#shut up yves

[saintly-yves]

one thing i find sweet is that i seem to be apollo-coded from the day i was born. i was born on a sunday (im also a july baby), and at a time that was when the sun was at it's peak -- and then later in life i grew obsessed with herbology and homesteading and especially divination.

greek mythology didn't come to me until much later, but i like to think that it was only a matter of time before i started worshipping apollo, lol, especially considering the obsessions i had with lyres and harps (and to be honest, that obsession is still there)

i grew up writing poems and songs about the sun and napping in the sun and just lying outside in the sun; could that have been he himself reaching out to me? guess we'll never know (at least until i ask)

anyways, what ive been trying to say this whole time, is apollo i love you <3

↑ one of my favorite paintings of him

[swordmaid]

my wyves (wyll/yves)!!!!!!! sobs

[yes-too-yves]

_______

certified yves bonnefoy fan blog!

Meet the Mods (the three S's)!

Mod Sophia - the most criminally not funny, can speak whatever i put my mind to (just not French) stop editing my posts SRIYA [ :( ]

Mod Sindhu - not funny, can speak french (?)

Mod Sriya the bonnefoy-ed genius - not funny, cannot speak french nor English tbh (Don't touch my Bonnefoy-ed genius Sophia or Ill start crossing things out on yours too)

[usurpator]

Man I’m

[kazbrkker]

the modern struggle is to have absurdly high standards for a romantic relationship but never find someone who you think is worthy of your love, all while having to admire your friends ageing beautifully with their found partners and assuring yourself that it’s not that bad being alone

[blackestar]

i just had a thought, yk how in tsc jean at first only referred to neil as nathaniel (even tho he knew neil goes by neil) and at some point it switched to neil. what if in tsc2 or 3 he starts to go by jean-yves again and gets comfortable with that name again and the narration also switches to jean-yves? what then??

still thinking about how 14-year old Jean showed up to the nest day one like bonjour, je suis Jean-Yves and then not a single person called him by his name until Neil’s british crime boss uncle lmao

[isoobie]

[splashface]

i come on here and reblog 92737382 things then leave like i did nothing

[kill4luvina]

✧ Never Again ✧

"I got a feeling one of these days You'll be the reason I stay Way you whine, girl, you make me insane"

PossisiveBf!TojixBlack!Reader 

CW - Modern, Overly Possisive Toji, OOC, Toji Smoking, Unprotected Sex, Public Sex, Breeding Kink, Creampie. Probbably more but I’m lazy and not proofread. (I havent posted in so long give me a break.)

Summary: You and your boyfriend of 3 years go out on a date to celebrate when you run into a old friend who obviously can’t read the room. In a hurry to finish the short reunion your boyfriend leaves angrily waiting for you outside the car to ready to take his frustration out on you. 

“Tojii, this place is so wonderfu!” You’d gasp holding onto his arm in awe, as you both entered the dimly lit restaurant. Your eyes glued to the white plaster sculpture of a winged figure riding a horse above you two. Your boyfriend woud smile knowing you loved sculptures and this would be the perfect place to spend you 3rd anniversary.

After being seated , about 30 minutes later you were caught off guard by a figure behind you. You quickly turn to see a bright smile. Gojo, one of your old friends from High school who seemed to have not aged a day over 20. Though you knew he was around 25, you smile back greeting him with a wave. “How are you?” He asked. 

You glanced over to your boyfriend who looked unbothered before bringing your full attention back to Gojo. “Oh I’m doing wonderful, You?” You smiled happy to see him, the last time you two spoke waas at the end of after a trip with your high school friend group. You two soon lost track of time talking for almost 15 minutes! 

You notice Gojo give a strange look before looking around in confusion. You turn to see Toji’s gone, your heart dropping. “I-” you couldnt form words wondering how long he had been gone for, if he left you or what. You struggle to make a sentence before gojo smiles a nods. “Go on, it’s my fault i interrupted.” 

You’d smile, “It was nice seeing you!” you’d say quickly getting up and speed walking to the entrance of the restaurant. Your silver glittery heels slightly slowing you down, which made you quickly take them off as soon as you got outside panicking as you jogged to where he had parked. “Toji?!” You’d call out startled when you didnt see his car for a moment.

“Right here mamas.” He’d answer from a little farther down making you sigh quickly, seeing the smoke from his blund rising into the dark night. You’d slowly walk to the direction of his voice until you saw him standing against his blacked out Lamborghini Aventador. “Toji, I’m sorry I got so caught up in the conversation..” You’d say looking at the ground.

He’d huff ignoring your apology just hitting the blunt, his eyes not even moving in your direction. He’d stand there silently listening to pleas, as you kept apolging, tears filling your eyes as you started to sniffle. Your voice cracking as you came closer to him pulling on his suit begging him to even look at you. 

“Y/n.”  Your heart would completely sink, he only ever called you by your name when you really fucked up. You’d look up at him, and he was now looking down at you. His eyes cold and low as he blew some smoke into your face. The Earthy scent mixed with his La Nuit De L'homme Yves Saint Laurent colonne making you weak. 

