#stylish lady pink

[prismstonearchives]

スタイリッシュレディピンク - Stylish Lady Pink

[starleska]

alright i know you guys have come to expect nothing but the highest calibre of incomprehensible character crushes from me but am i allowed a little crush on Velvette? bc she's really cute 😳👉👈

[kissatoru]

𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓

pairing. sub!vampire!levi ackerman x dom!gn!reader

synopsis. in 19th century society, everyone has secrets they want to keep from seeing the light of day — so what will happen when you unveil levi’s?

content. implied virgin/touch-starved!levi, ooc levi at some points cause of vampire hormones, plot before porn, blood/blood-drinking kink, oral fixation, dry humping, handjob, inappropriate use of cravats, petnames (dearest, darling)

notes. first fic of hornyween!! the others won’t be as long lol this took FOREVER. anyway, please consider reblogging if you enjoy it<3

wc. 5k

Sparkling chandeliers adorn the ballroom’s high ceilings, making the polished floor gleam like honey as stylish figures twirl and glide across it. The rest of the guests are gathered by the walls in clusters, their lively chatter and chuckles mixing in with the night’s melodies.

You stand by one of the pink brocade curtains, sipping a glass of champagne. Your stance is relaxed but mannerly; not seeking nor avoiding attention, just observing and occasionally humouring a fellow guest that takes notice of your presence. Among those who approach you, admirers are plentiful, with faces of various qualities and contours, and characters both pleasant and not, but none who gain more than a few minutes of your time before you’re politely concluding the conversation or excusing yourself entirely.

As you’re meandering through laughing circles and swaying couples, away from yet another adamant admirer, you scan the room for him: the main reason you attended this ball at all. He rarely arrives for the banquets, and when he does, he even more rarely eats more than is expected of him. Now that the dancing has begun, he should be here, but you’ve yet to spot a single trace of him. It has made you restless, your eyes desperate in their pursuit. Each time you catch a glimpse of dark hair and pale skin or a short stature and a neatly tied cravat, you’re just as suddenly disappointed when you realise it’s not him. Eventually, you fall back into the same routine as before ��� entertaining married couples, faking laughs at bad jokes, listening to shallow gossip.

“Goodness, me,” Baroness Azumabito gushes at you, “you are as charming as they say, Your Grace.”

You chuckle courteously. “You’re too kind, Lady Azumabito.”

She offers you a closed-eye smile, her crow’s feet pinching together. “I truly must ask,” she begins, unfolding her peacock-feather fan and speaking a little quieter now. You already know it’s certainly not something she must ask. “What are your plans on marriage? You have no small number of choices, I’m sure!”

She giggles a little too hard for your liking, and you are reminded of the not-so-pretty piece of gossip you heard only a mere ten minutes ago — her husband’s gambling problems, her unmarried child. Quite the ideal motive for her to talk to you; someone who has both higher status and greater wealth. Of course, you know not all hearsay is true, but with a smile like Lady Azumabito’s, cunning as a fox and twice as sneaky, trust is a risk you’re not willing to take.

You laugh again. “Oh, none at the moment,” you say, feigning ignorance, “I’m so busy these days, I feel as though a partner might be…”

At the edge of your vision, a dark-haired silhouette passes. Your head moves in search of it, your eyes following, flicking this way and that. However, amidst the sea of extravagant gowns and upscale suits, the glimpse you had managed to catch slips from your grasp all too soon.

“Might be what?” Kiyomi asks.

An uneasy sense of disappointment hollows in your chest, but you ignore it. “Uh, a distraction. Would be... a distraction.”

Another flash of shadowy hair, porcelain skin.

Kiyomi clears her throat. “Do you care to elaborate, Your Grace?”

Just as you’re about to turn back to her, a figure stops in clear view before you: a metre and a half tall, raven black locks, eyes as sharp as falcon talons, an intricately tailored waistcoat — and the swan-white ruffles of a linen cravat.

A huff is your only warning before the short woman is stepping in and obscuring your line of sight, her round eyes now pressed into slits by her strained smile. “Please forgive my impudence, Your Grace, but what has you so–”

You abruptly but gently take her hands into yours. “Pardon my manners, Lady Azumabito,” you say, already shifting on your feet in preparation for your departure, “but I’ve spotted an acquaintance of mine with whom I’d like to discuss some private matters with.” You let go of her hands and give a curt bow. “If you’ll please excuse me.”

Her dumbfounded expression is the last you see of her before you swiftly take your leave. You track the person with your eyes and feet in tandem, each step purposeful and your eagerness barely contained. Once you’re in arm’s length, you cheerily call out:

“Viscount Ackerman!”

Several people turn their heads. The Viscount in question stops no later, though seemingly reluctantly. He turns to face you, a question perched on the peak of his raised eyebrow.

Your shoes clack as you stride the rest of the way up to him. Once beside him, you lean over and flash him a cheeky smirk. “Fashionably late as always?” you remark, but it fails to prompt any sort of perceptible reaction. The only change in his expression is his eyebrow returning to its relaxed position.

“And I see you are…” Silver blue eyes wash over you, up and down, in a single steady motion. “In attendance. As always.”

“Of course,” you reply with a practised smile. “I would not dream of missing one of the Duke of Trost’s parties.”

He hums. “I don’t doubt that.”

You hum back, thoughtful. “And what of yourself, my Lord?” you ask. “What brings you here?” You pause to smile knowingly. “Certainly not the food, seeing as you were absent for that.”

His eyes narrow and his lips press together in a firm line. “If you must know, the Duke was very insistent that I attend,” he explains, eyeing a passing servant before picking up a flute of champagne from their tray. “As for my tardiness… I prioritised taking care of some business affairs, first and foremost. Though I suppose I shouldn’t expect you to understand.” He swirls the liquid around in his glass and takes a sip.

You chuckle heartily. “Oh, come now!” you exclaim. “Why so hostile? Are we not friends?”

“Only in public,” Levi corrects in a low tone.

You turn to face the room, smirking against your glass. “That’s not true and you know it.”

A newly-engaged couple you were conversing with earlier passes by, waving. You smile and wave back at them.

Levi makes an exasperated noise. “Do you never tire of that?” he grumbles into his glass.

You bring your own glass up to your lips. “Whatever do you mean, my Lord?”

He grimaces. “That.”

You giggle. “Keeping up appearances is just the way I was raised,” you reply with a gesture of nonchalance, “but not all my smiles are fake, you know. It’s quite pleasant, smiling.” You beam at him, as if to prove your point. “I think you ought to try it some time.”

Levi scowls. “I know how to smile.”

“Oh, I never said you didn’t, my Lord,” you quip. “I have no doubt that you understand it in theory, just that you should try putting it into practice.” You point to the corner of your mouth, lifting it to mimic a smile.

He sucks his teeth and tears his gaze away from your own. “You’re infuriating.”

“And yet, here you are,” you say, stepping closer. “For longer than ten seconds, might I add. Surely a feat, no?”

Levi scoffs. “Don’t flatter yourself.” He raises his glass, speaking over the lip of it. “You just happen to be the least infuriating one here.”

You bite your tongue — “Well, by your standards, being the least infuriating is, in fact, quite flattering!” — and instead, you glance around and lean in. “In that case, what do you say we go find a place away from all this poor company?” Your voice takes on a lighter yet all the more meaningful tone. “Perhaps somewhere just for the two of us?”

There’s a glint of interest in Levi’s eyes that doesn’t go unnoticed by you as you pull away to look at him. “I would say that’s highly inappropriate,” he says, hushed, but not in a way that matches his words; hushed in a way that suggests intrigue.

“Inappropriate?” you echo, lips curving into a smile. “You really needn’t worry so much, my Lord! We shan’t be away for long, I promise.”

Levi’s thin eyebrows angle up. After a moment of contemplation, he closes his eyes and sighs. “If you insist,” he concedes.

Without further discussion, you set aside your and Levi’s drinks, then go ahead and stroll over to the arched doors with Levi not far behind.

With how often the Duke hosts such extravaganzas, you’ve had plenty of occasions to become familiar with the layout of their home, hence why you know where all of the rooms are. You navigate through the narrow hallways with an air of confidence, occasionally stopping to praise or snicker at family paintings and decor choices, much to Levi’s chagrin.

“What is it now?” Levi asks, attempting to pinpoint the subject of your attention this time.

You stand by a window that faces the rear garden, peering through the glass with squinted eyes. “Do my eyes deceive me or is that the Countess of Ehrmich and her handmaid kissing out in the gazebo?” You turn to Levi with a theatrically outraged jaw-drop, making him roll his eyes.

“You are no better than those gossiping simpletons we left in the ballroom,” he scolds as he draws the curtains shut.

You chuckle. “Apologies! Only a jest!” He glares at you but otherwise doesn’t complain. You watch him for a moment, how his nimble fingers tug and adjust the curtains, how he mutters expletives under his breath at the dust that transfers to his hands from the curtains.

Feeling mischievous, you lean in, so your lips are almost touching his ear. “It’s just so fun to tease you, I can’t resist.”

Goosebumps raise on Levi’s skin as he flinches away from you, fingers hovering over where your breath brushed his earlobe. He swallows. “Maybe you ought to practise some self-restraint.”

You smirk. “Maybe you ought to have less of it.”

He frowns. “How would that benefit anyone?”

You take a step closer. “Try it and find out.”

Levi takes a step back, but you take another step forward. His back bumps into a solid surface as your hand reaches out. He freezes in anticipation.

The click of a door handle, then a quiet creak.

“I believe,” you say, smiling cattily and circling around him, “I have found the drawing room.”

Levi huffs. “Finally,” he mumbles and pushes past you through the door. You follow after him, shutting the door behind you.

The room is a size you’d expect given how large the rest of the residence is. A ceiling mural depicting an Ancient Roman legend; tall windows and velvet curtains. At the centre of the room, atop a patterned rug, gold and beige furniture is arranged in a thoughtful composition. Dainty — yet no doubt expensive — decorations and trinkets adorn various corners, shelves and walls.

In one of the armchairs, Levi sits down, exhaling long and heavy, as if he had been holding his breath all night. You, on the other hand, decide to explore the room first, ambling between the furnishings and admiring the cosiness of the space. Absent-mindedly, you run a finger along the spines of some books piled on top of a small table, tracing the ribbed leather and embossed text.

“At last, some peace and quiet, hm?” you say, mostly just to occupy the air with something of substance, as you glance at Levi.

He’s sitting with one elbow resting on the seat’s floral print armrest, the pads of his fingers massaging the area between his eyebrows. “Until you spoiled it, yes,” he grunts.

The beginnings of a witty remark form, then just as quickly dissipate from your tongue. The corners of your lips sink, the lines in your face waning into nothing.

With his face cast down, Levi is oblivious to the change in your expression. It isn’t until you take two, five, ten or so steps — when the silence drags on without a response of your own — that he raises his head.

“Actually,” you start, standing by the armchair across from him, only a few feet away, “I brought you here to discuss something with you.”

His reaction is stalled but still comes in the form of a puzzled frown. “Go on, then.”

The floorboards squeak under your weight as you take another few steps forward. Levi shifts in his chair. “We agreed to be honest with one another, Levi. To not keep secrets,” you say, “yet I have good reason to suspect you haven’t entirely been maintaining your end of the agreement.”

As he opens his mouth to defend himself, your approaching footsteps finally seal the remaining distance between you. You step in to occupy the space between his knees and the contact is enough to make them jolt away as if from flames. Levi stares down at them until he catches the movement of your arms in the corner of his vision.

In your hands is a book, presumably from the stack you were observing earlier. He had been so absorbed in the shrinking space between you that he didn’t stop to consider that perhaps the arms linked behind you might be holding something.

His eyes roam the book, then fall on the shining yellow words etched into the front cover:

The Vampyre

by John William Polidori

Electric impulses fire through his body. His mouth goes dry. “I told Hange to get rid of that.”

“Really? Why is that?” you ask, turning it over in your hand. “I hear it’s quite good.”

Levi can’t stop the irritation from showing on his face. “The problem is not with the book itself.”

It’s the influence it has on imbeciles like Hange, he finishes in his head. Imbeciles who’ll believe anything with enough coincidences and paranoid witness accounts. Sure, Hange is a special case, because they’re not so much afraid of the rumoured existence of ‘vampires’ as they are curious, which is arguably worse — especially since, for once, the imbeciles are right.

“Then what’s the problem?” Your frown seems to be of genuine confusion, but Levi knows better. There’s an underlying something just waiting to reveal itself.

Levi folds his arms across his chest. “What does this have to do with our agreement?”

The smile returns to your face, but it is unlike any that Levi is used to seeing; not fake, but not entirely trustworthy either. “Surely you’ve figured out that much by now.” You set the book aside. “Really, Levi. Do you take me for some kind of fool?” Your hands come forward and clasp the armrests of his chair. “Did you really think I don’t know that… you’re a vampire?”

Levi scoffs. “Do you hear yourself?” He narrows his eyes at you. “Vampires are a baseless conspiracy. A ludicrous superstition fabricated by the English that only a credulous halfwit–”

A hand grabs him by the cheeks, cramming the rest of his words back behind his teeth. “Open your mouth,” you order.

The suddenness of the command evaporates any and all thoughts from Levi’s head, replacing them with a purely chemical reaction in the form of heat striking through him. Gradually, you push his head back — and he lets you — while a hard mound he can only assume is your knee eases between his parted legs, coercing a gasp from his mouth. As soon as his jaw loosens, your fingers are poking through the gap between his lips, moving as if hunting for something. They settle around his upper canines, sliding over and prodding at them, over and over, until eventually they begin to grow, extending down, down into a sharp, tapered point, much too long for what can be considered human.

Levi groans, but the sound is much too airy for pain or discomfort to be the cause of it. Drool is gathering beneath his tongue and blood in his cheeks. How humiliating it is to have his fangs coaxed out by the close proximity of his carnal weakness — by someone who should be his prey in this dynamic — and how all the more humiliating it is to have the strike of heat from before already invading the rest of his body.

Only once the fangs have stopped growing do you cease your petting, opting instead to drag a single fingertip along the newly-revealed length of bone. “My, my,” you coo, “it seems that the truth has spoken for itself.” You remove your fingers from his mouth, but Levi’s head remains in its position against the backrest. “Whatever shall I do with you, now that I have you at my mercy?”

Your fingers travel down his exposed throat. Like a frightened prey animal, Levi’s body digs into the cushioned upholstery, trying to comprehend the foreign feeling of being touched in this way. Breaths beat out through his nose in quickening puffs and miniscule tremors rattle through his chest as he attempts to control, or perhaps conceal, the frantic rise and fall of it. Beneath your fingertips, you can feel his heartbeat, the pulse so solid that if you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was hitting his ribcage with every beat.

“Are you afraid?” you ask him quietly, your fingers continuing their path downward.

Levi swallows, lets out a heavy breath but doesn’t answer. You watch him, analyse him. His tightly closed eyes, the sweat coming through his clothes… “Then perhaps you’re—” His unsteady breaths, his contracting muscles— “aroused?”

His Adam’s apple lifts and then drops. You follow the motion with your eyes, then lower, lower and lower, until you find the answer you’re looking for in his oh-so-conveniently open thighs. He immediately attempts to shut them, but your own prevent him from doing so.

“No need to be ashamed,” you assure him as you smile that knowing smile and carefully climb on top of his lap. “I can help to relieve you. If you wish.” You rub your bottom half against his hardened groin as a testament to your words.

