fast or that smoothly or that quietly.

But it's a BIG MOOD.

And I am weak.

So, I am having it.

Also, those legs of his? Going to shine in this.

His size is also a hitch, particularly his length and strength, but we got tall, sturdy girls who can reach a shoulder and take an impact tug - for example, Shivs is 1.92m, add some nice heels and it'll work out.

Lemme show you what I mean, so you have the proper visuals whenever you catch me the coming days whining about Croc and Shivs wiping everyone off of the dance floor, stealing their thunder.

Riccardo and Yulia are multi-times world champions, and I just. Ugh. The energy. The moves. The outfits. I could watch this on repeat forever.

I love how showy this routine is, with its quick steps and unapologetically sexual moves?? Croc and Shivs would rock this! And they'd both look great in these outfits? He wants to show off so badly how sweet and supple 'the Vice' is under that layer of iron she's got?? Poor man is unwell, but don't say it to his face.

I will probably draw them at some point, because of those outfits.

I swear, this is how people in Alabasta realise they're bisexual.

Accomplice tags to @tiredemomama & @fanaticsnail

[recareels]

I love the idea of daddy Sunday pampering you, choosing your clothes for you, only the best for his baby, and helping you get dressed while you are to sleepy, to follow him around to his social events, perched on his arm like a good girl. It makes me giddy!!

ooooh yes yes yes!!! i completely agree hehe <3 because the thing about sunday is that he absolutely would pamper the everliving heck outta you. as a(n ethical/philosophical) hedonist, sunday believes in, loves, and cherishes the finer things in life—all of life’s little pleasures, materialistic or otherwise. a dominant caregiver role is so perfect for him, since having complete control over you and being in a position to take care of you—to manage your happiness, to make sure you are in the absolute best conditions and positions that you possibly can be—alleviates a ton of his anxiety and makes him feel validated and valuable.

he loves being able to dress you up like his own personal doll every morning, and it’s even better when you’re giggling and telling him that the outfit he has curated for the day is so pretty, Daddy and you love it so much, Daddy and it makes you feel like a princess, Daddy! <3 see? he’s murmuring to you as he smooths silk down your body, palms tender and careful, as if he’s dealing with the most precious porcelain. Daddy always knows best.

and it’s true; Daddy does always know best. Daddy consciously takes into account both yours and his personal preferences when it comes to your clothing and accessories, ensuring that you are both always happy with the outcome. Daddy is perfect at composing beautiful outfits that only add to the piece of art you already are, accentuating your natural features. and this is excellent, because you are his favourite accessory—the one thing he never leaves the house without, the one thing he absolutely needs on his person at all times, both hands tucked snuggly in the crook of his bent elbow, pressed to his ribs or overlayed with his free hand, his fingers curling over your own.

you are an instant, natural, pure anti-anxiety, your mere presence grounding him, your touch tethering him to your peace, keeping his heart calm and his head clear, bathed in your everlasting light and love. your soul, irrevocably intertwined with his own, empowers and uplifts him, and he draws strength and stability from it. he always matches his outfits to your own, so the two of you look like a flawless pair, a pristine set, incomplete without the other. it’s a subtle claim of ownership, a nonverbal message to anyone who lays eyes upon you—you are his, he is yours, together you create one whole.

[raven-trait]

Farah Alade for @boobpancakes' Monster Mash-Up

Race: jackal girl

Age: teen

Sexuality: straight

Renaissance Sim: self-absorbed | perfectionist

"What do I think about Farah? I think she is a self-centered bitch who thinks only of herself" "If I know Farah? No, I don't know her but every time I see her in the school corridors my day gets better, I mean you've seen her haven't you? She looks like a goddess and we are simply living in her world" anonymous students

Some people love Farah while some can't stand her. Yes, it is true, she is a bit self-centered but she is not a bad person. Farah is the middle child of a large family and her parents have always reserved most of their attention for their older and younger children, leading Farah to think that she was not enough for them. This fact led her to seek validation from her friends and classmates, in fact we can say that Farah deep down is an insecure person and the only thing that reassures her is compliments from others.

High school therefore represents for her the only place where she can often be the center of attention, and for her this is vital since at home she is eclipsed by all her siblings. In high school she has few real friends, and don't mistake the gaggle of opportunistic girls hanging around her for real friends: they only stand by her because they know that standing by her means being invited to the best parties and having the attention of the nicest boys in school. However, this also benefits Farah in that she secures constant compliments and flattery in this way.

Farah always tries to give her best in everything she does, she is a perfectionist and is not satisfied until she knows she has done everything perfectly.

Fun facts:

-The necklace she is wearing is a gift from her grandmother to whom she was very attached.

-Farah loves gold and gemstones

-She has a passion for ancient history

-Despite her self-centeredness, Farah has an undeniable charismatic personality that draws people towards her. Many find her captivating and enjoy her company, even if she can be a bit self-absorbed.

-She spends an excessive amount of time perfecting her appearance, from her flawless makeup to her fashionable outfits.