“Y-yes?” You’d answer, eyes watering even more scared at what he might say this time. “Mamas, what’d I’d tell you about guys talking to you?” He’d tilt his head, his eyes softening up as he noticed your tears starting to roll down your face. “N-not to pay them any mind, and I’m sorry he was an old friend!” You’d try to explain only to be shut up with a kiss. 

“I’ll let you get away with this one because it’s our anniversary. But you owe me one thing..”

You don’t know what possessed you to let this happen but you found yourself getting fucked agasint this mans car. Lamborghini to be specific, out in a public parking lot. 

“T-Tojii-” You’d whine feeling him drill in and out of your squelching pussy, tightening around him as you heard footsteps nearing. “Shh, they’re gonna hear..” He’d chuckle knowing they were going to see anyway. “F-fuckk. too deep-!” you’d cry as you felt him bury himself as deep as possible. His smirk grew as he watched a couple gasp seeing this. 

You’d let out a loud moan feeling him slap your ass, your dress pulled up to your waist and laced panties in his right hand. “Your being too loud..” He’d whissper in your ear still fucking your now creamy pussy. “How about..” Failing to fight back you found your panties now shoved in your mouth to shut you up, your eyes tearing up in embarrassment as you saw another man walk past. 

Unfortunately for you, it was someone you knew. The person who started all of this, you felt your tears start to pour as you couldn’t stop moaning from the pleasure but the embarrassment was too much. “Y/n?” He’d titled his head to the side in shock, feeling himself get hard before quickly walking off trying to pretend he never saw.

“Toji!” You’d scream muffled by the fabric in your mouth, you quickly spit it out turning back to look at him. He’d without hesitation push your head against the car window, “who’s a good slut?’ He’d ask fucking you even faster as you felt yourself reaching the edge. Your eyes rolling back as he brought one of your legs up to fuck you deeper. 

“Omg! Fuckkk!” You’d cry cumming all over his dick, feeling him thrust into you a few more times before letting his load out in you. “Look at you, a little cum dump.” He’d snicker as he pulled out, giving your ass a little slap before picking your heels & purse from the floor. You’d feel yourself get picked up and gently placed in the car. 

“Never do that shit again.” He’d say coldly before givng you a kiss on your forehead and coming around the to the drivers seat. You’d sit there silently just rethinking your life as you felt yourself drip  your boyfriends cum onto his expensive seats.

Little did the both of know of a few cars down sat gojo in his own car, windows rolled down half way, cum all over his stomach & chest. Breathing heavily with the feeling of embarrassment overwhelming him. He had sat there listening to you, just to get off to his fist? He didn’t feel okay after that one yet he loved every moment of it while it was happening.  

yall should i make a part 2 with gojo telling u to leave ur bf :)

"Bad man looking good in Dior Bad man drip to the core Sport car's parked on the right spot Bad man sleek and you know"

[liz-on-leash]

any plans for yves? would love to read her gangraped in order to be a soloist after loona disbandment

I'm taking a break from writing Mommy Chorong because it will be a long one, lol, and decided to do another short smut with this one. It's more like a braindead smut so don't expect much logic in it.

T/W: gang-rape

LOONA has just announced their unexpected disbandment, shocking the entire industry and leaving their fans devastated. Little do they know, one of their beloved members, Yves, is about to endure an even more shocking and horrific fate.

Yves, now freed from the constraints of the group, longs to continue her career as a soloist. However, the cut-throat industry has other plans for her. With connections and influence, a group of rich, powerful men sees an opportunity to exploit the young starlet's talent and body for their perverse desires.

On a warm summer night, Yves finds herself lured to a lavish mansion under the pretense of a business opportunity. As she steps inside, the door locks behind her, and she realizes too late that this is no ordinary audition. The men, tall and imposing, surround her, their eyes dark with lust and power.

"Welcome, Yves," a deep voice rumbles. "We've been waiting for you. Your talent is extraordinary, and we want to give you the opportunity of a lifetime."

Before she can respond, strong hands grab her, ripping her clothes off, leaving her naked and helpless. She struggles, but they are too strong, manhandling her petite frame with ease.

"Please, stop! Let me go!" Yves screams, her voice echoing off the marble walls.

A sharp slap lands across her face, stinging her cheek. "Shut up, bitch! This is your new destiny. You'll do as we say, or you'll regret it."

She cries out in pain and tries to cover her modesty, but they grab her wrists, forcing her arms above her head. One man—a businessman with cold, dead eyes—steps forward, his breath hot on her neck. He squeezes her throat, applying just enough pressure to make her gasp for air.

"You will learn to enjoy this, slut. Your body is ours now." He releases her throat and tears at her nipples, twisting and pulling them. "Such pretty tits. They will look even better covered in cum."

Yves sobs, her body trembling as the men take turns, slapping her breasts, squeezing them hard, and pinching her nipples until she screams. They laugh, enjoying her pain and the power they hold over her.

"Stop... I'm sorry, please... D-Don't hurt me..." she begs between sobs.

Ignoring her pleas, they push her to her knees, and a thick cock is pushed into her mouth. The taste of salt and pre-cum fills her mouth as she's forced to deepthroat the length of it. Her eyes water, and she gags, but they hold her head in place, forcing her to take every inch.

"Suck it, whore! Show us what a good cock sucker you are." The man fucks her mouth deep, his balls slapping against her chin.