Levi’s neck stretches over the backrest, an open-mouthed moan escaping him, then retracts back to his chest. His eyebrows cinch together in thought, but the way his hips rut into you has already declared his decision, so when his eyes finally flutter open and peer up at yours, you are unable to suppress your look of delight.

“Please,” is all he says — and all he needs to say to send your mind and self-control reeling.

You pounce forward, ravaging his lips with your own, while you grind down again; harder than before, and with more finesse. The noise that Levi makes into your mouth is much too heavenly for a creature of such damnable origin, yet as addictive as if it had been produced by a devil of temptation itself.

The swipe of a sleek surface has you parting from him on instinct. “Careful of your teeth, darling,” you warn and he nods as if in a daze before pulling you back in. He paws at your clothes, helpless and wanting, as though he aches to bring you closer. You let out an enraptured sigh at his aggressive gesture. After all, what an honour it is to have the stoic Viscount Levi Ackerman falling apart and moaning pathetically beneath you; what sacrilege to be a mortal defiling its natural predator. You feel as though you’re going mad, losing all sense of self from the sheer thrill of it.

You drag yourself away from his lips, only to see the full effects of your actions. Strong features softening as though he’s melting from the pleasure. Eyes squeezed shut while his glossy black hair, usually so perfectly combed, fans out in loose strands over his forehead. Razor-sharp nails mauling the armrests. Two fanged teeth poking out from under his lip.

In minutes, Levi is curling into you and crying out against your skin. You guide him through his climax, raking your fingers up from his undercut and through the strands at the top while whispering caring words to him, in soothing repetition. He collapses into you, his arms limp at your sides and his panting breaths warm on your neck. Before you can push him away, he’s mindlessly nuzzling and lapping at your throat like a dog, coating your skin in spit, sucking and occasionally catching his fangs on the fragile flesh. It would be a lie to say you aren’t enticed by the prospect of them breaking through; moving with more purpose and sinking into your–

Levi whines against your shoulder. “Please, let me have a taste. I’ll do anything, please,” he mumbles. “It’s been so long, I– I cannot wait any longer, please, I beg of you…” He pulls away, licking his lips, as if the taste of your skin is enough to last and cherish. “Please,” he begs, “let me drink your blood.”

You smile, wide, and brush back the hair tickling his eyes. “Only since you asked so nicely.”

As soon as the words enter the air, Levi lunges at you. You’re almost not fast enough, but manage to get a hold of him.

You pin his wrists on either side of his head, and the tightness of your grip seems to snap Levi out of his ravenous trance. “That wasn’t very polite,” you reprimand. Levi only looks up at you regretfully, which is likely the closest thing you’ll get to an apology from him. You sigh. “Don’t worry.” You let go of him and slide your palm under his chin. “Open–”

His jaw falls slack in an instant, granting you access to the inside of his mouth. You trail your fingers around his wet lips first, this way and that, slow and soft, just to hear him whine. You giggle but finally slip a finger inside and Levi groans in time with it. His tongue is the next thing to fall from his mouth, hanging over his lip and dripping saliva onto his shirt.

“What a sight,” you breathe. “I wonder what our fellow nobles would think.”

Levi moans softly as you poke your fingertip into the point of one of his fangs. You hiss as it pierces the skin and wait for the blood to collect before turning your finger over.

“Tilt your head back, dearest,” you say, and Levi does so with haste. You dangle your finger above his eager tongue and watch his eyes roll back as the first drop hits his taste buds. He savours the flavour like a man starved of water, his mouth pooling with drool, and whimpers in anticipation of the next drop.

Your eyes are fixated on him, as if hypnotised, and engulfed in sick amusement from the power you have over him. Your thumb sits under your fingertip, forcing out the liquid with steady presses, but for Levi, it’s still not enough. Animalistic hunger and impatience possess him. His arms come to life to grab your wrist and yank it toward his mouth. He manages to swallow your finger whole before you can react, though the sight is much too precious for you to deny or scold him anyway.

The grip around your wrist turns vice-like as he feverishly sucks the blood from your finger. His closed eyelids twitch and runny spit oozes down his chin. You look on in adoration at the sweetly depraved state you have him in. Who would think that a blood-sucking monster could be this docile and helpless?

Levi’s panting grows heavier until you begin to feel him rutting against you. When you look down, the lump of his crotch has regained hardness, already straining against the dark material. “Aroused again so soon?” you taunt.

He is so engrossed in sucking that he doesn’t seem to hear you, so you tug your finger out of his mouth and hands. He grunts in protest, but you ignore him and try again. “Would you like me to take care of that for you?”

As if freshly woken from a daze, or perhaps still in one, those folds you’re so used to seeing between his eyebrows take shape in a show of gentle confusion. “Take… care of what?”

You bring a hand down to his lap and lightly tap the bulge that’s formed there, making him tense and spasm under you. He must still be sensitive, you think with a smile.

“Of this,” you clarify.

He swallows. “Okay.”

“Okay?” You stifle a chuckle. “It’s a yes or no question, Levi, so answer with a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’.”

He sighs and evades your eyes as he hisses out a reluctant “Yes.”

“Good boy,” you praise and begin to make quick work of the buttons on his trousers.

Levi frowns. “Don’t call me that. I am not a dog.”

You laugh through your nose, amused. “Yet you drool and whimper just like one.” You playfully stare up at him through your lashes. He doesn’t say anything back, just blooms a deeper pink, so you accept your win and finish unbuttoning his trousers. Next, you unfasten the strings of his undergarments, freeing his leaking length.

As soon as your fingers make contact with it, Levi writhes. His legs squirm and his hips buck up into your touch. In seconds, the wet head of his cock is dripping with bead after bead of precum. In your awe of his intense reaction, you find yourself experimentally toying with it; squeezing, tugging, kneading, fingering. Obscene noises created by the remnants of his previous release make colour fill Levi’s usually colourless cheeks. His glinting grey eyes are lidded, his head dizzy and delirious. His mouth is hanging open in surrender to the erotic sounds he cannot help making, tongue dyed scarlet from your blood and glistening with saliva. You adore it — are spurred on by it, even — but his volume is now teetering on too loud, and the last thing you want right now is to be caught.

So with one hand on his dick, keeping him distracted, you hurriedly untie his cravat and stuff it into his inviting mouth. A startled, confused but thankfully muted moan rumbles through the cloth. You grin at the conflicted eyes and knitted eyebrows you get in response to your actions, entirely unbothered as you continue to take him apart with your touches, to watch him become the embodiment of debauchery. Moonlight skin shiny with sweat, teeth gnawing around his makeshift gag, pelvis involuntarily meeting your movements, elbows pointing to the ceiling as he desperately scratches and claws at the back of the chair, surely ruining it beyond repair with his needlepoint nails and vampiric strength. So effortlessly picture-perfect.

No more than a few seconds later, he’s arching his back against the chair and wailing into his linen gag. The wood of the backrest splinters and the upholstery tears loudly under his fingernails. Warm fluid gushes out over your fist and dribbles down it as you continue stroking his length. Your other hand takes out the cravat from Levi’s mouth and wipes up the mess. He lets out a few wet little warbles and whimpers at the overstimulating feeling, but quietens down once you finish.

You don’t allow him a second to recuperate from his high, instead satiating your own desires; snatching his face up in your hands and latching your lips onto his in one smooth motion. Tongues curl together and the metallic tang of your own blood swarms your senses. Levi keens and grips the fabric at your waist. By the time your mouths separate, you’re both breathless and gasping against each other, and the allure of his dishevelled state has you unable to resist trailing a few extra kisses on his skin; from the corner of his mouth to his jaw, on the soft spot behind his ear and down his delicate neck. Levi grabs at your shoulders weakly, but when you pull back to check on him, his gaze drops to your laps.

“How did you find that?” You tilt your head. “Good?”

Better than good, so much better — is what he thinks, but what he settles on saying is “Yes, it– it was good.”

The smile that stretches across your cheeks is inevitable, and the most sincere one you’ve had the entire night. “Well… as much as I would like to keep going,” you say, chewing on your inner lip corner, and making Levi flush, “I think it’s time we go back.”

You climb off of the chair and straighten out your clothes. Meanwhile, Levi tries, and fails, to stand up, his knees buckling and sending him flopping back into the seat.

You sigh sympathetically and caress the side of his face. “You should rest for a moment,” you tell him. Your fingers glide down to his chin, take it into your hand and wipe the spit, along with the traces of smeared blood, from his lips. “Perhaps neaten up your appearance, in the meantime?” you add with a smirk.

Some awareness seems to have awoken in him, perhaps as a result of your teasing, because he pouts and replies with, “I was planning on doing so anyway.”

You don’t say anything else, taking that moment to appreciate the silence, just the distant echo of music and the tick of the clock on the mantelpiece. Luckily, it does not take long for Levi’s ragged breaths to calm, and for his thighs to reclaim their strength. You help to clean up his image, fastening up garments, flattening out creases and wiping away or concealing the evidence of your activities. Kisses are exchanged in between; some of them stolen, some of them followed by giggles, and some by lustful gazes.

Once you’re ready to leave, you head for the door, but you only go as far as clasping the gold handle before stopping and turning to Levi. His eyebrows shift in that way they’re so good at, speaking when words don’t need to. Your eyes sketch out a path down his face, all the way to his lips, where you find yourself already missing the blood, drool and pearly fangs…

Before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching for his nape and wrapping your plush lips around each other.

“If you’re well-behaved tonight,” you rasp against his lips, “I’ll treat you to more than just a finger next time.”

taglist. @jazzyluuv <3

[tenelkadjowrites]

Everyday at the Bus Stop ♡ - Seonghwa x Reader (NSFW)

🚌 Summary: Your crush on fellow passenger, Seonghwa, changes into something new the day the bus breaks down.

🚌 Word count: 9k

🚌 Genre and warnings: one shot smut. fem pronouns for reader. oral sex. unprotected sex. creampie. 

🚌 Tags: @thewonderofkpop - @obligatoryidolblog - @yunhofingers - @foggyinternetchaos - @multiland - @whatudowhennooneseesyou - @jess-1404 - @just-here-to-read-01 - @likexaxdaydream - @senpai-of-doom - @lilhwahwa - @btsreader12 - @talkbykhalid - @hwasrie-main - @inneratinyrebel - @8tinytings - @cherrypandora - @xirenex - sorry if i missed anyone.

this fic is not meant to represent seonghwa in any way, shape or form.

Monday

              You glance at the time on your phone, tapping your foot impatiently. Having already been sitting on the bus for over an hour, you are anxious to get home from work. The day is endless, your feet hurt, and all you want to do was crawl into bed.

               But of course the bus, which moved at the glacial pace of a snail on a good day, now found itself stuck in traffic. Slumping lower in your seat, you exhale slowly, rummaging through your bag to find your headphones. This ride is more boring than usual because he isn’t here, you think sullenly. You aren’t sure how many other people had a Bus Crush to pass away the time but yours didn’t show up today.

               You wonder if he’s sick. Or maybe something worse – he got a different job and didn’t have to take this bus any longer. That would be just your luck. In the past year, he had been at your bus stop every evening. His stop was somewhere after yours because he remained when you left.

               Bus Crush was gorgeous, the sort of ethereal beauty that seemed to exist only in magazines, not public transportation. He would sit down in the same spot every trip, pull out a book and read quietly to himself. No headphones to block out the drone of the bus, just taking the full brunt of the loud engine and traffic noises himself. He usually wore some of the most stylish, well put together clothes you’ve ever seen. His hair was as black as his painted nails. He typically wore one silver earring that would dangle and sway with each bump of the bus, occasionally catching the evening light. His jaw, well defined as if cut from marble, matched his equally picturesque cheekbones and his lips were always perfectly plump and a nice shade of pink. You knew literally nothing about him, not even his name.

               But you knew he was gorgeous, you knew he was the hottest person you’ve ever seen, and you knew that if he ever glanced in your general direction, you would probably faint on the spot.

               Still…not having him around made the bus trip worse than usual.

               With a small sigh, you close your eyes, hit play on the music and try to zone out.

 Tuesday

               You recognize his silhouette before he even comes into clear view. He is standing at the bus stop, waiting patiently for it to arrive. Today, he wears a coat made of a thin pale blue material with his hands shoved into the pockets, his face tilted in the direction of where the bus would pop into view. The other people at the spot vanish in front of your eyes as relief hits you that he is here today and yesterday had been a fluke. Maybe he really was sick or something, you think, shuffling towards the overhang, sneaking an extra glance at him.

               Bus Crush doesn’t notice but an older lady that is at the stop every Tuesday and Thursday does, ducking her head to hide her smile. Fine, so maybe it is evident to other people that you are admiring him but as long as he never notices you exist, does it matter? Such beauty like his is impenetrable anyway.

               The bus arrives on time and you trail in after Bus Crush just to catch a little bit of his cologne which always smells faintly of the woods. You wonder what he does all day, you wonder why he is always on the stop just like you. You know the answer is most likely something benign like work or school but some days your imagination gets away from you, resulting in fantastic scenarios being created.

               All the regulars slip into the usual spots. If one of their spots is taken, they simply take the one closest to it. Your seat is near the window but also offers a good view of Bus Crush’s profile. Sinking down into your seat, you watch as Bus Crush pulls the book out of his coat pocket. His thin and slender fingers find the bookmark, opening to the page. The book is well worn as if it has been read a thousand times.

               Things are back to normal. Bus Crush has returned to his spot, reading quietly, and you are in yours, sneaking glances at him. Just how it should be.

 Wednesday

               All you want to do is get home and go to sleep. Having slept badly the night before, work today killed the little spirit remaining. That explains why, when your bus stop comes around, you scamper out of your seat, anxious to get home.

               It also explains why you aren’t paying attention to much, including your things. You are almost at the exit of the bus when a voice slices through the sound of the bus engine idling.

               “Wait, miss,” Someone calls out and you hesitate, slowing down and glancing over your shoulder.

               To your amazement, it is Bus Crush speaking. At first, the idea that his words are directed at you seem ridiculous. Why would he talk to you now? But as he moves forward, it hits like brunt force to the chest that he is looking at you.

               He wears a black button up with a small black jacket today, the silver earring dangling with each step. His shoes are polished, same with the silver belt buckle wrapped around his slender waist. Dazed, you watch as Bus Crush stops in front of you. He is saying something but your brain feels as if it has been submerged underwater and everything is hazy.

               “What?” You manage to say, trying not to focus on the fact that his skin is literally perfect – how the hell does he manage that feat?

               Bus Crush looks downward and your gaze follows. In the palm of his hand is your cellphone.

               “You left this behind in your seat,” He repeats himself.

               How are his eyelashes that long? Your brain is refusing to cooperate, leaving you to languish in front of the most intense crush you’ve ever had in your life. You can’t deal with the fact you are standing this close to Bus Crush or that he is speaking directly to you.

               He raises his eyes to meet yours. The gaze is electric and the seconds turn into hours. Gone is the bus noise, the vibrations underneath your feet, the tinny music being blasted out of someone’s headphones, the sounds of someone talking way too loudly on the phone. The entire universe is now located at this very spot.

               “T-thanks,” You manage to say, reaching for your cellphone.

               “No problem,” He replies – his voice is deeper than you thought it would be, sexier than it needed to be. Couldn’t the universe cut you a break in some area and make his voice sound like a chipmunk or something?

               You take your phone out of his hand. Your fingers brush against his warm skin, marveling at how soft it is before it all becomes too much – Bus Crush looking at you with an expression that is unreadable, the fact you are convinced your adoration of him is written all over your face, and the bus driver staring daggers at you for holding things up.