[superb-icarus]

"Your BIG Purchase is on the Way!" - Part Two

Read part one here! this was requested :) and I'm sorry it took so long! I tried to brainstorm with very Remus-y proposal ideas-- something nice and intimate. constructive criticism is always welcome! -- It had been four long months, almost five, since that fateful day when I accidentally stumbled upon Remus' email, revealing the secret of my engagement ring. In the beginning, I was relentless in my quest to extract more information from him, desperate for details about the proposal and the ring itself. However, Remus, ever the master of secrecy, remained tight-lipped. He reveled in my frustration, his mischievous smile and twinkling eyes the only response to my persistent inquiries.

As time went on, my incessant pestering began to wane. The initial surge of excitement faded and with Remus's subtle encouragement (or lack thereof), I slowly learned to be patient. The first month was a relentless barrage of questions, but as the weeks passed, my curiosity subsided. Remus, clever as ever, had been working overtime to keep me from suspecting anything. He sent me on regular trips to get my nails done, generously paid for my hair appointments, and even offered to buy me new clothes and shoes. Every other week, he treated me to a delightful date, all in an effort to divert my attention from the imminent proposal. I couldn't complain though; these gestures of love and distraction were quite enjoyable.

Despite all this, the ring remained elusive. I knew he had it, hidden away somewhere, but how much longer would he make me wait? Almost five months had passed, and there were no signs of progress. Our friends, naturally, were all in on the secret. I had confided in my closest friends, Lily, Marlene, and Dorcus, while Remus had shared the news with his own circle. We couldn't help but discuss it at social gatherings, fueling my anticipation even further. Lily, Marlene, and Dorcus had even attempted to extract information from Remus, both in my presence and without, but he managed to resist their charms. Sirius, James, and Peter, on the other hand, took pleasure in teasing Remus whenever they could, making me wonder what they might know.

So, when Remus casually suggested a date to the botanical gardens on the following Saturday, I didn't think much of it. After all, we were almost five months into this waiting game, and there had been no indication that the engagement was imminent. The thought of visiting the gardens with their vibrant blooms was delightful, but I cautiously reminded myself not to get my hopes up too high.

As the week progressed, I followed my usual routine of being sent to the salon for nail and hair appointments. I diligently followed my skincare regimen to maintain a flawless complexion, desperately hoping that the occasion was drawing near. I carefully selected my outfit for the day, settling on a knee-length vanilla dress that exuded the freshness of spring. "I'm just wearing spring colors," I reassured myself, attempting to temper my expectations.

On the day of our outing, I found Remus waiting for me in the kitchen, dressed in a light blue polo shirt and chinos that accentuated his understated charm. My heart fluttered as he looked at me with admiration and love.

"You look absolutely stunning, darling," he complimented me, causing a blush to creep onto my cheeks.

"Thank you," I replied, unable to hide my own smile. "You're not so bad yourself." We made our way to Remus' car, ready to embark on our adventure to the botanical gardens.

The weather was perfect, the sun gently caressing the landscape with its warm rays. The gentle breeze carried the scent of blooming flowers, filling the air with an intoxicating fragrance. As we strolled through the gardens hand in hand, I couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation building within me. The botanical gardens were indeed a sight to behold, with their meticulously manicured landscapes and a kaleidoscope of vibrant colors. It was as if nature itself had conspired to create the perfect backdrop for an unforgettable moment.

We wandered through winding paths, surrounded by a tapestry of blossoms and lush greenery. Remus seemed unusually serene, his usual reserved demeanor radiating a quiet confidence. The sunlight danced on his face, highlighting the slight smile that played at the corners of his lips. My heart skipped a beat, wondering if this serene atmosphere was a prelude to something extraordinary.

As we reached a secluded corner of the gardens, a picturesque gazebo emerged, adorned with delicate climbing vines. It was like a hidden oasis, offering privacy amidst the beauty of nature. Remus gently led me toward it, his hand warm and reassuring in mine. The air was charged with anticipation, and a thrilling sense of unknown filled my every breath.

As we approached, Remus paused, a soft smile gracing his lips. He reached behind him, revealing a beautifully arranged bouquet of flowers adorned with baby's breath. Their vibrant hues complemented the natural splendor of the surroundings, a kaleidoscope of colors blending seamlessly. The scent of the blossoms filled the air, intoxicating and sweet.

"Before we take this next step together," Remus began, his voice filled with tenderness, "I want to present you with this bouquet, a symbol of the love and beauty that surrounds us as well as my promise to you. Red roses for romance and passion. Pink peonies for beauty and elegance. Violets for faith and affection. Hydrangeas for togetherness and unity. And gardenias for hope and clarity." He extended the bouquet towards me, his eyes shining with adoration.

"Thank you, Remus," I whispered, my voice filled with love and appreciation. "They are so beautiful..." I trailed off, amazed. Within. the shelter of the gazebo's lattice walls, we stood face to face, surrounded by the beauty of nature's creation. Remus took a deep breath, his eyes fixed upon me as if etching every detail into his memory.