Tears stream down Yves' face as she chokes on his cock, feeling it throbbing and twitching in her mouth as cum goes down her throat. The men laugh and cheer, placing bets on how long she can last before she passes out.

Then, they drag her upright and bend her over a table, her ass in the air, offering her holes to them. Without warning, a cock plunges into her pussy, stretching her roughly. She screams, her voice hoarse from crying and gagging.

"Oh, she's tight! But we'll fix that, won't we?" The man behind her grunts as he thrusts roughly, slamming into her with all his might.

Another man steps forward, his cock hard and ready. He slaps her ass cheek hard, leaving a red handprint, then lines up and pushes into her ass, taking her anally without preparation or lube.

"AHH! PLEASE, NO! IT HURTS!" Yves screams, her body shaking as two cocks fill her, stretching her to her limits and beyond.

They pay no mind to her cries, spanking her bruised ass cheeks and pulling her hair as they establish a brutal rhythm, using her body for their pleasure. Her cries echo through the mansion, mixing with the wet sounds of their thrusts and their grunts of satisfaction.

"You like being our fuck doll, don't you? Taking it in both holes like the slut you are." One of the men punches her back, leaving a bruise, as he pounds into her relentlessly.

Yves sobs uncontrollably, her body shaking with the force of their thrusts. The pain is overwhelming, but it only seems to fuel their desire. They fuck her harder, faster, their balls slapping against her sensitive skin.

"I'm going to cum in your tight pussy, you stupid bitch!" The man fucking her pussy states, his cock swelling as he empties his load deep inside her.

As he pulls out, another takes his place, continuing the continuous assault on her holes. They show no mercy, using her body for their pleasure, marking her as their territory.

"Look at all these cocks, Yves. You're such a desperate cock slut. I know you are enjoying this? Does it feel good?" One of the men slaps her face, leaving a stinging sensation.

Yves is beyond words, beyond dignity. She nods, her eyes closed, tears streaming down her ruined face as she endures the exhausting gangrape. She feels full, stretched to her limits, her body bruised and sore.

The men show no signs of stopping, taking turns with her holes, face-fucking her, and handling her body however they please. They treat her like a mere object, a vessel for their lust, and a toy to be played with.

Hours pass, and Yves' cries have turned to whimpers as her sweaty aching body is ravaged over and over. The men are full of vigor, and their cocks show no signs of softening. They spit on her, degrade her, and mark her as their shared cum dumpster.

Finally, as the last man cums deep in her womb, they release her. Yves collapses on the floor, her body covered in cum, bruises, and handprints. She lies there, sobbing, her body trembling from the aftermath.

"Remember, Yves, this is just the beginning. You're ours now. If you want your shot at becoming a soloist, you'll keep coming back for more." The men laugh, leaving her there, broken and violated, as they walk away, their appetites satisfied, for now.

[aettuddae]

business matter - chapter 113.

↳ synopsis: two of the most important kpop companies covet a partnership with a huge global brand, only to be surprised when the deal is extended to both labels. fearing potential sabotage and cynical strategies to secure exclusivity for just one of them, both CEOs resort to desperate measures. in a bid to maintain trust and prevent betrayal before the signing, they come up with a pact: forcing a fake relationship between the leaders of their star girlgroups. if one side attempted to fail the other, they threaten to expose it all to the conservative south korea.

masterlist | prev | next

[written chapter]

"i can't believe we have to come to greet the devil." complained yves as she followed the aespa staff who were leading them backstage along with some other people who had attended the concert.

"we're not going to greet her, we're going to greet yizhuo." serim corrected.

"see how i said 'the devil' and you understood who i meant?" she observed.

"you mumbled that the whole concert, every time she appeared on the screen." she frowned. "the girl next to us thought you were asthmatic."

"but then she was surprised when she realized it was me and asked me for a picture." the shorter one dramatically moved her hair back giving it a flick.

"and then she asked you if you were asthmatic." she repeated, causing sooyoung to roll her eyes.

they entered the artists' area where there was a wall lined with promotional posters of the group's tour, set up as a photo-taking area with the guests. the members who had just finished the show were standing in front of it talking and waiting for their friends, colleagues and family members, turning around excited once they arrived.

well, most of them were excited, "the devil," on her part, looked like she had seen, redundantly, the devil himself enter the room.

it had been a month since she had last seen jang serim, at the door of her apartment saying goodbye to her. she found it curious how with her busy life time always seemed to fly, but that particular month had seemed to go on forever. and now that it was over, august had brought her back, though she knew serim wasn't coming for her.

there weren't many people, which was normal since the concert in seoul had two dates so the guests were split between them. trying to deal with the shock of breathing the same air as jang, she began to move by inertia towards the crowd, ending up in the arms of her family. from her father's hold she watched as the oldest walked right past without paying any attention to her, as if she were invisible. her eyes followed the woman until she could no longer turn her head and when she wanted to turn her eyes towards her relatives she bumped into yves, who had indeed stopped next to her with the mere intention of giving her a look full of contempt, only to continue on her way once she had successfully communicated her feelings with her face.

the girl reunited with serim who was enveloped in a hug by ningning. karina realized she had no business looking at them and turned her attention back to her parents and sister.

"that was a good concert." serim broke away from the maknae, keeping her hands on her shoulders as she spoke to her. "i enjoyed it very much."