               “Thanks,” You repeat, taking a step back and then turning around, fleeing the bus as if it were on fire, leaving Bus Crush behind.

               It isn’t until halfway down the block you realize that in order for him to notice your phone had been left behind, he would have needed to be paying attention to you.

 Thursday

               He isn’t coming today, you think while staring at the bus doors which are going to close at any second. You don’t know if it is relief or disappointment that you’re feeling about Bus Crush not being here again this week. The interaction from yesterday has been playing in your mind repeatedly even when you wish that it wouldn’t. Just why are you dwelling on two seconds of attention from Bus Crush makes you feel embarrassed –

               And then, right as the doors are about to close, Bus Crush hurries through, apologizing to the driver. He is clutching his bag to his chest, slightly out of breath from running. His cheeks are flushed with colour, lips parted a little. Today, a black and white checkered coat hangs off his shoulders, wearing a black button up with silver buttons and a pair of slacks. A thin silver chain is around his dainty neck and a small black hat rests on his head. As usual, he looks too stylish and well put together for the setting but doesn’t seem to be aware of it.

               His eyes land on you. Something flickers across his face and his shoulders straighten as if coming to a decision. Then he walks down the aisle – and doesn’t stop at his seat. Instead, he stops in front of yours.

               “Would it be okay to sit next to you?”

               Confused, all you do is gawk at him. His seat is available. Why does he want to sit next to you? But the bus driver is glowering as the doors close so you nod hastily, squeezing out of the seat to allow Bus Crush to move into the middle seat.

               Plopping back down, acutely aware that at some point in time you have entered The Twilight Zone, you stare at the back of the seat in front of you. Bus Crush puts his bag down in the window seat, taking his hat off and shaking it out, running his fingers through his black hair.

               “Work ran late cuz of a meeting,” He says – to you, apparently, seeing as he angles his body slightly towards yours, “Almost missed the bus.”

               What the fuck is going on? You wonder. Did I fall today and this is all some dream from a really bad concussion? Why is he talking to me as if this is normal?

               Something must show in your face because Bus Crush ducks his head, a little embarrassed, and extends his hand. “Sorry. I’m Seonghwa. Sometimes I forget we haven’t talked because I see you everyday at the bus stop.”

               You automatically reach for his hand, driven by pure societal instincts, and are floored by the sensation of his skin against yours. In fact, it is so overwhelming that the handshake lasts approximately the length of your name before you pull away.

               Bus Crush, no wait, Seonghwa leans back in the seat, his hat resting in his lap. You struggle to find something to say but it is hard to wrap your head around the fact that he is sitting there talking to you. His fingers curl around the hat almost as if he is nervous himself but that would be impossible. His fingernails, still painted black, match the hat as he absentmindedly rubs the fabric a little.

               “You, uh, usually read, right?” You say and immediately regret it. Talk about plastering a big neon sign over your head that you watch him on the bus. You want to facepalm or maybe melt onto the floor but instead you just remain expressionless. Wow, nailed it, you think sarcastically.

               Seonghwa’s eyes widen ever so slightly as he nods. “I do, yeah. It’s about the only time I can get any reading done.”

               “I can hardly focus on this thing. That’s why I just listen to music.”

               “Well, don’t let me stop you,” He gestures towards your bag, “I’m content just to read.”

               Next to me? You want to ask but don’t. Bus Crush – damnit, Seonghwa – reaches into his own bag and pulls out the book. It is strange to watch the same process of him opening to his bookmark, long fingers skimming the pages to locate it before settling in his usual position to read.

               The world feels a bit off kilter. Seonghwa is meant to be in his usual spot, not knowing you exist. But here he is, next to you, reading his book quietly. You are trying not to stare but it is proving difficult. The curve of his nose, his jawline, those plump lips –

               Looking away before he catches you gawking at him, you rummage around in your bag for the headphones. Honestly, you don’t want to listen to music but what is the alternative? Staring at him? You want to ask why he is sitting next to you today but you don’t know what sort of answer would make you happy. It is easier to sit in silence than probe the strangeness of today.

               Settling in with the music on, you slump back in the seat. It is impossible not to look at Seonghwa. Your eyes are attracted to him like a magnet. You mentally tick off the new information you have learned about him the last couple of days: what his voice sounds like, what his hands feel like, the fact he works in an office, his name.

               The ride continues like this until your stop arrives. The act of shoving your headphones in your bag draws Seonghwa’s attention. He looks over at you.

               “Don’t forget your phone,” He reminds you gently.

               “Ah, right. I think I was just anxious to get home yesterday. Wasn’t thinking clearly.”

               The bus comes to a stop and you stand up, looking down at Seonghwa. His expression is open, trusting and directed strictly at you. The butterflies in your stomach threaten a riot.

               “See you tomorrow?” You venture, the words sitting here next to me unsaid and hanging in the air.

               He nods, smiling pleasantly. “See you tomorrow.”

               You turn around, exhaling slowly to try to calm down your wild heartbeat, exiting the bus and leaving Seonghwa behind.

 Friday

               Seonghwa isn’t late tonight. He is already at the bus stop when you arrive. He stands straight, his bag strap resting on one shoulder. He wears black slacks with the belt resting on his hips with a thin white button up dress shirt, the top two buttons undone, exposing some of his chest. A black ribbon is gently tied around his neck, forming a small bow on the side opposite of where his silver earring dangles.

               Seonghwa looks beautiful, statuesque and stylish in his outfit as usual. He seems to sense your arrival, turning his head in your direction as you approach. He gives a small wave, his smile showing off his perfectly white teeth.

               “Hi,” You say sheepishly, having not expected Seonghwa to greet you immediately.

               “How are you?”

               “Oh, I’m okay. A little tired. You?”

               “The same.”

               The conversation stalls. He is just looking at you now. Was it your turn to say something? What is there to say? You aren’t sure what is going on between you and Seonghwa. All you can tell is something is shifting, the dynamic turning into…friendship? No, it is too awkward for that. Could it be more than friendship? No, that’s your false hope speaking. For whatever reason, the two second conversation when Seonghwa stopped you from forgetting your phone has altered the dynamic of staring at him as he read his book, knowing he didn’t know you existed. Now, not only did he know but he seemingly wanted to engage.

               The bus pulls up then, saving you the embarrassment of asking a silly question just to fill the air. Everyone piles in, going to their respective spots – except Seonghwa, who sits next to you once again. As usual, he brings his book out, opening it up to read. You want to strike up a conversation about the book but don’t people hate being interrupted when they read? Seonghwa had stated this was the only time he got to read so why take that away from him?

               But you are spared bothering him because instead of reading right away, he asks, “Do you work around here then?”

               “I do, yeah. I just can’t afford a car so I take the bus. You said you work in an office nearby right?”

               Seonghwa looks a little embarrassed as he replies, “I don’t know how to drive. I’ve tried. I just get…a lot of anxiety and psych myself out. But it’s only a ten minute walk from the stop to the office I’m at so I figured it works out.”

               “What sort of work do you do there?”

               He makes a face. “It’s in accounting. It’s not very interesting. A lot of numbers day in and day out. You?”

               “I work as a receptionist at a medical office. It’s about as dull as I assume accounting is,” You realize what you said and immediately begin to backtrack, “Not that accounting is boring. I mean, for you. And the others working there.”

               Seonghwa laughs quietly, shaking his head. His earring swings, catching the light and glimmering. Your heart constricts at his laugh.

               “It’s okay. I did say it’s not very interesting, didn’t I?”

               You relax slightly, glad that you didn’t offend him. But before you can say anything else, there is a horrible grinding noise from the bus as it comes to a stop. The bus jostles hard and you are tossed against Seonghwa. His hand goes to your waist as you gasp in surprise.

               Up this close, you can smell his faint cologne. One of your hands is on his thigh, gripping it to steady yourself, your other hand flat against his chest. The sudden close proximity of Seonghwa, who used to be a distant figure on the daily bus rides, makes your brain buzz.

               His hand moves to your lower back, his voice dropping as he murmurs, “You okay?”

               “Yeah,” You say quickly, pushing away from Seonghwa, flustered from both accidently falling all over him and the way your heart is hammering in your chest.

               “Well,” Seonghwa remarks dryly, “Whatever that was, it didn’t sound good.”

                 He ends up being correct. The bus has broken down and everyone is shuffled off to the sidewalk. Standing there awkwardly, you watch as smoke rises from the back of the bus. People are mumbling, complaining, demanding to know when they can get home. Not that you want to be the bearer of bad news but you doubt it will be anytime soon, knowing how the public transit system runs even on a good day.

               After around twenty minutes, the driver announces another bus will come by to finish the route in an hour. Cue more grumbling. It is then that Seonghwa nudges you gently.

               “Do you wanna walk instead?”

               You blink, looking at him. The sun has dipped below the horizon, the final sprays of orange cast across the sky. In the hue of the approaching evening, Seonghwa’s skin looks luminescent and beautiful.

               Your distraction by his appearance must make you come off as hesitant because he suddenly looks nervous and keeps talking. “You get off the bus at the stop before mine. So we must live sorta close to one another. I can walk you home. You and I both know it’ll be faster than waiting around here.”

               The truth is that you desperately want to agree immediately. You’d walk halfway across the entire city if Seonghwa asked you, that’s how down bad you are for him. It is embarrassing to admit. But you also don’t want to have him walk too far out of the way and make his long night even longer.

               Pulling out your phone, you bring up the GPS app. “Put your address in so we can make sure you’re not going too far out of your way.”

               “I really don’t mind,” He says but takes your phone, inputting his address.

               You do so afterwards, taking note that he is only a twenty minute walk from your place. The guilt erased, you agree to walking home with Seonghwa instead of waiting around for a new bus. Your heart is beating hard, making it difficult to keep your cool around him. Without the buffer of the bus and other people, it is the first time you’ve been alone with him.

               Seonghwa walks with ease, occasionally checking his phone to make sure you’re both walking in the right direction. The temperature is starting to drop as the evening rolls in. Earlier in the day it had been quite stuffy and neither of you have jackets. Now, you are regretting the choice.

               But if Seonghwa is bothered by the cold creeping in, he doesn’t show it even though his button up appears thin. You trace the outline of the fabric against his skin, the way the ribbon is tied around his neck –

               “What is it?” He asks, tilting his face to look at you.

               “N-nothing,” You look away, pretending to be fascinated with a ramshackle looking gas station you’re walking by.

               Why is starting a conversation with him so difficult? Maybe the two of you have nothing in common and you’re just blinded by your physical attraction to him. Conversations are supposed to be effortless, right? That’s how you gauge attraction to someone. Everyone else you’ve either liked or crushed on had conversations flow pretty easily. But with Seonghwa, you’re so caught up in the intensity of the attraction and the depth of longing that your brain seems to stall like the bus earlier.

               “You’re pretty quiet,” Seonghwa observes, startling you from your brooding, “Are you naturally quiet or do I make you nervous?”

               Surprised, you stop walking. Seonghwa notices after a couple of steps, hesitating and then turning around to face you. It is at the point in time that the sign for the gas station flicks on, bathing Seonghwa in red and yellow light. On anyone else, it would look garish. But Seonghwa’s black hair soaks it up, and the neon drapes across him like a luxurious blanket.

               “Why would you make me nervous?” You deflect, worried that he has figured out you have a gigantic crush on him.

               “I’m sorry, I was just teasing. I don’t actually think I -” A car drives by blasting music at an obnoxious volume, drowning out whatever Seonghwa said after.

               “Sorry, what was that?”

               “I said that I don’t actually think I make you nervous,” He bites his bottom lip for a moment and then leans forward.

               Rooted to the spot, you can only stare at Seonghwa as he brings his hand up –

               To brush something off your shoulder. Your stomach swoops, locking eyes with him. He studies your face for a moment, his gaze lingering a beat too long on your lips.

               “You had a stray leaf on your shoulder,” He remarks softly. It should be impossible to hear him over the cars driving by yet somehow you do and it feels intimate. “Are you cold? You’re trembling a bit,” Another pause and then, “Unless I do make you nervous.”

               “Why would you make me nervous?” You say quickly, too quickly and Seonghwa’s eyebrows shoot up for a moment before it dawns on you that he is just teasing again.

               Somehow more flustered than before, you take off walking again. Your cheeks are warm and the cold does nothing to help. Seonghwa catches up with you.

               “Sorry, I was just – I was just kidding. I don’t mean to joke so much, it’s just a sort of defense mechanism –”

               Confused, you immediately go, “For what?”

               He falls silent, avoiding your gaze. The two of you walk past a restaurant that is bustling with the Friday night crowd and the scent of food makes your stomach grumble. A breeze kicks up, ruffling the ribbon around Seonghwa’s delicate neck when he finally replies.

               “Well, I just see you every day. At the bus stop and on the ride home. We sit near one another. But I don’t know you at all. You just feel familiar, you know? I guess cuz I see you every day. I want to make a good impression on you and I don’t want to embarrass myself.”

               His words take you by surprise. The honesty in his words is evident by the way he can’t seem to look at you. But you relax a bit, comforted by the fact that you aren’t the only one feeling flustered.

               “You could fall in front of me and it wouldn’t be embarrassing,” You remark, pointing to the sidewalk, “I mean, really just eat shit with your bag flying in the air and spilling everywhere. And it wouldn’t be embarrassing.”

               At this, Seonghwa laughs and shakes his head. “Now you’re lying. You would definitely laugh!”

               “Whoa, I didn’t say that I wouldn’t laugh. I just meant you wouldn’t have to be embarrassed,” Your tone softens, “There’s no pressure besides what we place on ourselves. I mean…I feel nervous talking to you too.”

               The two of you stop at a crosswalk, the don’t walk sign flashing as the cars zoom by. Seonghwa looks at you steadily.

               “How come?” He asks.

               “Well, it’s like you said. I see you every day. It’s like you’re a familiar face but I don’t actually know you. What if I make an ass out of myself and I have to see you on the bus every evening?”

               Okay, fine. You’re lying a bit. Yeah, your concern is real. But a huge reason for your nerves is that you’ve been crushing on him for so long. To suddenly be talking to Seonghwa, having him tease you, taking a walk home with him – it is a lot. You don’t want to mess anything up.

               The traffic stops, the light changes and the two of you cross the street as Seonghwa goes, “If anything goes sideways, I’ll…sit at the back or something so you don’t have to see me. We’ll make it as easy as possible.”

               “That won’t help. I’ll just feel you back there, staring at me.”

               “You think I sit around and stare at you while on the bus?”

               You are about to be embarrassed but this time you catch Seonghwa’s tone and point at him. “You’re teasing me again.”

               Seonghwa grins and shrugs. “Maybe a little.” That is when your stomach grumbles again, louder this time and he notices. He slows down, scanning the places around you. “Want to grab something to eat?”

               Why has the universe decided to gift you with (almost) every one of your fantasies in one evening?

               “Sure,” You say, “I haven’t eaten since lunch. Didn’t think I’d be walking home today.”

               “What about that place over there?”

               He points to a small nondescript place that seems to have less of a crowd than the other restaurants. You nod in agreement and in the next few minutes, the two of you arrive, are seated and looking at the menus. The place has a few people inside, mostly couples, and between the dim lighting and candles on each table, it dawns on you that this place is where you’d go on a date. But there’s no way Seonghwa would have known that when he picked it, you think sternly, so don’t get any ideas.