"These past months have been a testament to our love and patience," he began, his voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and determination. "Every day, I have marveled at your strength and the depth of our connection. And now, here, in this place of breathtaking beauty, I want to make a promise to you."

Tears welled up in my eyes as Remus pulled out a small velvet box and dropped to his knee, revealing the gleaming amethyst ring, finally making its first appearance since learning about it. Its radiant beauty sparkled, whether by the sunlight or my tears, I could not tell.

"Will you, my beloved, embark on this journey of forever with me?" Remus asked, his voice filled with hope and unwavering love.

Overwhelmed with emotion, I nodded, and spoke, my voice barely a whisper. "Yes, Remus," I cleared my throat. "Yes, a thousand times yes!"

With trembling hands, he slipped the ring onto my finger, a perfect fit. He stood up and immediately brought his hands to my face and kissed me. The only sounds I could hear were the soft rustling of leaves and the pounding of my heart.

[rosetheocto]

My Rants and Reviews on the Failtopia S2 Finale Outfits!

this post was inspired by the one made by @cosmo-production so please check out their post too! my review is under the cut

Major Failtopia Season 2 spoilers ahead!

Mar

yeah it’s the basic one, but i think that fits him! If I had to pick another outfit it would be the Pro one, but I genuinely can’t see him in anything else other than the boring chef outfit. I feel like if he wanted to change it he def could (I mean look at his imp outfit) but the basic chef outfit is very solid for him! If it ain’t broke don’t fix it! 7/10

Orion

I know the outfit is very clashing and has a bunch of colors, but in Dan’s defense: Orion’s makeup already has a bunch of colors, and when you look into it the colors the outfit has actually matches with the makeup a bit! and also, I kinda wish Dan didn’t have the makeup be as out there for the sake of those drawing fanart, but at the same time this is Daniel Failboat. Insane designs are expected. That being said though, I can’t change the clothes or makeup even if you forced me to. the context for it is just so freakin cute!! we all love great fathers in this household. He makes me wish I had a meaningful relationship with my dad. 6/10

Friend

I like it! I have a few minor gripes though. This may be a bit of a hot take, but I don’t like Zone (the hat) or Ship (the staff). Not in the Finale at least. I think Friend should’ve removed them both to show that they’ve moved on and don’t need something like Lee anymore. Symbolism and character arcs and all that other fancy stuff idk. Also I like that she looks more like a priest than a Cleric, it makes sense! He’s really religious in-universe and their war cry is literally “die, sinner :)”, so I don’t have any problems with that! As much as I like her in purple, he looks oddly good in a black and white outfit too! 8/10

Shrimp

listen guys I’m sorry but her outfit kinda sucks.. the bright pink hearts don’t really give off the same vibes as her first outfit did.. I get where Dan was coming from with it but I just personally don’t like the design :((

I think that he should’ve went with the emo goth outfit for her instead, especially since it fit her more and the fandom latched onto it like a moth to a light, but that’s just me. it gets a free half point for matching up with Bill though, 3.5/10

Erica

look I love it but the actual armor part is so overdesigned. I hate drawing that thing. that’s my only problem though the rest of her outfit is cool as hell!! Let’s go lesbians. 8/10

(and this doesn’t really count for anything, but don’t like her weapon, again I get the idea Dan, but she realistically would NOT use the giant arm 😭)

Chi

This kind of outfit fits her so well omfg. The stupid bowtie? The short sleeves and general lack of lab safety?? The triangle patterns??? It all just screams “Chi” to me! Thank you Miitopia for creating this outfit. Flawless. 10/10

(also another weapon mention, her using the ketchup bottle in the finale?? as someone who is obsessed with S1 of this series, Daniel, ty sm for including that.)

C!Failboat

the catsuit is very boring, but it is also very iconic. I like it. I’d give it a solid 7/10. But I don’t wanna talk about that one. I wanna talk about his outfit when using the Power of the Scythe.

oh my lord. this outfit. this is not me dunking on Daniel or Wafferscotch at all, I genuinely love their art and content!! but like. you’re telling me this man saved the universe in tracksuit sweatpants and an open button up shirt WITH HIS OWN MERCH ON??? He killed god in the Bee Movie shoes?? The Piss Adidas??? It just. doesn’t really fit the Miitopia vibes to me, and I think this could’ve been better as an outfit for ACNH. It could’ve looked much worse, but still. I think it’s a 3/10

Bo

perfect. love the callback to Rose (and I mean, they’re very similar characters, so it makes sense!) She also looks cool af in a suit. her new look can be strange at first but you 100% get used to it with time. And her multiclass was just chefs kiss. Absolute goddess, let’s go lesbians. 10/10

Chat

very good. very iconic. so glad this series came out before the Kirby Era cuz i think the lips would’ve ruined it. 10/10

Big Bill

It looks really comfortable!! I want this robe irl, I like the patterns! I surprisingly really like the pink for Bill! It stands out compared the rest of his appearance and I think that’s really cool!! the dark blue also fits him really well!! Half point bonus for matching with Shrimp. 9.5/10

Void

GOD TIER!! PEAK DESIGN!!! We all love Void in this household. 20/10