"really? thanks for coming." yizhuo squeezed her cheeks slightly. "how about you? what did you think?" she turned to sooyoung.

"it was amazing." she assured. "you have great songs, hit after hit." she began to wave her hands excitedly through the air accompanying her words. "if you are ever missing a member i would be happy to fill their spot." she proposed. "personally, i think you girls need to kick out that karina girl." she opined wryly. "there's no need two rappers, really, and she's got some dark vibes." she shook her head.

"can you shut up?" serim tapped her on the shoulder.

"we'll take you into consideration." ningning nodded with an awkward smile. "what was your favorite song?"

they engaged in a short chat between the three of them about the concert and occasional banal things, until the heaven members went over to greet winter and giselle once they were available, and ningning went on to thank her other acquaintances for attending. serim wasn't close to the other two aespa members, she barely knew them, yet she knew that out of politeness she should go over and talk to them. but there were not enough good manners in her body to force her to assume that karina was a real human in that room and that she was also part of the group that had just given the concert she had watched, she avoided her as if she were an evil spirit, as if acknowledging her presence was illegal.

the group arranged themselves in front of the wall to have their pictures taken, posing with their acquaintances who passed by one after another. when it was yves and serim's turn, they were guided to stand in the middle, but because of how the group was positioned, that way karina was right next to jang, who upon realizing this gave a long sigh and moved, walking to the left end and standing to the side, causing yves to do the same, leaving them both at either edge. the photos were taken in an awkward atmosphere, jimin didn't even bother to smile for these.

once they lowered the camera and the next group of people approached the members, serim again said goodbye to ningning, then walked away with yves ready to leave the establishment, all this under the watchful eye of karina who wasn't listening as she was asked to properly settle in with the guests.

"ask her, question." she mumbled distractedly, without even looking back, with that weird habit she had picked on those past weeks of shortening her sentences, and ran off after serim.

the members of heaven had already passed the door leading to the room, they were in a corridor behind the stage heading for the exit of the building, but stopped abruptly at the shouts naming the older one. when they both turned to see what was going on they met karina who was shaken from running, she stopped behind them trying to catch her breath.

serim rolled her eyes, yves jumped on top of the dancer ready to rip her hair out.

"hold still." her bandmate pushed her back again.

"no one breaks my semmie unnie's heart and gets away with it." she took another leap with intentions of reaching karina, but once again her leader blocked her with her arm, causing her to end up climbing over her shoulder and part of her back, swiping at the air above serim to see if she could grab something.

"behave!" she exclaimed, setting her down. "why do you always behave like animals wherever we go?" she folded her arms in annoyance.

"because we learned from you!" she finished off.

"touché." she nodded, changing her attitude. "what do you want?" she turned her gaze on karina.

"i have something to ask you." she explained, playing with her fingers nervously.

"you can't." yves interrupted.

"go away." her leader scolded her, pointing away indicating for her to walk away.

"but semmie-"

"i'll be fine, get out." she reiterated.

"alright." she took a few steps away, but turned on these quickly addressing karina. "but i hope you're aware i know where you live." she threatened her, then resumed the way she was going before, but turned back to the girl. "and if you do one of yours i'll have to involve yujin." she warned intimidatingly. "and yujin is demented." she finished, now really leaving the leaders alone.

"are there any members of your group who don't have behavioral problems?" questioned karina in confusion.

"look who's talking." she raised her arms in the air in disbelief then looked at a fake audience as if asking them if they could believe what she had just said. "what do you want, karina?" she put her hands on either side of her waist impatiently.

"karina? no more jimin?" she spoke softly, she felt embarrassed.

"yves has been calling you the devil all night, would you rather i call you like that too?"

"yes, i heard her." she shifted her body weight from one foot to the other restlessly. "i actually think she wanted me to listen to her." she guessed. "but please don't call me that." she asked shyly.

"what were you going to ask me?" the vocalist resumed.

"well..." she contemplated for a second what she was going to say. "did you like my solo?" she inquired, an innocent smile forming on her face.

"is that it?" her face lost emotion, skeptical.

"hey, i wrote that song for you." she confessed cheerfully, trying to dispel the tension in the air.

"it's a song about lesbian sex." she recalled in frustration.

"you didn't like it?" the sad aura enveloped her once again. "do you think it's a bad song?" she clasped her hands together again, rubbing them against each other wanting to calm the anxiety.

"no, it's a good song, don't worry." she assured, dropping her head wearily from the situation she was in. "if that was all, i'm leaving." she turned around.

"namu!" yu stopped her.

"don't call me that." she stated facing her again.

"serim, sorry." she amended. "that's not what i wanted to ask you." reported, remaining silent, serim tossing her a gesture with her head prompting her to continue. "i wanted to ask you..." she swallowed. "i broke franky."

"that's not a question."

"hiro broke franky." she reformed.

"what did i do to that dog to make him hate me so much?" she grimaced in dismay.

"i don't know, but he doesn't like you." she admitted. "i gathered up the soil and the plant, put it back in the pot." she commented. "but i wanted to ask you how can i know..." she tried to choose her words well. "if it's still alive."

"why didn't you google it?" she said with obviousness.