               As Seonghwa is engrossed in the menu, you pretend to be studying yours. In reality, you are sneaking glances of him. Some of his black hair has fallen in front of his eyes, his lips parted slightly as he focuses on the menu. Your eyes linger on the ribbon around his neck. There is a brief vivid mental image of giving it a sharp tug and pulling him in to kiss you.

               The picture jolts you to look away and stare at the menu instead. Of course, you’ve admired Seonghwa on the bus for awhile now. To say you haven’t thought about what it would be like to kiss him…and more…would be a lie. But you’ve been trying not to think about that stuff since he’s started talking to you out of paranoia it will show all over your face.

               But now you are aware of Seonghwa’s gaze shifting. His eyes are on you, he is studying your face. You pretend not to notice. If it were anyone else on the planet, you would entertain the idea that this person is interested in you. But it feels too good to be true that Seonghwa, formally known as Bus Crush, would be attracted to you.

               You raise your eyes a little, catching his stare. He immediately looks embarrassed, biting his bottom lip and looking at the menu as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world. Your stomach swoops. Somehow, his earlier teasing no longer seems like it is a defense mechanism but an indication of something more.

               The server comes by for your drink orders. Seonghwa orders a simple coffee. When the server leaves, he leans back in his seat. Another mental image: you’re in his lap, kissing him as his hands press against your lower back. You brush it away quickly, begging your brain to control itself.

               But it is proving difficult. Seonghwa, in his chic outfit combined with his pretty features, is proving too beautiful to be around for this long. Your thighs clench at the idea of him touching you. See, this was why he had always remained a crush. You’re quickly losing control of yourself around him.

               “What are you thinking about?”

               “Nothing,” The denial rolls off your tongue too hastily, “Sorry, did I look spaced?”

               “You were staring at me.”

               “I was not.”

               Your body is hot all over. You wish he would stop looking at you like that. But then you also wish he would never stop looking at you like that. His arm is outstretched along the back of booth, one leg crossed. The position is casual, one that people sit in constantly. But on Seonghwa, there is something sensual about it. Maybe it is the way the shirt rests against his chest, those two buttons undone and winking coyly in the restaurant lighting. Or maybe it is the manner in which his other hand rests on the table, painted fingernails tapping lightly against the menu. It could even be that ribbon around his neck that is begging to be pulled on. Whatever the reason, you’re distantly aware that you are turned on just from being around him.

               The server brings the drinks over. Seonghwa leans forward, his hands curling around the warm coffee mug. You feel something brush against your leg underneath the table. With a jolt, you realize it is Seonghwa pressing his leg against yours. Your breath catches.

               Seonghwa lowers his voice to a whisper, “I only noticed because I’m staring too.”

               Then he leans back once more, blowing on his coffee to cool it off as if he isn’t flirting with you, as if he isn’t making your head spin.

               His leg remains against yours the entire meal.

                 After dinner, the walk resumes. The temperature has dropped considerably. As the two of you turn away from the main hub of the city and into the residential districts, the noise of the cars and people in the bars and restaurants begins to fade.

               At some point, Seonghwa has looped his arm around your waist to pull you close.

               “It’s cold,” He remarks while doing so even though his body feels warm enough to you, “I didn’t bring a jacket today.”

               Your brain is too muddled to speak and you opt for silence. There is something pleasant about being this close to Seonghwa, almost making you feel delirious with desire.

               Seonghwa is in the middle of telling you a story involving him and his best friend, Hongjoong, who is his roommate as well. His tone is bright, occasionally laughing as he recalls the events. You listen attentively, finding comfort in the lull and pitch of his voice.

               There is also something else that is bubbling to the surface since dinner: tension. You can feel it in the way Seonghwa held the door open for you while exiting the restaurant, the weight of his hand lightly touching the curve of your lower back when a group of people clustered the sidewalk, in every glance he shoots your way and the way you’re pulled together now. It seems absurd and too good to be true to believe the attraction is mutual but the last thing you plan to do is look good fortune in the mouth and refute it.

               You’re almost at your apartment now. Neither of you remarks that it would have technically been faster to wait for the bus once the time for dinner is included. But perhaps it was never about what was going to be quicker. Maybe it was just about finding an excuse to be around one another because it is looking as though you weren’t the only one with a bus crush.

               “It’s this way,” You say after Seonghwa finishes up the story.

               The apartment complex is two stories, unremarkable in its appearance. Your place is on the bottom floor, all the way to the right. There are no lights on which means your roommate is still too swept up in her new boyfriend. She tends to spend every weekend with him.

               Stopping in front of the door, you turn to face Seonghwa who has shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks. Are you dreaming or are his cheeks slightly pink? It could just be from the cold or it could be because he’s thinking along the same path as you.

               “Thanks for walking me home. And for dinner,” You hesitate, wondering if you’re going to take the leap. That’s typically unlike you but given the way the night has unfolded…

               “It’s no problem. Thanks for keeping me company,” Seonghwa replies.

               You swallow nervously and then go, “My roommate is gone for the weekend. She’s at her boyfriends,” The words linger in the air and you mentally push yourself off the cliff, “Do you wanna come inside?”

               Something sparks behind Seonghwa’s eyes, a look of half surprise and half desire. “Y-yeah, I’d like that. I mean, to warm up. Before I walk back home.”

               “Right, of course. It’s chilly out here,” You turn your back to him, unlocking the door and exhaling slowly.

               You can hardly believe that the week started with Seonghwa just being your crush to now standing in the living room of your tiny apartment. He looks so out of place, standing there in his stylish clothes like some sort of elegant prince as he gingerly places his bag on the coffee table.

               “Do you want something to drink?” You offer, looking to fill the silence that threatens to shift back to some sort of awkwardness.

               “Oh, some water, thanks.”

               He trails after you into the kitchen which is so small that it can barely fit both you and Seonghwa. You wonder if your nerves are evident; you’ve never invited someone in before with the expressed intention of making a move. But even though you’re good at ignoring signs that someone might be interested, it feels impossible to ignore the signals Seonghwa has given you all night.

               You turn around to hand him the glass of water which he takes a sip of. He is close enough to touch and the warmth radiating from his body is making your thoughts muddled. When Seonghwa puts the glass down carefully on the counter, he trails one finger along the rim slowly. His gaze on you is heavy and when he swallows, the ribbon bobs slightly. It’s enough to push you over the edge.

               Reaching upwards, you grab onto the ribbon, tugging on it so hard that it brings Seonghwa towards your body. He presses against you, his gasp muffled as your lips crush his. The kiss is like an electric shock in a rain shower – you can feel it from the top of your scalp to the tip of your toes. It wipes out everything that came before it: all the sneaky glances on the bus, all the times you admired his appearance, the small touch when you took your phone from him, down to the way he looked at you during dinner.

               Seonghwa’s hands wrap around your waist as the kiss deepens. He tastes faintly like coffee and the scent of his faded cologne is enough to make your head swim. The desire that you have so carefully kept locked away in all the months of admiring him threatens to topple over and spill out across all your senses, blocking rational thought.

               Seonghwa pulls away, his forehead resting against yours. His breathing has grown heavy as if the sheer force of the kiss has knocked him off kilter. You want to reassure him that the feeling is mutual but your tongue isn’t working properly.

               “Do I make you nervous?” He echoes his words from earlier, his voice barely above a whisper.

               “At first, yeah. Right now, no.” Your fingers trail down along the buttons of his shirt, feeling their coldness against your skin.

               “Why not?”

               You can feel him growing hard in his pants against your leg and your hand travels downward, grazing across the fabric. Seonghwa sharply inhales, eyes closing for a moment as you rub his cock through his pants.

               “Cuz I think we both want the same thing,” You murmur, marveling at how you’re not lying – the earlier nerves and anxieties about him have vanished in the intensity of your desire and realizing he is also interested.

               He brings his face to your neck, kissing along your skin. Each touch is as soft as a feather, making you shiver. Seonghwa nips at your neck lightly with his teeth as you press your hand down harder against his groin. He moves his lips up to your ear so he can whisper.

               “Like I said earlier, anything goes sideways, I’ll sit at the back. You won’t have to see me.”

               “Now you’re just being mean.”

               You can feel Seonghwa smile against your skin before his lips find yours again. This kiss is deeper, his tongue in your mouth while his hands slide down to grip your ass. As the kissing grows more urgent, the two of you are stumbling towards the bedroom now. Luckily, your room is right next to the kitchen, making it a quick escape into your slightly messy room.

               But if Seonghwa notices that not everything is as organized as it should be, he doesn’t seem to care. His hands are roaming across your body, each touch deadened by your clothes. The next kiss, you bite down slightly on his bottom lip which makes him groan. The sound is like music, making you want more of it, more of him.

               It wasn’t that you’re submissive in bed, it’s that you’ve been mostly alright with someone else taking the lead. But with Seonghwa, the dynamic is something new to you. Your earlier nerves have been replaced by such an overwhelming need for him that you find it easier to take charge. But Seonghwa follows without question, leading you to believe he isn’t one to take the lead to begin with. Better for you then.

               Seonghwa removes your shirt, his hands deftly unclasping your bra and tossing it to the side. He cups your tits, squeezing them in his large, warm hands. Grazing his thumbs across your nipples, he brings his face forward and flicks his tongue across them. You run your hands through his hair as he does so, sucking on each one as if his life depended on it.

               When he finally stops, he kisses you again. This time, it is messy and slightly frantic as if the desire you both feel is not being sated even with the touches between one another. You are tugging the belt off his pants impatiently. Seonghwa gets the idea and removes them swiftly, his boxers following. His cock is rock hard, precum glistening at the tip, his balls already full with cum. The sight is enough to make you drool.

               You fumble with the buttons on his shirt but its taking too long. You make a noise of impatience after one button is unclasped. Seonghwa brushes your hands away and starts to undo the buttons – but even that is too slow and he looks annoyed.

               “I should’ve thought about my outfit more today but I didn’t think that this was how the day would end,” He mumbles, slight amusement evident in his voice.

               After what feels like eternity, Seonghwa shrugs out of his shirt, not caring as it lands on the floor. Naked in front of you, it hits your brain then that you’re actually going to fuck this man, the guy you’ve been admiring for ages. You run your fingers along his taunt stomach, feeling the hard muscles underneath.

               When Seonghwa goes to remove the ribbon around his neck though, you shake your head and his hands fall. You can’t explain why you want the ribbon to stay on but you just do. There is something nice about how it looks delicately wrapped around his slender neck. Once an accent to a stylish outfit, now it seems dirty to leave it on as the only thing adorning him. Something must show on your face because Seonghwa looks a little bashful.

               You gently push on his chest, indicating to get on the bed. You want to ride him, feel him buckle underneath you as his cock fills up your cunt. Against the pillows, Seonghwa strokes his cock, watching as you remove the rest of your clothes.

               Then you crawl onto the bed, stopping to move his hand away from his cock so that you can drag your tongue along his length. He grunts softly from the sudden pleasure as you take him in your mouth. He tastes like all your fantasies did and the way he fills your mouth with his girth is pleasing. Your lips are wrapped around the head of his cock, pressing your tongue against the tip. You bring one hand to his balls to fondle them, eliciting another groan of approval from Seonghwa.

               You stop then, not because you want to, but because your need to have him balls deep in your cunt is overwhelming. Straddling him, you position his head at your entrance and take Seonghwa easily from how wet you are. He curses quietly as sink down on his cock, lost in the warmth of your hole wrapped around him. Pressing your hands against his chest, you lean forward slightly to adjust the angle and begin to move your hips.

               Bouncing on his cock, you look down at Seonghwa underneath you. He looks as pretty as ever, you think, admiring him while taking his length deep in your cunt. His cheeks are flushed, eyes hazy with desire, lips parted as he moans.

               Reaching forward, your hand curls around the ribbon, giving you something to hold onto. Seonghwa grunts in approval. The speed in which you bounce increases and with each thrust downward of your hips, you pull on the ribbon a little. This seems to drive Seonghwa wild because his eyes close tightly, his ragged gasp sounding just as pretty as he looks.

               Eventually, you can’t put off your orgasm anymore. You lean back, resting your hands on his knees to try to take him faster and harder. Your head rolls back from pleasure, moaning out Seonghwa’s name. His hips jerk upwards, his hands holding onto your waist. With him holding you steady, you bring one hand forward to rub your clit. Strange to think just a few hours ago, you were waiting to see if Seonghwa would sit next to you on the bus. Now you’re taking his cock.

               The thought combined with him buried inside you and your fingers against your clit begins your climax. Bucking your hips down to take all of Seonghwa, you cum, tightening around his girth. His fingers dig into your hips as he bites down hard on his bottom lip. You know he is trying not to cum along with you.

               Your entire body is warm and tingling from the intense orgasm but you manage to slide off Seonghwa. He doesn’t waste any time in getting on top of you, wrapping your legs around his waist and sliding back into your cunt.

               Your hands find the ribbon once again, pulling hard on it so that he kisses you again. This kiss is all drool, lust and muffled curses as Seonghwa pumps his hips, driving his cock into you hard and fast. Each movement rocks your body, your arms wrapping around his neck to draw him as close as possible. You move your hips as best as you can to meet his thrusts which are already erratic.

               “In me,” You tell him in a pleading tone, “Finish in me.”

               Seonghwa pants, picking up his speed, needing to climax. Your hands are in his hair, your body entwined with his. His full balls smack against you with every thrust, endless curse words toppling from his mouth as his orgasm quickly approaches. He is desperate to cum now, burying his face in your neck as he chases his climax.

               And then he goes still, letting out a moan that is muffled against your skin. Seonghwa shudders as he begins his orgasm, his cock spilling his cum in your hole, filling you up with its warmth, coating your walls. He is panting as he empties his balls in you. You idly play with the ribbon around his neck as he finishes until he carefully pulls out and flops onto his back.

               Between all the walking and now the sex, exhaustion tugs on your brain. It is a little past eight at night, way too early to go to bed but your body refuses to listen. As your eyelids grow heavy, the last thing you think of is that you’re going to fall asleep next to Seonghwa.

 Saturday

               You jolt awake, confused and desperately needing some water. Propping yourself up, you groggily reach for your phone only to realize it’s not on the bedside table. How long have you been sleeping? It is still dark outside.

               Something shifts in your bed. You turn to the side and see Seonghwa there, sleeping on his side, his back to you. The memory wipes all the sleep still clinging to your brain as you remember the bus breaking down, walking for ages with him, having dinner and then fucking him like crazy.

               Not wanting to wake Seonghwa up, you carefully slide out of bed, padding into the kitchen to get some water. The clock says it’s nearing one in the morning. Talk about fucking up my sleeping schedule, you think, taking note of how awake you feel.

               When you come back into the bedroom, Seonghwa is rubbing his eyes groggily, sitting up a little. He had tossed the sheet over his lower half at some point during the night, leaving just his chest exposed. The sight of him with his messy hair, looking fucked out in your bed, is enough to make your mind spin.

               “Did I wake you?”

               “No, I had been already kinda waking up when I heard you get up,” He says, accepting the glass of water when you extend it to him before getting back in bed, “What time is it?”

               “A little after one.”

               He sighs. “I’ve totally fucked up my sleeping schedule.”

               You laugh, “Well, the feeling is mutual.”

               Seonghwa finishes the entire glass, putting it on the bedside table and then turning his attention to you. The room is dark, the only light from the tiny nightlight you have near the door.

               “Well,” He says softly, “I can think of worse ways to mess up my sleeping schedule.”