"i guess you're more reliable than the internet." karina shrugged.

"okay." serim agreed. "you got to check that the leaves are firm and green, if they are turning brown or are soft and wrinkled it's either not getting water properly or the roots are rotten, which would mean you repotted it wrong." she advised earnestly. "in this case, you're going to have to move it to a new pot." she approached her so she could explain more comfortably. "if you end up having to do so, you will completely remove the old soil from the roots, if any of these are damaged, you will have to cut them, carefully!" she suddenly exclaimed, she takes this hobby seriously. "carefully, jimin." insisted.

"you called me jimin." the addressed one pointed proudly, cutting her off.

"shut up." the oldest ordered without giving her comment any importance. "if the roots are too wet you should leave it in the open air to dry out, okay? at least for two days." she continued. "then you're going to plant it again in new soil." she helped her. "try to get soil specifically for succulents, you can go to a nursery garden and ask for it." finished.

"so, the leaves... the roots... i have to be careful when cutting them..." she began to list using her fingers. "basically if it's dying i should..."

"start all over again, yes." she completed the sentence for her.

"i understand." she confirmed. "thank you, serim." she expressed honestly.

"no problem." the girl dismissed. "thanks for the pet, by the way." she added with a faint smile. "goodbye." having finished the conversation she assumed she could leave.

"wait!" the youngest one followed her as the other intended to catch up with yves to leave the place, standing in front of her as she stopped to hear her.

"what now?" she cocked her head helplessly.

karina took a big breath of air, she knew she was already draining serim's patience who seemed to just keep waiting there hoping she had some doubt serious enough to not let her anger explode on the day of her concert. she held out her hand, her eyes, with clear insecurity in them, following every little movement there was in the woman's facial features. she placed her open palm in front of serim, expectant.

"hello." she blurted out simply in a low, hesitant tone.

"what are you doing, karina?" serim analyzed her judgingly.

"take it." she suggested.

serim wrapped her hand with her own in a squeeze, holding them between their bodies, to see what the younger girl had on her mind.

"hello." she said again. "my name is yu jimin." she introduced herself. "i saw you inside and i think you're really cute." she smiled self-consciously.

"what are you trying to do right now?" serim let go of the grip they had to rub her face despondently.

"if it's dying, i have to start over to save it." she recapped.

serim understood what was going on, what karina's intentions were and where all this interaction they were having was coming from. the reality was that yes, serim loved her desperately, but she was worn out, she couldn't keep orbiting around jimin, she had realized the night she didn't reciprocate her feelings. what the girl's reasoning was didn't matter because it didn't erase all the wrong she had done before. she hadn't tried for them, so what was the use of starting now.

karina's hand was still in the air hoping for her, so she held it out again. "hello." she fixed her gaze on those pupils. "i am jang serim." she shared. "and please don't bother me anymore." she sentenced.

serim left, now without anyone stopping her as jimin was left stupefied on the spot, alone with her hand outstretched with no one to take it. she hadn't planned that, she hadn't previously thought about the possible consequences of her actions, she just did it, but didn't expect the woman to reject her like that. though she understood, of course, she understood, and she knew she deserved it.

serim walked down the hallway and turned a corner where yves was waiting for her, disappearing from the younger woman's range of vision.

"how did it go?" her companion asked when she saw her coming.

serim threw herself against a wall, her forehead sticking to it and then began to slide down on it as if she was melting. "i love her." he communicated.

"what?" yves looked at her quizzically. "what happened?"

"she's the stupidest woman alive," she knelt on the floor, arm open, torso and face still pressed against the wall, her gaze lost in the distance dramatically. "and i love her." she affirmed.

[saintly-yves]

rare prince stolas posting ☆

this is probably UPG because i dont interact much with other demonolaters </3

one of the funniest things about him is that he genuinely does not like sweet things.

ill give him chamomile tea and he's pretty specific with how much sugar is supposed to be added

also, once i gave him some strawberries bc i love them and he told me to pour some water over them, let them sit for a while, and then made me take the strawberries out 😭

he did enjoy some not very sweet apples that i gave him later on

[swordmaid]

recently discovered that origin karlach has a unique animation with wyll in the epilogue where he blows a kiss to her and she catches it then does a little dance after??????? I’m on my KNEES yves never stood a CHANCE

[suddencolds]

of painkillers and lenience

...hello! 😭 I wrote this way back in April; it's been sitting in my drafts ever since. Chronologically, it takes place shortly following Atypical Occurrence.

I wasn't sure if I was ever going to post this. I suppose it's more a character study than a proper romantic installment :') but it's an exchange I'd been wanting to write for a long time.

you can find everything I've written in this universe here!

—

Summary: Yves comes down with something. His best friend wonders where Vincent is, in all of this.

—

Perhaps it’s merciful that it’s on a Sunday that Yves wakes up with the slightest tickle in his throat.

Yves has an idea what it means. He’s had the flu enough times in his life to know that it comes on quickly. Maybe if he attempts to sleep it off, he’ll have a better time over the next few days.

Or maybe not. He cancels his Sunday plans, goes through his itinerary. There’s a slew of emails he’ll have to send off, a handful of meetings he’ll probably have to reschedule for this coming work week. He’ll need groceries, too, to last him the week—ideally something that won’t take too much effort to make. Resting now seems like it’d be a waste of time. Best to get everything over with before the illness has a chance to properly settle, he thinks. 

He really does mean to stop by the grocery store. It’s perhaps just the timing that doesn’t work out as planned. Between figuring out how to reschedule everything that’s coming up with work—figuring out who he can ask if he needs to reallocate any of his assignments to anyone else, rearranging things for clients, and getting all the paperwork in order—all of it takes him nearly two hours. He wanders into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea, finds himself having to turn aside to cough, notes the unpleasant sting in his throat when he turns back around. 

It’s not terrible yet, but he feels distinctly off. His head feels a little heavy, and everything he does feels strangely—sluggish, maybe. Like he can’t quite manage to be as efficient as usual. Judging by past experience, he’s probably going to crash in a few hours.

He can already feel a headache brewing. Staring at his computer screen probably hasn’t helped with that. If he takes something for it, it’ll probably be at least tolerable when it gets worse.

He opens the medicine cabinet, rifles through the couple bottles and the first aid kit he has stashed in there.

Right. He’s out of Advil.

It’s no matter. Just a quick grocery trip, then—he can grab the rest of his groceries while he’s at it. Yves shuts the bathroom cabinet, grabs his wallet and keys, and makes it all the way to the doorstep outside when the wave of dizziness hits him.

All of a sudden, he feels a little lightheaded. Heat crawls up under his skin, prickling and unpleasant, as if something in him has cranked up the heat generation to the max—but that can’t be right, because he’s shivering inexplicably in the wake of it. He leans his weight back against the wall, squeezes his eyes shut.

Fuck. He probably should have gotten groceries first, before sorting out everything for work. Perhaps going out on his own now would not be the wisest.

He heads back in, locks the door, and—after some thought—calls Mikhail.

Mikhail picks up on the second ring. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Are you busy?” Yves starts, but the words catch on his throat, and he has to stop immediately to muffle a cough into his elbow. 

There’s a moment of silence on the other end. “It depends what you’re about to ask me for,” Mikhail says.

Yves swallows. Shuts his eyes. He doesn’t like asking for help, but he doesn’t think he’ll be in any state to be doing this on his own over the next few days. “It’s not that urgent. Just if you have time,” he says. 

He can almost feel Mikhail rolling his eyes on the other end. “You’d say that even if you were bleeding out.”

Yves laughs, startled. “I promise I’m not bleeding out. Just—do you think you could run to the store and get me some Advil?”

There’s another, longer pause on the other end. “Any time is fine,” Yves says. A part of him already regrets this. “If you’re busy right now—”

“I’ll be over in a few,” Mikhail says. Then the line goes dead.

—

He doesn’t remember drifting off, but when he wakes, it’s to a knock on the front door.

The knock is just for courtesy, of course. Mikhail is one of a few people whom he’s permitted the privilege—or the burden, perhaps—of having a spare copy of his apartment key.

Yves opens the door anyways.

There, in the windy April weather, Mikhail shuts an umbrella and leaves it dripping at his feet. “You look even worse than you sounded over call,” is the first thing he says.

Yves blinks at him, surprised. “Did I really sound that bad?”

In lieu of answering, Mikhail just looks at him, scrutinizing, the corner of his lip ticking downward. “What is it? An injury? A migraine?” When Yves shakes his head, Mikhail presses forward to pick a stray lint ball off of Yves’s shirt. His hand makes contact with Yves’s shoulder, and he frowns.

Before Yves has a chance to explain, he feels a tickle—not the first, today, and certainly not the last—surface. It’s irritatingly difficult to ignore, more irritating still when he finds himself forced to turn away, to duck into one arm—

“hHehh-!’ hEHh’yyiISCHh-HHEEW!”

The sneeze is rough enough to scrape against his throat. He coughs tightly into his raised arm.

“A cold,” Mikhail says, with a frown. “But usually you don’t take Advil for colds. Wait—don’t tell me this is something worse?”

Yves winces. What is he supposed to say to that? “The Advil was all I needed,” he says. “Thanks for making the trip. I owe you one.”

“No, I’m sure of it now,” Mikhail says. “If it were only a cold, you would’ve driven out to get this yourself.”

“It probably isn’t,” Yves says, neglecting to mention that he knows exactly where he caught this. “Thanks for bringing these. I’ll take the next couple days off. I—”

The next sneeze sneaks up on him. He ducks into his sleeve again, taking another step back.

“hHhEH’iiDzzsCHH-yYew!” The sneeze sends a burst of pain through his temples, and for a moment, he’s glad his face is too deeply buried into his sleeve for Mikhail to see.

“Does Vincent know?” Mikhail asks.

The question catches him off guard. “What?”

“That you’re apparently unwell enough to ask me to pick up Advil for you.”

Yves doesn’t like where this conversation is going. “I told you not to come if you were busy.”

“It’s not a problem,” Mikhail says. “But if you’re sick, shouldn’t he be over here, taking care of you?”

 “He’s had a really busy few weeks,” Yves says, which is true, but simultaneously might be true at any point during the year. He clears his throat. “I - coughcough - wouldn’t want him to catch this.”

“So he doesn’t even know,” Mikhail says.