               Seonghwa brings his hand to your thigh, leaning forward and kissing you. The touch is soft, as if he isn’t sure if you would still want him after fucking earlier. You return the kiss eagerly but then break it off to laugh quietly.

               “What?” He asks, looking worried.

               You reach up for the ribbon around his neck, untying it. “I just realized you still had this on.”

               Seonghwa looks sheepish. “I have to admit I’ve never utilized my fashion accessories in sex before.”

               “And what did you think?”

               “I think I need more ribbons.”

               You laugh again as Seonghwa cups your face with one hand, grazing your cheek with his thumb. He draws you in for another kiss, his other hand roaming down your body. The desire stirs and awakens with the touch, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him down as you sink back into the pillows.

  ��            Seonghwa shifts so that he is on top of you. The kiss deepens, he grows stiff against your thigh. Instinctively, you curl your legs around his waist, silently pleading for him to fuck you back to sleep. All your senses are consumed by Seonghwa; all you want is to have him inside you once again.

               But he teases you, refusing to enter right away. Instead, he moves his hips to grind his cock against your pussy while nipping at your lips with his teeth. You grow wet at the movements, your fingers digging into his skin in an attempt to urge him on.

               Your tongue is in his mouth, your body pressed against him so that you’re skin to skin, and your need for Seonghwa is overwhelming. It is like a hot current in your blood, fizzling just underneath the surface. And just when you think you’re going to crack and beg, Seonghwa enters in one swift motion, filling you up just how you need.

               Your moans topple into his mouth as he rocks his hips a little, just enough to hear how wet you are wrapped around his length. Then he untangles himself from you, bringing your feet to rest on his shoulders as he picks up his pace. His hips jerk hard, driving his cock all the way inside your cunt. The angle somehow feels better than fucking him earlier did.

               And Seonghwa looks good, his hair a sleepy mess, moaning and cursing, skin slightly flushed. You like the way his slender waist moves as he fucks you, his pumps steady and increasing speed as the pleasure grows. He brings one hand down and pinches your nipple, switching to the other one when your moan lets him know you like it before grabbing your tits in both hands and squeezing them.

               Seonghwa doesn’t stop fucking you. Even though it is late and you should keep in mind your neighbor is trying to sleep, the two of you are making too much noise. Each jerk of his hips slaps his balls against your skin, Seonghwa cursing when it feels too good, mixing with your own loud moans.

               He leans forward then, his hands next to each side of your head, and your legs falling back around his waist. He doesn’t slow his pace, his tongue poking out from in between his plush lips as he fucks your cunt. You lean forward, your mouth crushing his. Seonghwa is practically drooling and the kiss is messy, a strand of spit connecting your mouths when it ends.

               He shivers, his eyes closing tightly as his orgasm draws near. You urge him to cum, tell him how much you want to feel him unload in you again and the words push him over the edge. Seonghwa grunts, thrusting one final time as he finishes in your tight hole. For the second time in a few hours, he fills your cunt up with his load. Somehow, there is even more than before and when he pulls out, you can feel it leaking from your cunt.

               Seonghwa doesn’t say anything but he moves downward, grabbing your hips as he buries his face in between your thighs. He holds your hips downward so that your pussy is against his face. His tongue begins to rapidly flick across your swollen clit. The pleasure is sudden and intense. Your hand goes to his hair for something to hold onto, your other hand gripping the bed sheets. Seonghwa doesn’t stop and the sounds of him slurping and sucking on your clit are pornographic. You are still filled with his cum as he does so and that somehow makes it hotter.

               It doesn’t take long to bring you to the peak. Your climax is intense and you wiggle underneath him. Your pussy grinds against his face and Seonghwa makes noises of pleasure, not stopping his expert licking of your clit. Your entire body tingles from the orgasm until you fall back onto the bed, breathless from how good it felt.

               It is then Seonghwa pulls away, his pretty face covered in his own cum and yours. You are in a tired lump on the bed, eyes closing as you hear him pad out of the room to clean up. By the time he comes back, you’re already half asleep.

               Seonghwa wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you towards him gently. The touches are soft and gentle, and you relax into him. Your last thought is one of happiness that the bus broke down, leading you down this road with him. Now, everyday at the bus stop, he will be yours.

the end.

[amvpk01]

PATHETIC YANDERE

unwanted obsession

when obsession goes beyond admiration, it turns into repulsion and the search for love becomes a path of rejection.

cw: f!reader, non-con, obsession, rejection, violence, stalking, humiliation, kidnapping, manipulation, murder

masterlist || next

Can you imagine someone who is completely useless at everything they do? There's no such thing as good grades, good looks, popularity, or even a good personality. He was a complete shit and he knew it.

It was just another day of him going to school, doing assignments that most of the time the teacher would point out were wrong just to embarrass him in front of the class or that the handwriting was illegible, talking to his pathetic friends just like him, buying something in the canteen and sitting on the benches to eat and look around judging the people.

It was Thursday so it was more crowded than the other days, some familiar faces and others not so much, but someone on the other side of the courtyard surprised him.

A girl with h/c hair and e/c eyes, a pretty face, and a sexy body.

He wondered how someone as beautiful and charming as that could exist. Were you new to the school or did he just not notice you before?

"-Are you there? Dude?? Hello?! Are you listening to me you piece-"

"Calm down bro-"

"Her name?" He interrupted his friends.

"Uh- Who?"

"Pink shirt." The friends looked at the aforementioned girl.

"Don't know, but Giovanna's talking to her, maybe you can ask?"

"...I thought I'd die before I saw you like a girl!"

"Quiet! So fucking noisy. What if she heard you?!"

"Don't worry. It's just that it always crossed my mind that you would be... you know, gay?"

He didn't mind the homophobic comments or the pats on the back along with the laughter of his friends. All that went through his mind was how he was going to get close to you.

You couldn't help but admire your purple nails that matched your fit. It was already a habit of yours to match clothes along with accessories and painted nails. No matter the occasion, you'll ALWAYS be pretty and stylish.

"[Name]?" You looked in the direction of the voice.

"Hi, Gigi! You good?" Noticing her face made you worried. "What's wrong?"

"Well, do you know about some guy who texted you yesterday?"

"Huh, no? All my notifications are off."

"Looks like some guy from my class keeps saying you're ghosting him on DM."

"Oh. My bad, it was not my intention. I think I'll see about that later." You wondered what that guy wanted to talk about. Maybe was someone you already know?

He couldn't believe it that you didn't block him. He thought you had ghosted him but it was just a misunderstanding?!?

'Thanks God... Now I need to talk with her.'

It's been a few weeks since he had the courage and ask you to talk. Every day you exchanged greetings and had long talks that were mostly started by him. You tried to find him attractive or like his personality but nothing worked. Maybe because you already knew his intentions?

But there's something that has been bothering you. Maybe it's just your mind trying to delude you but you swear that someone's stalking you.

And your instinct is telling you that's him even though you don't have proof. You did see a lot of pictures of you on his phone but didn't think he would start to follow you on your way home.

So today you're gonna find out if it's him or not!

You made your usual way home, but you diverted your path to another street that had more shops. Your stalker follows behind you, his face all covered by a stupid black mask and sunglasses.

Maybe you should enter the first shop that you see to know if he would enter too?

Without wasting time, you run into a lingerie store and try to hide further into the store. The stranger only realized the type of store when he put one foot inside, his covered face flushed with embarrassment, and then decided to wait for you outside.

'Damnit! He didn't enter?!' Your thoughts were pure anger and disappointment but vanished when some lady came asking for what type of lingerie you were searching for. Then you got why he didn't.

'NO. NO. NO. NO. JUST NO. DON'T TELL ME SHE'S BUYING LINGERIE TO USE WITH SOMEONE ELSE! SHE SAID SHE HAD NO BOYFRIEND. BUT WHAT IF SHE'S SEEING SOMEONE?!?' He started hyperventilating and his disguise was only making his breathing worse.

After waiting 5 minutes, you come out with a bag in your hands and then speed up your walk. He couldn't lose you from his sight. In his point of view, he was protecting you.

You surely have been running fast, are you embarrassed by someone seeing you in this type of store?

FUCK, DID HE JUST LOST YOU?!??

Surely he saw you walking around that corner-

Oh no...

It feels like you're leaning against the wall just waiting for him. In a fast move, you pulled away his mask. Not being able to hide your disgusted face.

"...What the fuck?"

"Wait- I-I can explain!! It's j-just a misunderstanding! I s-swear! Please, let me-"

"...That's so fucking creepy dude...

If I knew you were like this, I would just ignore you from the start...

Maybe I shouldn't listen to my friends."

He was disturbed that he didn't mind you running away from that place. How could he be so dumb to fall for such a trick? Now, you won't ever talk to him again. Just the fact that he scared you hurt him so much.

You were so kind and pure to him like an angel, and he felt like a demon knowing that you would never want to see him again.

A week has passed since the incident, and he hasn't gone to school, much less left the house. He didn't dare to even see you. Your disgusted face was already haunting him but there's something that he didn't notice before.

'Maybe I shouldn't listen to my friends.'

What did you mean by that? Did your friends tell you about him or something? His phone was getting many notifications, then he decided to pick it up.

A party? Seriously? He wasn't in the mood for this, but locking himself in his home isn't going to make anything better.

He hopes that you go too so he can apologize for his past behavior.

In his own way.

You were relieved, there was no sight of him in school. Mostly like he was who was hiding and not you. You didn't know if he ever felt sorry, after all, you blocked him from everything leaving him with no opportunity to speak and you didn't see him everywhere. Thanks God.

But nothing more than a wonderful party to raise your mood.

If you only know what would happen after this.

part 2 (in progress)

[danadaria]

The Words Between Us

@steddiebang2024 Project #095 Posting on October 02, 2024

Author: @DanaDaria l Artist: @cemeterylight | Beta: @altbadumm

Summary:

Eddie discovered he was in love with Steve Harrington years after he lost contact with him. It's fine, that’s just life. 

But all he needed was a postcard, a couple of letters, and some calls to fall for him again.

And magazines. Don’t forget the magazines; after all, that started it all.

↳ Keep reading below for a sneak peek!

The elevator stopped at floor 20, opening the doors to a lively place. 

The first thing he saw was “BEGINNERS MAGAZINE” in silver letters attached to a wall. He walked a little and then arrived at the open floor.

Pretty and stylish people were all around the room, some at their desks writing on their computers and others screaming on the phone. Some girls with robes and hair rollers were lounging around and some kind of assistants ran with their binders across the room. 

“Excuse me” 

Eddie stepped aside to let pass two giant clothes racks. So many clothes.

“Hi darling. Are you here for the photoshoot?” Behind the front desk an older woman who looked like Cher, smiled at him. “Because if that’s the case, let me tell you, you’re awfully late.” 

C’mon Eddie. You got this. Confidence. 

Eddie took a deep breath, stood up straight and gave her his most charming smile.

“Actually, no. I’m Eddie, and I’m here for the interview for Beginner’s new section.” 

“The new sec- Oh! Eddie, darling, you're awfully early. That’s next week”

“Yes, of course…” he continued smiling beatifically. 

Wait. 

“What?!” 

“Yes. Check my agenda.” Secretary-Cher raised a desk agenda that stated clearly and brightly in the month of June: “MON 4th, boys interviews 10am - 2pm” 

Eddie felt how the smile in his face became strained. This was bad. 

“I’m so stupid” he muttered, covering his face with his hands.

“Oh, sweetie, don’t beat yourself, it happens all the time.” 

“Really?”

Desk-Cher laughed hard, but looked at him with tenderness “No, sorry, but I wanted to make you feel better.”

Fuck his luck. This was so embarrassing. You can bet Eddie is not going to put a foot in this place again. Interview be damned. 

“Hey, Jules. Have you seen Luca? The bastard said he forgot his sunglasses on his car, and he’s not on the set yet.” A black man with pink pants and a golden shirt arrived. 

“If Anna it’s not on set, she’s doing her. If she’s there, then he’s doing some dust.” The secretary said sincerely. 

The man looked so done. 

“These brats, they never learn.” The man, then, noticed Eddie's presence. “If you’re here for the photoshoot, you are late.”

“Harry, no. This poor thing is early!”

“Early? Early for what?” 

“He mismatched dates and came a week early for the boy’s interview!” Jules said cheerfully.

Now the man’s gaze was full on Eddie. Judging his black jeans, his boots, and his jacket. Which, hey, it was a clean denim jacket, but you never know with rich people.

No. Eddie needed to get out of that place immediately. 

“Yeah. Don’t mind me, I’m heading out. And I’m going to be honest, I don’t think I’ll show my face in this place again, so you can reschedule the 12:30 slot.” Eddie’s instincts said he should shrink and run. 

And yes, this was an awfully embarrassing experience to start the week, but at least, he was going to leave the place with dignity.

“If you excuse me, Lady Jules and Lord Henry, this jester is going to abandon the palace.” Well, dignity under Eddie’s standards. 

Eddie turned around to leave the office when he heard:

“Kid, are you free for the day? If you can hold a pose and pretend to be a heartbreaker, you got a job for a day, and I can interview you at makeup.”

Eddie looked surprised at the man. He looked intimidating, but he could see it in his face… he wasn’t joking. He wasn’t joking.  

Eddie smiled wild. “I’m Eddie and I’m your man.” 

“I’m Harry. C’mon, this way.” The man took Eddie by the shoulder and started to guide him to the depths of the office. “If Luca arrives, tell him he can come back in 1997!” 

Julia gave her a military salute with her hand, but the man just rolled his eyes at her antics. 

“Hey, I’m not going to say I don’t appreciate the turn of events, but on a scale of 1 to 10, how heartbreaker do I need to look? Because I’m not going to lie, I’m super bad at that. 

The man snorted. 

“My gaydar can recognize other fairies in a fifty mile radius. Even if they are court jesters. That’s why I said pretend, kid”

“Oh” Eddie was speechless. It was the first time outside bars and clubs where a stranger admitted being gay to him. It felt weirdly empowering “Okay.” He smiled at the older man. “I can do that.” 

C’mon Eddie. You got this. Confidence.

[quotergirl19]

I like the way the show is repurposing of a few of Penelope’s dresses from previous seasons, I expect the beginning of Penelope’s glow up is going to be that she simply stops wearing things that made her feel unattractive or ridiculous, as a way to boost her confidence.

Madame Delacroix did tell Penelope that a lady would never wear something that made her look ugly and we know Portia has only allowed Penelope a small number of dresses that weren’t yellow or that were more figure flattering.

So far we know that the green dress Penelope wore while visiting Marina and asking how she became with child is being repurposed:

And that loud, tacky floral spencer she wore over a pink dress season 1 is reused over a yellow dress in season 3.

Penelope will also eliminate excessive accessories like her hair bows.

She may continue her gradual glow up by repurposing some of her other more flattering dresses like these:

Which will lead up to her taking full control of her wardrobe and ending up in far more beautiful and stylish ensembles like this:

Do you have a favorite dress you’re hoping Penelope will repurpose?

[stardust-swan]

Can you explain who Lalla Malika is? When I googled the only thing that came up were articles about a princess with the same name

Lalla Malika is a Moroccan jinniyya (female djinn, or genie in English). She's the daughter of a King of Djinn and a patroness of beauty and luxury. According to some legends, she was a human princess once upon a time. She speaks French, loves perfume, fine clothes (especially multicoloured with gold embroidery), cosmetics, and the colours pink and purple. Her name literally means "Lady Queen."

She expects her followers to be well-groomed and stylish. Both female and male devotees are held to the same high standard of elegance - men must be clean shaven, wear new clothes and fine cologne. It's not a problem if you can't afford fine cologne - if you keep her in luxurious offerings, she'll provide economically for you. She also provides in other ways, being particularly well-known for keeping devotees out of prison.

She is a benevolent figure. Although she's powerful enough to do so, she never engages in attacks, instead choosing to withdraw her presence, leaving a void where there was once joy.

As well as beauty and luxury, she is also famous for being joyful. It's said that if groups of women giggle, it's because of Lalla Malika's presence.

She seems to be a bit of a Francophile. She speaks French, and some believe French is the only language she knows. If you want to build a relationship with her I would recommend speaking French to her, writing a letter or note to her in French, or trying to learn the language.

She is very flirtatious, sexually free, and loves handsome, charming, fun, well-groomed men - especially if they're married. She engages in sacred marriages and requires any man she's engaged to who's already married to get permission to continue relations with their wives or other women.

She manifests as a happy spirit who signals her presence by tickling people and brings joy with her. Her presence is also said to inspire romantic feelings and sexual attraction. She looks like a very beautiful woman wearing clothes embroidered in gold thread. Her hair sometimes appears long and sometimes appears short. Her favourite music is Gnawa - the Gnawa brotherhood do rituals to summon her, as do the Jilala brotherhood.

She lives in closets and armoires, and it's recommended to build a shrine to her inside of a wardrobe (which you fill up with fine garments, of course). I think a stylish dressing table could work if you have no wardrobe space though. Or why not dedicate a whole bedroom filled with beautiful things?

She loves henna. She prefers tree-fill henna over dot-fill designs, and is particularly associated with Fassi style henna, but any delicate style of henna that showcases the artist's skill and is delightful to the eye is adequate, especially if it's floral.

Her favourite colours are pink, purple, mauve and violet. Her favourite scents are sandalwood and oud. She loves loves loves perfume and perfume is a traditionally recommended offering to her, as well as luxurious, multi-coloured garments, henna, candles, and burning sandalwood. Other offerings I think (purely my personal opinions, not based in tradition) that she likes based on her love of beauty, luxury and decadence are fancy soaps (especially sandalwood or soaps coloured pink/purple), pretty jewellery, hair ornaments, fine and delicate sweets like chocolate, marzipan fruits, stuffed medjool dates, and petits fours, silk scarves, champagne, French and Moroccan pastries, cosmetics (especially luxury French makeup and traditional Moroccan bath products), flowers in her favourite colours, incense and candles in her favourite scents and colours, Moroccan style hand mirrors and trinket boxes, stones in her favourite colours like rose quartz, amethysts and pink opals, and luxurious, delicate fruits like champagne grapes, chocolate dipped strawberries, medjool dates, stuffed figs or apricots, caramelised apple slices (perhaps dipped in chocolate or nuts), fruit truffles, and candied fruits.

Things you can do to feel closer to her are: playing gnawa music (this performance on YouTube is in honour of her, there is actually quite a bit of devotional music dedicated to her on YouTube and Spotify), lighting sandalwood or agarwood (oud) incense or bakhour, speaking or learning French, organising your wardrobe, washing with sandalwood soap, making sure you are well groomed, wearing stylish outfits (complete with jewellery and makeup), getting henna done in delicate, intricate, beautiful styles, wearing clothes, jewellery or accessories in her favourite colours, multicoloured or with gold embroidery, and spritzing perfume.

She is a benevolent djinn who loves spreading joy and doesn't attack, so she likely wouldn't mind sharing altar space with another deity. She has high standards and expects beauty and elegance though, so make sure to make her altar beautiful and clean, offering new treats regularly.

Invoke Lalla Malika if you want to seduce, wow and captivate people, or want luxury and pretty things in your life ✨💗🩷💜

[silverynight]

Hmm, something mundane and wholesome for Tanjiro in the Modern AUs?

Our burgundy long haired protagonist volunteers to have his hair styled and even fit with accessories from some lady friends like Mitsuri, Shinobu and Kanao?

After a couple of snapshots and stuff, they squeal at how wonderful he looks in the butterfly clips.

The guys walk into the room hearing the noise and weren’t expecting a stylish looking Tanjiro wearing those. Their hearts freeze up or beat faster, seeing that he looks more girly and pretty.

Tanjiro asks if they are sick or smth because each of their faces are pink to red.

The ladies facepalm or laugh lightheartedly.

They laugh because they already spent time making him pretty and they're amused by the male Pillars' reactions, but they understand them completely.

Tanjirou is too beautiful for his own good and if it was them seeing him for the first time without having an idea of how devastatingly gorgeous he'd end up looking, they would have acted just the same as the others.

[mercillery]

Would you be opposed to writing for silly Kirschie? The Vermillion flower boy grew on me 🌸 (relationship overview?)

WARNINGS: GENDER NOT SPECIFIED + NOT PROOFREAD

NOTES: My life changed in 92722928 different ways when I found out he existed. Sorry this took so long, anon. ❤️‍🩹

From the moment he realizes he's in love with you, buckle up—you're about to be placed on a pedestal so high, even a magic knight would struggle to reach it. Kirsch isn’t just falling in love; he’s having a whole opera performed in his head about how you, the most divine being to ever exist, were handcrafted by angels of heaven themselves purely as a reward for him. It’s like he believes the heavens saw how gorgeous he was and decided, "You know what? Let’s give him someone who’s equally perfect." He’ll shower you with compliments so extravagant, even the word “flattery” would feel modest. It’s like living in a Shakespearean play where the soliloquies never stop—and they're all about how radiant you are.

And just when you think it’s impossible for him to love anything more than his own reflection, guess what? He proves you wrong. Sure, he’ll talk about his own beauty—it’s Kirsch, after all—but he’s just as obsessed with promoting your looks. In fact, he might be too busy singing your praises to even get through a sentence about himself. Think of it this way: if Kirsch is the president of his own fan club, you’re the vice president—except he’s trying to hand over the entire operation to you because in his eyes, you’re the real star.

Every little action you take is glorified like you’re performing on a royal stage, and Kirsch is your most dedicated and vocal audience member. You could be doing something as simple as picking a flower, and suddenly it’s as if you’re creating a masterpiece worthy of a gallery exhibit. Kirsch will dramatically place a hand over his heart, swooning, and launch into a full-on poetic monologue about how “only the most delicate hands could possibly pluck nature’s finest creation with such grace!” It’s like living with your own personal hype man who’s constantly stuck in an emotional art film.

You could be doing something very simple as tying your shoe, and he’d still manage to make it sound like you’re unraveling the mysteries of the universe with unparalleled elegance. “The way you loop those laces… such precision! Such finesse! I’ve never witnessed anything so perfectly executed.” It’s hard to ever feel mundane or average when Kirsch is around because, to him, you’re not just special—you’re a walking masterpiece of elegance and grace, even when you’re just, you know, pouring a glass of water.

Kirsch spares no expense when it comes to showering you with luxurious gifts—it’s basically his love language, except it’s less about words and more about drowning you in pink roses and glittering jewels. Expect hand-picked bouquets that look like they were arranged by angels themselves (or, more accurately, arranged to match his aesthetic), ornate jewelry that would make royalty jealous, and customized clothing that screams opulence. He’ll insist that only the finest silks and rarest gems should even dare touch your skin, and honestly, he’s not taking "no" for an answer. If you thought you could casually slip out of the house in a simple outfit to run errands, think again.

This man will have you looking like you’re about to walk the runway—even if you're just going to the corner store for some milk. It’s like living in that one meme: “Bye, I’m going to [insert mundane place here]!” and then the other person says, “Not dressed like that you aren’t young lady!” And then the other person who was leaving changes into way more stylish clothing, to which the other person says “Yesss queen slayyy!!” Like, that meme is your relationship in a nutshell—any time you leave the house, there’s a full-on wardrobe transformation sequence where Kirsch has you dazzling like the spotlight was meant just for you. If you don’t get the reference, I’ll leave the meme at the very bottom of this post lol.

Also, after Kirsch is done, it’s not just you stealing the spotlight—you’re taking the whole stage. You’re over there trying to buy groceries, and suddenly people are stopping mid-aisle, jaws dropping, as if you’re about to give an acceptance speech for “Best Dressed at the Supermarket.”

He’s quite literally the epitome of romanticism, the guy who watched one too many telenovelas and said, “Challenge accepted.” He’s like those super-dramatic, lovestruck characters you see in Spanish soap operas—the ones who stand in the rain delivering heartfelt speeches while violins play in the background—except, well… it’s Kirsch, and he’s probably not going to get his hair wet. But honestly? It’s so Kirsch to be that extra. One speech from him and you’re already a flustered, blushing mess. It’s like he’s got this magical power to turn even the most casual compliments into an event. “Your eyes, my love—they sparkle brighter than the heavens themselves!” Cue the swooning.

But oh, it doesn’t stop there. Kirsch is the guy who writes you long, poetic love letters that read like something from the Romantic Era—and we’re talking full-on sonnets. There’s probably at least one mention of you being the moon to his sun, the stars in his sky, or something equally dramatic. He’ll hand-deliver it to you with a flourish, as if he’s presenting you with the Holy Grail.

And if you think that’s over the top, just wait for the serenades. He’ll burst into a room or most likely a public space and then dramatically place a hand on his chest, and declare his love as if he’s performing for an audience. He’s got metaphors comparing your beauty to the brilliance of nature, the stars, the sun, and whatever else sounds poetic in the moment. Honestly, at this point, you might be wondering if Shakespeare himself reincarnated as Kirsch Vermillion just to write you flowery declarations of love. Actually, scratch that—Shakespeare has NOTHING on Kirsch. 🤞

Kirsch’s vanity is the stuff of legends—everyone knows it, and if you didn’t before, you will once you’re in a relationship with him. His confidence is so big, it practically has its own gravitational pull, and yes, it’s going to extend into your relationship in the most hilariously Kirsch-like ways. He’ll often look at you with that dazzling smile of his and say, “My love, how fortunate you are to be with someone as magnificent as me!” But don’t worry—he’s not just here to inflate his own ego. Oh no, Kirsch is very generous when it comes to dishing out compliments. He’ll stroke both your egos at once, like some kind of mutual admiration society where you’re the president, and he’s the very enthusiastic vice president…

Obviously his ego is absolutely massive, but as his partner, you’ll never feel left out. Kirsch will make sure you know that while he is obviously perfection, you’re right there with him at the top. “Together, we are the Clover Kingdom’s most beautiful couple,” he’ll say, with complete sincerity, as if it’s a universally accepted fact. He genuinely believes that when people see the two of you, they stop in awe, blinded by the sheer radiance of your combined beauty. If there ever was a "Most Beautiful Couple" contest in the Clover Kingdom, you’d better believe Kirsch is signing you both up and personally ensuring that you win first place. Just don’t be surprised if he asks you to practice your “winning couple’s wave” in front of a mirror—you know, for when you accept the award you’ve already won in his mind.

The only real downside I can think of when it comes to dating Kirsch is his self-obsession. I know I just said he’s great at praising both himself and you, but let’s be honest—his self-love can be a bit… much. It’s the kind of thing that could make anyone, even you, feel like you’re dating a walking, talking mirror. His obsession with his own beauty can be borderline unbearable at times, but that’s where you come in! As his partner, you’ve basically become a pro at balancing things out—playfully stroking his ego to keep him smiling, but also grounding him when he starts floating off into the stratosphere of his own vanity.

And surprisingly? Kirsch really values your opinion. Sure, he’s as arrogant as they come, but if you point out something he needs to work on, he’ll listen—though maybe with a reluctant sigh or two, and definitely after a couple of gentle nudges. It’s like he’s internally grappling with the idea that there’s even the slightest thing about him that could improve. But because it’s coming from you, he’ll eventually try to make an effort. Just don’t expect a miracle overnight—Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither was Kirsch’s ego.

That being said, he’s always seeking your validation, constantly fishing for compliments like it’s his favorite hobby. You’ll often catch him asking, “Am I not the most handsome nobleman in the land?” And now, you have two options: humor him and bask in his beaming smile as he revels in your agreement, or find a playful way to respond while reminding him not to get too carried away. Maybe something like, “Yes, dear, but let’s not forget that modesty is also a virtue,” or “Of course you are, but you know, some of us are trying to look good too!” Either way, you’ve become the master at handling his vanity without letting it completely take over—keeping him in check while still letting him feel like the nobleman he so deeply believes he is. <3

Kirsch’s affection is like a hurricane of love—you’re constantly in the eye of the storm, surrounded by his attention, compliments, and a never-ending desire to be near you. He’ll find any excuse to touch you, whether it’s holding hands, brushing a strand of hair from your face, or simply sitting as close as humanly possible, just so you’re both basking in his glorious presence—oh, and yours too, of course. He’ll make sure you’re soaking in all the benefits of being with him, but not without returning the favor by idolizing you in the process. However, it can get a little intense, especially when Kirsch starts micromanaging your appearance in the name of "enhancing your perfection" or, even better, "shielding you from corruption," as if you’re about to be swayed by the forces of darkness just because one single piece of hair of yours is out of place. Yeah, he’s weird like that—but you love him anyway.

Sometimes, his overwhelming need to pamper you and monitor every little detail of your look can feel like you’re being smothered in pink velvet and rose petals—luxurious, but a little too much when all you wanted was a cozy shirt and pants kind of day. He’s that guy who will lovingly remind you that “a queen must always look the part,” even when all you’re doing is sitting on the couch for movie night. Sure, it’s Kirsch’s way of showing his love, but you may find yourself playfully wrestling the brush or mirror that he magically just spawned out of his hands every now and then.

If anyone even thinks about insulting or offending you, brace yourself—Kirsch’s attitude will switch faster than you can say “noble fury.” One minute he’s all smiles, the next, he’s making it his personal mission to obliterate whoever dared to sully your perfect image. And let’s be real, he’s not going to handle it quietly. Oh no, Kirsch will make sure everyone in a 10-mile radius knows just how deeply offended he is on your behalf. Expect a grand, dramatic scene that could rival any Clover Kingdom festival—he’ll probably stand up straight, flick his hair back, and give the most dramatic speech known to mankind.

Kirsch has no chill when it comes to defending your honor. It’s as if someone insulting you is the same as insulting him, and honestly, in his mind, it kind of is. You, his flawless partner, are an extension of his beauty, his life’s masterpiece, and if anyone dares to tarnish that image? Oh, they’re going to regret it. And I’m talking big time regret. He might throw in some lines about how they’ve dishonored the very concept of perfection, or that their words have caused irreparable damage to his delicate heart all the while clutching his chest like a damsel in distress. You’d think they insulted his reflection, not yours, with how over-the-top his reaction is.

In Kirsch’s eyes, an insult to you is an attack on everything—his pride, his love, his very existence. He’ll dramatically lament how this heinous act has affected his life in 927292179172 different ways, acting like this insult has personally struck him down. "How dare they! They have brought ruin upon us both!" And while, yes, the offense was aimed at you, it’s clear that the real victim here in Kirsch’s world, is him. Because anything that causes you distress ultimately causes him distress—and that simply cannot stand.

Kirsch has this innate drive to be the best, not just as a Magic Knight but also as your partner. He’s got a little scoreboard in his head, constantly comparing himself to others—even if they don’t know they’re in the competition—and always seeking your reassurance that he’s the best person for you. If he senses anyone might be trying to get your attention, even in the slightest, his competitive streak flares up like a wildfire.