…Perhaps Yves should’ve thought of a more convincing excuse. Mikhail isn’t the type of person to drop an issue after he’s raised it, and Yves had, perhaps, neglected to think about how—for all Mikhail does to appear casually disaffected—he’s one of the most perceptive people Yves has ever met. “He doesn’t have to know.”

“What are you talking about? He’s your partner. I’ll text him,” Mikhail says. It’s then when Yves recalls that Mikhail probably does have Vincent’s contact—exchanged before their trip to France, so that he could text them all to coordinate the rides to and from the airport.

“Wait,” Yves says, unable to keep the panic out of his voice. “Don’t. If you text him, he’ll - snf-! - feel obligated to come.”

Mikhail doesn’t lower his phone. “I’ll just ask him to drop by,” he says. “You can talk to him about it when he gets there.”

But that won’t happen—can’t happen—because Yves knows that if Vincent were to see him like this… 

I’d feel terrible if you caught this, he’d said. He’d sounded so upset over it. How can Yves, after all his reassurances last week, admit to him now that he’s faring badly enough to need someone to look after him? 

Besides, Vincent probably has enough on his plate already. Yves knows enough to know that in their line of work, taking time off almost always means being swamped with assignments upon return. 

“Please don’t ask him anything,” Yves says.

Mikhail looks long and hard at him. He looks as though he’s trying to puzzle something out. “Did you guys get into a fight, or something?”

“No,” Yves says. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Then, if you’re on good terms, why are you so resistant to the idea of him coming over?”

Yves squeezes his eyes shut, and then opens them. He can think of a dozen more excuses to field away the questions—that isn’t the hard part. Mikhail has always been good at seeing through his bullshit, but if Yves has to steer this conversation to a close through sheer willpower, he thinks he can do it. But then again—

Maybe it’s fine, he thinks, if Mikhail knows. For better or for worse, Mikhail is his best friend. Yves knows that if he asks him to keep his mouth shut about this, he will. 

“Vincent is my coworker,” he says, slowly.

Mikhail’s eyebrows creep up. “Yes, I’m aware.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Yves says, with a cough. “He is just my coworker. Nothing else.”

The alarm that flashes across Mikhail’s face is unmissable. “You two broke up?”

And there it is—another crossroads, where Yves thinks the easiest course of action would be to reshape the current lie into a simpler one, to keep the trappings of their fake relationship intact. With anyone else, it would be easier, that is.

Yves says, honestly, “We were never together in the first place.”

“But you went with him to France,” Mikhail says, confused. “Not to mention, to Margot’s new year party, and then to Joel and Cherie’s housewarming. Are you telling me—”

“That was all an act,” Yves tells him, and waits for this information to register. “There is nothing between us that’s real. That’s the reason I haven’t called him.”

The recognition settles on Mikhail’s face. Then he laughs, a little disbelieving. “You’re really not dating him? Why would you lie about that?”

“Do you remember Margot’s party?” Yves asks. It seems like the right place to start, after everything. “Erika was there with Brendon. And I was bitter, and—to be honest, jealous—and I wanted to show her I was fine. So I asked Vincent to go with me.”

“That was months ago,” Mikhail says.

“It was easier to just keep up the act, after that.” Yves says. “Easier to have him accompany me once a month than it would have been to stage a proper breakup. But obviously, this is all temporary. I just haven’t figured out when it’s going to end.”

Mikhail is quiet for a moment. Yves looks past him, at the staircase that leads down to the first floor.

“You’ll be fine, then,” he asks. “If you two break it off.”

“Of course,” Yves says. “I know it’s going to happen someday.”

“You won’t be upset at all?”

“What is there to be upset over?”

“From the way you spoke to him, I really thought there was something there,” Mikhail says.

“He is a good liar,” Yves says.

“Maybe so,” Mikhail agrees. “But you are not.”

He says it so calmly, it barely registers as an accusation. But Yves hears it, loud and clear.

“Vincent is attractive,” Yves says. “Anyone with eyes can see that. That’s all there is to it.” it feels wrong, even as he says it. Yves has always known Vincent to be attractive—that much hasn’t changed. But he knows that the feeling in his chest when he sees him at work, in the break room, or at lunch—the unusual ache—is a little more than that. 

“Margot’s party was at the end of December,” Mikhail says. “It’s April, now. Margot wouldn’t tell you this, but since I don’t like withholding my feelings from you, I will.”

Yves waits—waits for Mikhail to tell him how all of this has been unduly dishonest, how Mikhail doesn’t appreciate having been lied to.

But Mikhail doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he says: “If you’re still intent on keeping this fake relationship up…” Here, he meets Yves’s eyes, a little sternly. “You should think about who you’re really doing it for.”

It’s only for convenience, Yves wants to say. Now that we’ve set things up already, it’s merely the path of least resistance. But that isn’t quite right, is it?

“Don’t worry about me,” Yves says, trying a smile. “Vincent and I have talked this through already. Whatever happens with our arrangement, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Mikhail says. He pockets his phone, and then hands Yves the bottle of Advil. “Sorry for the interrogation, then. If you believe it to be fine, I trust you.” Perhaps that’s the worst part of it. Mikhail has never been the type of person to stay quiet about any foreseeable problems, but Yves knows that his agreement now is not a tactical retreat, nor is it an acknowledgment that it’s not worth arguing over something they won’t agree on. Mikhail is dropping the subject because he really trusts him.