But don’t expect Kirsch to get jealous in that quiet, brooding, “staring out the window dramatically” kind of way. No, Kirsch’s jealousy is far more... theatrical. Instead of sulking, he goes all in on proving that he’s the most elegant, refined, and capable man in your life. Picture him suddenly giving you a demonstration of his magic, casting the most intricate, glittering spell just to remind you how unmatched his beauty and skill are. Even if all you did was casually mention another Magic Knight in passing—“Oh, Finral was really helpful today”—Kirsch will immediately launch into a soliloquy about how they pale in comparison to his grace, his magic, and of course, his irresistible beauty.

He’ll say something like, “Ah, yes, Finral is skilled in his own... humble way. But does he possess the same elegance? The refined flair that only a nobleman such as myself could master? I think not!” And then he’ll probably strike some ridiculous, over-the-top pose as if he's modeling for a portrait. The funny part is that Kirsch is dead serious. He genuinely believes that nobody could possibly compare to him—and that includes everyone from your best friends to the Clover Kingdom’s most powerful Magic Knights. In his mind, he’s already won the “Most Perfect Partner” contest, but just in case you forgot, he’ll spend every waking moment reminding you of it.

As a noble, Kirsch takes his role with the utmost seriousness. He treats nobility like it’s an Olympic sport—and spoiler alert: he’s going for gold. Naturally, he wants you to be right there beside him, shining just as bright. So brace yourself, because he may or may not push you toward his ideal of refinement. You might be thinking, "What does that even mean?" Well, it means Kirsch is going to turn every casual moment into an impromptu finishing school lesson.

If your posture isn’t perfectly regal, don’t worry—Kirsch will swoop in to correct it with the finesse of someone adjusting a priceless vase. He’ll insist on teaching you courtly manners, giving little pointers on the best etiquette for high-society events. “No, no, darling, you must tilt your chin slightly more, like this. It’s all about grace!” It’s exhausting, yes, but Kirsch doesn’t do this to be condescending—he genuinely wants the two of you to be seen as the ultimate power couple, the absolute pinnacle of nobility. It’s like he’s on a personal mission to make sure when people talk about perfect couples, your names are at the top of the list with a spotlight and confetti.

And if you thought date night meant a quiet evening at home, think again. You’ll be expected to attend an endless stream of noble functions and events with him. Kirsch practically lives for these occasions, where he can parade you around in front of high society, beaming with pride. It’s like a red-carpet event every time. He’ll make sure everyone knows just how perfect and enviable your relationship is, always throwing in a few dramatic flourishes. “Isn’t my partner just the embodiment of grace and elegance?” he’ll say, loudly enough for the whole room to hear. Meanwhile, you’re standing there, trying not to not fall under pressure by how many eyes are set on you.

But here’s the thing—Kirsch can sometimes get a little too carried away. In his quest to maintain this flawless image, he might become overly picky or controlling, especially when it comes to appearances. Did you put the wrong fork on the wrong side of the plate at dinner? Oh no, here comes a mini lesson on the "true art" of table setting. It's not that he means to be overbearing, but sometimes his obsession with perfection takes the wheel, and suddenly you’re in a crash course for “How to Be a Noble 101.”

But that’s where you come in. You’re the only one who knows how to rein him in when he gets a bit too intense. With a playful nudge or a well-timed eye roll, you remind him that love is about more than just appearances. It’s about the two of you enjoying each other’s company, not putting on a show for everyone else. And despite his dramatic tendencies, Kirsch listens to you. He values your input, and even though it might take a little while for him to fully realize it, he does eventually see that his obsession with perfection isn’t what keeps your relationship strong—it’s the genuine love you share. And who knows, maybe you’ll get him to relax a little at the next noble event. Well, okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

For all his flair, dramatic speeches, and parade-worthy personality, Kirsch has a softer, more genuine side—one he saves just for you. Behind all the extravagance, there’s a tenderness that only comes out when it’s just the two of you. He loves running his fingers through your hair, each stroke so gentle and caring, it’s almost a surprise that this is the same Kirsch who acts like he’s starring in a romantic drama 24/7. His usual flamboyant energy takes a backseat to real, intimate affection, and you start to see a different side of him. This isn’t the Kirsch who’s commanding attention in a crowded ballroom or waxing poetic about his own reflection. This is the Kirsch who’s just…in love, quietly and sincerely.

And speaking of poetic, he’s surprisingly good at that too. Sure, his public displays of affection are often grandiose and over-the-top, but in these softer moments, he’s unexpectedly deep. He’ll share his thoughts with you about beauty, nature, and the way you make him feel, speaking with a calm, almost philosophical tone. He’s the type to sit beside you, gaze out at the stars, and talk about how the brilliance of the cosmos could never compare to your radiance. Yes, it sounds a little like something you’d find in a romance novel, but trust me—it’s the sincerity in his voice that makes it work. These are the moments where he’s not just admiring your outward beauty, but the deeper connection the two of you share, which is saying a lot for someone as obsessed with appearances as Kirsch.

When the night winds down, you’ll often find Kirsch falling asleep beside you, his arms wrapped around you in a protective yet tender embrace. It’s as if he never wants to let go, like holding you close is the only thing keeping him grounded. It’s here, in these quieter times, that you catch a glimpse of the real Kirsch—the man behind the glamour. The one who just wants to love and be loved, without the pomp, without the flair, without the need to constantly put on a show for the world. In these moments, all the outward bravado melts away, and you’re left with someone who, deep down, just wants to make sure you feel as cherished as he does. And despite all the showmanship, this side of him, this softer side, is just as real and just as beautiful.

Here’s the meme I was talking about. I couldn’t find the original one. Oops.

[pregnant-sissy-abdl]

INVITATION TO PREGNANCY

Chapter 1: Mystery shopping

As the first trimester of my wife's pregnancy unfolded, subtle yet significant changes began to grace her body. The beginnings of a baby bump emerged, a gentle reminder of the life growing within her. While the anticipation and excitement of welcoming a child filled our hearts, my wife couldn't help but feel a twinge of dissatisfaction with the changes she experienced.  For example, her once-favourite clothes, which now clung too snugly, served as a poignant reminder that her body was transforming. Also she was feeling that her everyday life is now fully changing, while I just go on living with my usual daily stuff.

One evening, as we sat together on the couch, my wife turned to me with a sparkle in her eyes. She had a mischievous grin on her face, and I knew something was brewing in her mind.

“You know how I have been a little unhappy lately? Now I have an idea how to fix it," she said, her voice filled with excitement. "I want to find a way for you to participate more in this pregnancy." My curiosity piqued, I leaned closer to her, eager to hear her plan. She reached for my hand, intertwining her fingers with mine. "I thought we could start by having you join me for doctor's appointments," she suggested. "It would mean the world to me to have your support during those important moments."

Of course I wanted her to know that she is not alone, so I nodded somewhat eagerly. "Of course, honey," I replied, "I want to be there with you every step of the way, from the doctor's office to the delivery room.”

She beamed at my response, her eyes shimmering with appreciation. Her next idea came immediately after: “And what about attending birthing classes together?" she proposed. "We can learn about the process together, ask questions, and prepare ourselves as a team." I nodded a bit less eagerly, but still promising to participate. Anything to make her happy.

After a few weeks, I had come a long way in my involvement during the pregnancy. However, it seemed that my wife was still not perfectly happy and was probably expecting even more from me. In the following days, she gently approached the subject, and suggested we visit a maternity clothing shop together.

Confusion momentarily clouded my mind. What could my presence in a ladies’ clothing shop possibly contribute to her well-being during the pregnancy? But I quickly dismissed my skepticism, realising that I just need to play along to keep her satisfied. Maybe this all was just due to the pregnancy hormones, and everything would be back to normal in less than nine months. “Anything to make her happy”, I thought once again.

Next morning, stepping into the maternity clothes shop, I was immediately taken aback by the vibrant colors and stylish displays that greeted me. Gone were my preconceived notions of dull and shapeless garments. Instead, I discovered a treasure trove of beautiful and fashionable attire specially designed for pregnant women. As I perused the racks, my eyes widened with surprise and delight. Not only were there elegant dresses and chic tops, but I also stumbled upon a section dedicated to maternity lingerie. I couldn't help but be amazed at how they managed to create such alluring and sexy undergarments that accentuated the natural beauty of pregnant women.

My wife urged me to choose outfits that I thought she would look stunning in. Puzzled but willing to embrace this opportunity, I started selecting a few outfits that caught my eye. I considered her style, comfort, and the delicate balance between fashion and functionality.  Imagining her radiant in the chosen pieces, I collected a variety of dresses, tops, several pairs of maternity jeans and shiny leggings, and even some pink lingerie.

As she tried on the clothes, I observed the way her eyes lit up when she found an outfit she loved.  Quite soon she gently suggested that I might need to leave for other matters, assuring me that she wanted to stay a bit longer to explore some additional shopping on her own. Although a bit surprised, I nodded, understanding her desire to find something sexy, such as a see-through night gown, to surprise me with. Yes, there would definitely be a surprise, but little did I know...

(Click here to read the next chapter.)

[prismstonearchives]

スタイリッシュレディ- Stylish Lady

[grayintogreen]

ye olde good roseverse ask: can you talk some more about the heavenly siblings? pretty please? like, sure, I know that the color of gabriel's wings doesn't indicate anything of importance at the moment, but I still need to know it. and the capital D-dead ones, what did they look like, what actors were the inspirations for them looks-wise or voice-wise (I'm still not over raphael as josh groban, that's absolutely genius)?

Gabriel's wings are dark gray!

So the order of the siblings is Michael, Gabriel, Barachiel, Uriel, Raphael, Selaphiel, Jophiel, and Lucifer. Their virtues are Strength (which is not a heavenly virtue- that's why there's eight, because Michael needs to be Strength), Diligence, Charity, Temperance, Patience, Chastity, Kindness, and Humility, respectively.

Barachiel is a little bit of a hippie flower crown type, very friendly and easy-going with blessings as the angel of charity. Long curly blonde hair. Fun fact! His symbol is roses, so do that with what you will when you consider that Eve and the Root are symbolized by roses and he fell to them. His voice claim is Caleb Hyles.

Selaphiel has kinda got this... serious lanky anime lady vibe (think Yuko Ichihara from xxxholic or Senjumaru from Bleach), but black. Long dark hair, heavy robes over a rail thin form with black raven wings. She wears a thurible on her hip. She's very serious. She's very much the equivalent of Belphegor in her workaholic state. Despite being on the young end, she tends to be the very serious, overworked mom friend who doesn't abide distractions and is very serious. She was the last one to fall when the archangels sealed the Root and made the other four depart so they would be spared. Her voice claim is Heather Headley.

Jophiel is teeny tiny and has this kind of bright eclectic flair to her, very stylish, very cute, very sweet. She looks a lot like Lucifer to the point where people would probably think they were twins if she didn't have the head-wings. Her wings are white, but she wears a lot of silver and pink. She's kind of the Bee of the group. She guarded Eden and was really protective of it. She was the first to die in the fight, and you can probably guess that it was personal on Eve's part since she was still pretty peeved.... Which is sad because she was always so nice to Eve. Her voice claim is Jessie Mueller.

Hopefully that's enough of a tease! I don't wanna give too much away about the main four since we'll see more of them, but these three will barely appear and their appearances aren't really a spoiler.

[archiverstappen]

Ok so this is gonna sound kinda random but I really love how you used photos of girls with long nails for your cat sitter series.

Now I don’t know much about the wags so I could be speaking out of my ass but I can’t picture Max with someone that has long nails like that. There’s no reason for me to think that but I do and seeing the nails weirdly made me feel so nice.

Cause I’m someone that does all that stuff like the nails, I have fun with my make up and taking time doing my hair in cute hairstyles and in a lot of fics that’s the opposite of how they usually describe y/n unless they use a model face claim or something.

And absolutely NOT trying to shit on any of those writers or fics at all, there was just something nice of the non famous crazy cat lady neighbor holding a paddle or the cats leg with her grey and pink nails.

omg i didn’t even expect anybody to notice that! tbh i always imagine that crazy cat lady has always been more of a stylish girl that loves to dress up (because this is the opposite of real life me). i guess that’s one of the perks of writing a fictional character, you can imagine them however you want to be!! i’m so glad that you kinda connect to her in some way🥹🫶🏼

thank you for sharing your thoughts <3

[aptericia]

So! A while ago I made redesigns for some of my least favorite Three Houses outfits. With a lot of the female characters, it feels like the priority with their design is "show boobs and/or bare legs". Obviously, I don't claim to be better at character design than the original artists, but here's my take with the following priorities (in order):

Representing the character and making them easily identifiable. Basically, the design should serve as a "condensed" version of their personality, abilities, culture, etc.

An outfit that I find (with my 100% correct and objective opinion, of course) to be attractive

Being reasonably practical, at least enough that it doesn't break immersion. Considers the character's job, available resources, etc.

Ordinarily I'd design an outfit to go with the character's body type, but I was lazy here lol. If people are interested, I could draw nice versions on the actual characters sometime. Oh, BTW, the concept for this post was heavily inspired by looking through the @bikiniarmorbattledamage tumblr :))))

Below are detailed descriptions on how I went about designing them, if anyone's curious! I will be bashing the original designs quite a bit because I find it funny, but I hold absolutely no disrespect toward anyone who prefers them to my poorly-thought-out versions :)

Bernadetta – I feel like the designers were trying to combine the female archer class outfit, Bernie’s own girly/plushie aesthetic, and the “fancy noble lady” style and it didn’t quiiiiiite work out. I really like the color scheme & overall shapes, so I just went about changing the few things that ruined it for me.

First off, the huge bell sleeves. They’re just silly and don’t match the outfit imo. I turned them into an elaboration on her cute gloves.

Gave her pants instead of booty shorts. I don’t think Bernie would wear a long skirt that would keep her from running around, but the exposed legs give her a “vulnerable” look that I don’t think she’d appreciate. Plus, having the leg-pouch strapped to her bare skin looked really uncomfy ☹.

The boots didn’t work as well with her shiny new Pants, so I gave her knitted leg-warmer things inspired by this gorgeous cipher art.

I expanded her leg-pouch-thing and gave her a teeny little dagger. I just think she’d carry weapons on her person.

Constance – Honestly, credit to her for doing the best she could with the god-awful Dark Flier class design. I still think her outfit is pretty ugly and sexist, so I made some adjustments. I tried to evoke a “noble lady” feeling, but keep the muted color scheme and lack of patterns to imply that she’s actually dirt-poor. I took inspiration from people like Ferdie (noble vibe; armor purely for show not practicality) but with her personal “edgy steampunk vampire” aesthetic.

I changed her stupid boob-cup breastplate. I don’t even care about the dangers of wearing boobplate in realistic combat—it just looks ugly. Like why do you need to go to extra trouble to say “I have BOOBS! TWO of them!!”? It’s embarrassing. I mean it’s fine if you’re proud of your boobs, but then don’t cover them up with metal maybe???

I realized that the designers probably gave her boobplate because, without it, her outfit isn’t actually all that feminine. Coco is a pretty feminine lady, so I remedied this by giving her puffy sleeves (inspired by the Awakening Dark Flier design) and a skirt-thing (with an awkward slit that would allow her to sit on a horse). The skirt had the added bonus of being incompatible with the stupid butt-grabbing hip armor. Good riddance!