Yves just doesn’t know if that trust is justified.

Mikhail turns on his heels, steps delicately past the hinge at the bottom of the doorframe. 

Yves clears his throat. “Thanks for stopping by.”

Mikhail nods. “Feel better soon. If you need anything other than Advil, just give me a call.”

Then he’s gone. Yves shuts the front door behind him and wonders just what exactly he’s gotten himself into.

[lovelaetter]

yves and we all know she have a thing for older women and also i think she’s into petplay like she’s the puppy because i remember she had a message where she says she likes the nickname “puppy” (gangaji) when its come to older women calling her petname 😌

how came did i never think of this? because she’s the leader of all older women lovers 😭 she’s never beating the allegations

the puppy thing… jesus. very gross, very dirty, but my mind went instantly to her kneeling and with her tongue out, helpless but expectant because what are you doing to her now? are you giving her your fingers? are you shoving the strap down her throat? spitting in her mouth? she doesn’t know, but she wants whatever it is. and she probably cries like a puppy, pawing at your thighs because she needs you so desperately, to the point you have to tell her to shut up :(

like?? puppy core! trying to act nonchalant and bored and not desperate for attention with a driping cunt sooo bad

[sirenedeslily]

VIDEO OBSESSION〻ᯇ # matthew sturniolo

✦ SEARCHING FOR PROFILES… two results found !

result ONE out of TWO — @FallenAngels

Y/N GREENBLATT, streamer known for her gaming skills and pretty visuals. seven stars cigarette. moon during a snowstorm. mtl › nyc. thé matcha 26. nyx cold brew lip liner. ‘03 stargirl. coy. cinephile. back tattoos. vanilla vodka infused. alluring. chrome heart uggs. silver jewelry. white orchid. dazed. tangled & wired headphones. black cat. sirene gaze. sullen girl by fiona apple. sweet talker. guarded. shows care in subtle ways. handwritten letters. sensitive. classic black eyeliner, smudged like a memory. mushishi. overpriced coffee. blue velvet (1986). her dream collab? a limited-edition hoodie with cibo matto album art, designed by a tumblr artist she once reblogged. midnight ‘silent hill 2’ streams.

VICTORIA WALKER, cheetah print. manicured nails. dean blunt. monchhicci. started off streaming with y/n, now focusing on her music. tumblr girl gone global. fur boots. london › nyc. betty boop. tom ford vanilla sex. pocket-sized camcorder. ‘01 baby. rick owens. reclusive but magnetic. spider lily. ipod nano. minecraft. angels by a$ap rocky. paradise kiss. 11:11. chrome heart grills. dream collabs? yves tumor, peggy gou, and a track with a.g. cook that’s “still in the works.” mismatched tiffany bracelets. unreleased a$ap mob.

AERI UCHINAGA, pink-haired enigma. macbook photobooth. mean lesbian. twitch streamer turned cultural icon. cherry blossom. prettiestproblem on and offline. perfect blue (1997). harajuku streetwear. retired scene kid. björk. self-released ep titled “petal circuit”—a mix of shoegaze and hyperpop with haunting vocals. tokyo › nyc. widowmaker main. paranoia agent soundtrack. byredo’s blanche. ‘00 doll. two weeks by fka twigs. synth lab streams with modular glitches. dating ning yizhuo; model. domo.

HAMZAH SALEH, slush puppie. bone comics. vintage quiksilver tees. duct-taped backpack. messy. tony hawk fingerboards. his youtube history? “how to ollie without looking lame”. polar bears. co-runs slushy noobz; a youtube channel. created a subreddit called r/CherrySlushiesAnonymous. circa ‘02. napoleon dynamite (2004). cherry airheads. sega dreamcast he won’t shut up about. ck one. spider-man pez. xbox 360. unbrushed curls. owns a lego keychain of marah; his girlfriend. scrawny by wallows. steve lacy.

MARAH ADEL, doll eyes. celestial paradox. possession (1981). iced lavender lattes, leaves the last sip untouched “for the spirits”. heaven by marc jacobs. medieval angelology. ethel cain. ‘03 angel. tattoo artist of the hidden soul, her studio, melancholie, drips in velvet, candied amethyst light, and the faint hum of dusty jazz vinyl. etruscan art. dario argento films. night drives to nowhere. secretly hid a chipped rose quartz under hamzah’s bed. antique heart lockets. soft leather boots. faded polaroids. sparse. mtl › nyc. messy bangs. labdanum no. 3. seperpentskirt by cocteau twins.

back to masterlist! - profile two @ChromeHearts

🖥️𓈒ིུ✧꫶᳜᳝͟ᰭ✿⃨ TRENDING NOW ! matt sturniolo was known for many things: his striking looks, his dominance in the gaming world, and his complete inability to keep his cool around beautiful women. so it’s almost poetic—almost—that his fiery temper explodes during an intense fortnite match, broadcasted live to thousands, only to discover later that the player who completely shattered his pride was y/n greenblatt, one of the most beloved streamers in the community—and undeniably beautiful.

𝒢𝜚 💭 ࣪ ✸ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ∿ plsplsplspls send asks about these characters !!!

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