Traded in her bare legs for some silly suspender-sock-things. I just thought they worked better with the skirt and more “girly” outfit overall. Also gave her shin-guards to extend the pink color scheme throughout the whole outfit.

I also changed her dress into a stylish vest that, imo, looks nicer (and comfier) with the armor. I gave her some gold accents on the vest & armguards for a dash of color.

Her belt got a revamp to work better with the vest.

Lysithea – On to our favorite doily princess! Her design doesn’t reek as much of “boobs and/or legs priority”, but it’s still silly and looks pretty uncomfortable. I actually really like the aesthetic, so I tried to keep it as much as possible. I did end up having to introduce another color (silver), though.

I think her doily skirt looks extra silly because it’s so dwarfed by her sleeves. I lengthened it, made it puffier, and added another layer beneath it.

More drastically, I ended up changing the whole top of the dress so it was a shirt & skirt instead. I’m not sure I have a justification for this beyond “I don’t usually prefer dresses”, but I’m pretty happy with how it turned out 😊 Also, what’s with the weird rows of ribbons(???) at her sides? Into the trash lol.

The ribbon attachment looks like it would be really cold on her bare chest ☹. I moved it down to the level of her shirt and attached it to her shoulders instead of her neck (for comfort).

Her shoes got boringer but less dumb-looking. What can I say, I’m not good at designing shoes.

Hapi – Hers is the least-bad of the Ashen Wolves’ timeskip designs, not that that’s saying much. I don’t really like gray and green as a color scheme, so I gave her a bit of brown and some more gold accents. Other than that, I feel like she has a sort of forest girl/witch/traveler look, which I tried to keep as much as possible.

Obviously, the silly boob-separator strap had to go. I have no problems with Hapi being sexy, but she’s much more the “forgot to put on my pants when I rolled out of bed at 1:00pm” type rather than the “put extra effort into showing that I have TWO BOOBS” type. Therefore, I kept a similar amount of skin showing but tried to make it easier to assemble.

Her new skirt was based on the Valkrie designs from other games (you’ll notice the similarity to the Mist-inspired outfit in this post). I think this version is both cuter and looks easier to move in. Also, I love giving everyone too many belts! Hers has a lil pouch for carrying random junk she finds.

Both her arms and legs looked a little boring imo, so I gave her some pretty bracelets and altered her shoes. Plus, her original boots looked hard to move in. Here, the actual boot is pretty loose but is tied below the knee with an extra laceable piece and above the knee with a brown strap.

Petra – Ho boy. I always felt like Petra’s design could be potentially problematic, although I’ve never done any research. Anywayyyy, it’s clear that the designers wanted something “exotic”-looking, but they had no ideas beyond “well she’s from a warm climate right” (In reality, someone from a warm climate would probably be unadjusted to the cold and bundle up… but that goes against the goal of “condensed character description” so I don’t really mind). Instead, I took a lot of inspiration from this awesome Cipher art! Her color scheme is a hot mess but not without potential, and personally I think I did okay with it!

Ok, ok, her design also does a decent job of indicating that she’s royalty from a hunting-focused nation. When re-doing her top I tried to keep that in mind, so I gave her some fancy jewelry and animal goods (i.e. fluff). I don’t feel like re-iterating the boobplate argument, so suffice to say that her breastplate suffered the same fate as Constance’s.

I adjusted her arm jewelry to be more to my liking. Not really any logic there.

Her miniskirt is pretty dumb, so I changed the shape and incorporated some hip armor (someone tell me the official name). I also took away the fluffy fringe, seeing as she already got some fluff around her neck. Instead, I added the pattern that was originally on her leg-band.

Do I need to explain giving her another pant leg? I know her outfit is based on the female thief class, but it doesn’t look good there either. And once again, I had no ideas for her shoes beyond not liking the old ones ☹.

[that-one-anxious-mango]

For the Drabble event would you be willing to do the first I love you? I love your writing.

                    As We Grow 

Summary: About how Austin and his best girl said those magical three letter words to one another. Plus the origin of their famous catch phrase.

Contents: MAXIMUM FLUFF. Mentions of past trauma. Gooey feelings. Sleepy Magnus. Crying. Awesome Austin (per usual)

A/N: Hi Beautiful Humans! How are you all? Ugh I missed you! Alas, I’ve been trapped in the claws of college. BUT, since I’m on break and writing up a storm I will try and get out as much as I can while I’m off, and also write some things I can put on auto fill when things get crazy.

I hope you all are having a wonderful holiday. To the Anon who suggested this sorry about the wait babe. AND to any one else who requested something I’m working on it babes. BARE WITH ME.

Any who please enjoy the fic!

P.S Everyone feel free to PLEASE comment and reblog. Also send me letters with ideas and prompts. Love hearing from you all! Much Love! *hugs*

                                              _______

You were sitting on your couch writing in your black leather planner, in it was your to-do list of all the mundane things that needed to be done in the upcoming week.

It had proven to be quite effective and useful in helping you to manage the events and such that went on in your semi-chaotic life.

And as old as you felt admitting that you had a planner in the first place, you felt even more old due to your current choice of outfit and music.

Sitting in your large house pink house dress with matching pink house slippers. Your hair was wrapped up in a silk headscarf and clear kitten framed glasses adorned your face.

In the background, the R & B station on Spotify played Saving all my love from the Whitney Houston album, while the scent of lavender and eucalyptus essential oils filled the air.

It was Sunday which meant self-care and a little bit of life management. Today you'd woken up and gotten brunch with Phoebe, Alex, Alana, and Beatrice. After you and a eager Magnus went to the Totem to go and browse, which you ended up buying a book for yourself and bought two books for Austin. Then you treated yourself to a nice hot shower and a full head to toe skin care routine.

 And now you were where you were.

Earlier in the day Austin had texted you to let you know that he probably wasn't going to be able to come over to watch re-runs of Grey's Anatomy while eating take out Thai-food like the two of you had originally planned. And even though you were disappointed a bit.

You understood.

Every since the two of you had started dating about three months ago, you understood that there were some days and times that you unfortunately may not hear from Austin due to him immersing himself into his work and preparation for Elvis. It's something he'd been upfront about in the beginning of your relationship, about how the process of him doing this role wouldn't exactly mean it would be a cakewalk for you guys. But within being a creative yourself mixed with the rather intense feelings you felt for Austin, you decided that you'd be in this for the long haul as long as you could be.

In the middle of Wednesday's list you heard the buzzer ring.

Frowning in confusion you got up, being followed by the patters of your scary purple onesie dressed guard dog, Magnus.

You weren't expecting anyone.

Going to the intercom you pressed the button speaking, " Yes? "

" Delivery for the most beautiful girl in the world." The voice familiar voice hummed through the box. The bright smile that invaded your face was wide and the involuntary skips that your heart did paired well with the warmth that filled you body.

Deciding to be a tease you replied, " I'm sorry but I think you have the wrong place. Have you tried apartment 3A. The young lady that lives there is quite beautiful and very stylish so it seems." You joked referring to your downstairs neighbor, Gladys Reed, who was a older lady that you'd befriended after a creepy encounter with another neighbor of yours. She was sweet and always looked out for you. She also always complimented you and Austin whenever she seen the two of you.

And you know what they say about an elder approving of a couple. 

It's good luck.

" Well. As beautiful as she is and as nice as that vintage Chanel may look, between me and you I think I you got her beat, baby. All seven days a week and twenty four hours in the day." He chuckled back, " Now let me up so I can see that beautiful face."

Giggling to yourself in glee, a short, " Okay." Squeaked out,  hitting the button that allowed Austin in.

It was only a matter of seconds before the knock on the door came and you ripped it open practically launching yourself into Austin's arms who was quick to sit down whatever was in his hands and happily catch you, securing his hands under your ass to hold you up. You both spoke quick little hi and hellos before you sealed your lips on his.

A fat wet kiss was placed on his lips followed by the depth he poured into it and the move to push the two of you up against a nearby wall, while he let his tongue nudged at the bottom of your lip until you let him in. Tiny moans could now be heard from you that resulted in the grip he had to your ass tightening.

With the door still wide open you could feel things heating up in many different places. Only the small thunderous barks and incessant feeling of paws hitting yours and Austin's legs pulled the two of you away.

Separating you smiled down at Magnus along with Austin who greeted him, cheeks red with embarrassment, " Hey Mags. Sorry man didn't see you there. What's up." He offered slowly setting you back down. Earning a enthused bark of a response, Austin laughed before turning his attention back to you.

" Well I guess you really are trying to compete with Miss Gladys. Huh, baby." He commented as his eyes raked you up and down.

Truth be told he thought you looked quite good. Like someone's fine wife...or mother. The last half of his thought made his chest flutter, because if things kept going the way they were he could see all those things down the line for you two.

Instantly beginning to feel self conscious you quickly offered to go and change into something more age appropriate and appealing. But your efforts were halted, " Uh uh, no. You seem cozy and comfortable, babe. Which makes me feel comfortable and cozy. You look good." He reassured leaning down to peck your lips before smirking, " Sexy even. Besides, long time ago I used to have a thing for older woman, so this might be doing it for me a little bit." He wiggled his eyebrows at your causing the two of you to begin a laughing.

Cheeks heating up you had to remember the spark of curiosity you had when he came in, so you asked, " So, Mr. Delivery man what'd you bring me? "

Looking at you he motioned with his head to follow his gaze to the wall by door and down. And when you looked you seen the pretty medium sized plant in a brown pot with a nicely tied pink ribbon around it sitting on the floor.

Your face scrunched in thoughts and nerves, " Babe, what is this? You know that I don't have a green thumb. At all." You reminded.

And it was true, every plant you'd gotten over you lifetime had always ended up the same way. Dead.

Even the Cacti you'd tried to take care of had found themselves being welcomed into the glory place where all the rest of your plants rested, otherwise known as the trash.

         Like you literally watered a cactus like once...maybe twice a month. So it astonishing to you how you managed to keep a puppy alive ... and not a plant.

" This..", Austin went over and scooped up the plant in hands bringing it over to you, " is our love fern." He stated holding it out.

Taking it cautiously, you bafflingly looked between the nice sized plant and Austin sheepishly smiling," Our..love...fern." You parroted looking at the amused face Austin held.

He nodded, " Yeah, baby. It's our love fern. I got it because you said you wanted one last week when we were watching that Matthew McConaughey and Kate Hudson movie."  He reminded you of the little comment you'd made when the two of you had been snuggled up watching How to lose a guy in ten days.

Then light bulb went off in your head and your eyes widen in playful disbelief,     " BABE! I WAS JOKING! You didn't have to actually go out and bring a poor plant back here to practically sentence to death." " You gawked at him laughing.

" We'll I'm not. There are two reasons why I bought this lovely thing . First, because although I know that you, my love. Are no Mother Nature, I have a pretty good track record of being able to keep plants alive. And I figured that if you have it here at your place, then I'll have a absolute reason and responsibility to come and see you and Magnus at least twice a week. Plus I'll teach you how to care for it when I'm not here, honey." He explained glancing over to the puppy who was enjoying himself on the couch happily lounging on your abandoned blanket.

When your eyes met his again you noticed how serious his face had turned. They captured yours in trance making sure there was no where else for you to look, " And the second and most important reason I bought the plant is because.." He started, using a hand to grab both of yours. He secured them ontop of his own hands that rested on the pot. You unconsciously squeezed them making sure that you had a firm clutch as the two of you held up the pot together.

" I also bought this plant because, I love you. I love you Y/N L/N. So much. That's something I've been wanting to tell you since I met you three months ago. And as this plant will surely grow everyday...so will the love that you and I have for each other. " He paused, " That's if you feel the same way of course." His eyes looked hopeful and pleading at the same time. Like his whole entire being was resting on what'd you say next.

And unbeknownst to you....it kinda did.

By now the waterline in your eyes was threatening to spill and this overwhelming mixture of joy and fear overtook your body all at once. Joyful that the man that you did in-fact love, loved you too. But fearful that while, yes, he did love you, for how long?  How long would he love and enjoy you before he decided that he was done and ready to leave like so many other people in your life had.

 Pulling you out of your thoughts Austin had moved to take the plant out of both  your hands and set it down on the floor next to you. Moving in closer he held your face in his hands gently lifting your head positioned to the floor, up to look at him.

As soon as your eyes locked the tears started flowing and you couldn't hold it anymore, " I love you too Austin. I-I really do." You almost whispered, the worry on his face seemed to only half melt when he seen that you weren't done with your proclamation, " But I'm scared. " You confessed.

His voice was soft in concern, " Scared of what, baby?"

His attentive tone made you feel even worst and you began crying a bit harder causing him to coo pulling you into his chest, resting his chin lightly on your head while soothingly rubbing your back. " You're okay, mama. You're alright. Just Breathe." He affirmed helping you along.

It seemed like the two of you stayed like that, forever in the moment.

Him basking in the feeling of you against him, and you relishing in the music that was the beat of his heart. You had slowed your breathing down to match it. 

It wasn't until you had pulled it together and found the strength to just be honest and say what you needed to say, " I'm afraid that you'll love me for as long as you want and then leave me once you get however and whatever you need. Or find somebody new. I'm not saying that you would do something like that, Austin. But you're not the first person to say those three words to me, and then utter the other two. Good bye."

Sighing, he hated hearing that this was even a doubt in your mind. Not because he was offended or he thought you didn't trust him, but because it made him upset that people in your past hadn't had the courage or god given common sense to take care and cherish you, like he planned to.

So in comfort he posed his own question, " What if you decided to do the same thing? If you find some other guys that could fulfill your needs of cuddles, tacos, and bookkeeping? Huh? What would happen then?" He asked.

Without hesitation you went, " Austin I would never, ever, EVER. Leave you for someone else you know that." You sniffled.

Tenderly pulling you closer he responded, " And just how you would never, I would never. I know that others haven't treated you the way they should have. But baby I am here to stay as long as you want me. And if that just so happens to be forever. Then dammit,  you better believe I'll love you forever and always. " He stopped chuckling a bit, " Hell, I might just follow you into the beyond, baby. And love on you there."

His comments laugh. He made you feel so at peace and loved. You felt warm inside and outside of your body.

Pulling away you went to look at his face which his instinctively reached out and wiped some stray tears off of your face,  offering a somber smile, " Well okay then. Let's do it. I'll love you Austin Butler. Forever, always and beyond." You affirmed smiling.

Nodding in excitement he said, " And I too will love you Y/N Y/L/N. Forever, Always and Beyond. No matter what." He concluded swooping you in for a kiss that tasted salty by the mixture of your tears and some of his. The two of you had kissed plenty of times now, but with each kiss still came that gooey feeling. And you never wanted to let it go anywhere.

Minutes whirled by you two being wrapped in each other before Austin was picking up the plant to try and help you find the best place for it.

Deciding that it'd thrive best in your bedroom window where it was in line of direct sunlight and your eyesight. You now lied snuggled up with Austin's arms securely wrapped around your body while he big spooned, and felt the little movements Magnus made in his sleep from his position at the foot of your bed.

Together the two of you watched the sun say it's goodnight and moon say hello when Austin made a comment in your ear, " Now, baby. No matter what happens. You have absolutely got to remember to help keep our love fern alive. I mean it, now. Don’t let our love fern die." He warned kissing the shell of your ear.

Just then a corny reference to the movie popped in your head and you couldn't resist, " But, honey. What if it decides it wants to go to sleep? " You teased.

Chuckling along he responded with a, " Absolutely not."

                                             ---------

              * Reference from Movie :) *