Strawberry Milk Aesthetic の小説・ストーリー

It was just a certain glow, a kind of soft, angelic beauty that was hard to describe. Across from her, Thalia was gently swirling her strawberry ice cream. She was about to speak when a wave of nausea rose in her chest.

Having got my way, I sat on the bed and asked Cassandra to get me the earthen keg, which was among the things my maid had brought earlier. Though unwilling, the bitch had no choice but to obey. I bet in her heart, she'd cursed me a million times, but that was none of my business. With Jenna's head resting on my lap, I took the small keg, which contained a blend that looked like milk but smelled like strawberries. With the lid off, I then applied the substance onto her hair and massaged it in, making sure it saturated every strand and her scalp.

"My little princess will have everything she desires and it will all come from me." Samantha shook her head, amused. "You're setting yourselves up for disaster." Mia winked. "We'll take turns spoiling. You'll referee." Aiden chuckled. "Game on." ***** GLAM GIRLS "What the heck is this crap?" Raquel snapped, staring at the smoothie she had just taken a sip from. Bianca looked around, confusion lining her feathers. "Strawberry smoothie. You asked me to get this specific type for you."

“That’s white milk.” I didn’t even bother turning my head. “You’re remarkably observant this morning.” “I don’t want white milk.” “Sure.” She marched two steps forward, her free hand going to her tiny hip. “I want pink milk.” I poured batter into the waffle iron. It hissed softly on contact. “What’s available this morning is white milk.” “That is not princess milk,” she’s already getting louder. “That is boring milk.” “Drink it with your eyes closed.”

I sank onto the blanket, toes curling into the grass, and let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “Feels weird,” I admitted. “Like we’re in another world.” “That’s the point.” He lay back beside me, one arm tucked under his head. We ate strawberries, laughed about nothing, and let the silence in between stretch without pressure. When I leaned back and stared at the sky, he reached over and slid his hand over mine. On our way back, Maverick pulled the car over without warning. I frowned until I noticed the little storefront we’d stopped in front of. The sign above the glass read Palette & Pour, painted in looping strokes that looked like someone had done it by hand.

Like the life she kept locked away in a North Side apartment twenty minutes from this building. "I—" Her voice came out barely above a whisper. "I like strawberry milk. I drink it every morning." Declan's fingers curved under her chin, tilting her face up — slow, deliberate, inescapable. His thumb pressed lightly against her jaw and her skin flushed scarlet under the touch. Those black eyes held hers. Relentless. Reading every micro-expression she couldn't suppress. "Strawberry milk," he repeated. Like he was testing the lie's weight.

“Cool brother. Your hair is black.” “And yours is yellow.” “Your eyes are slanted up!” “…This isn’t racism, is it?” “Like a black cat! Cool!” “Hmm, I’ll take it as a compliment.” Where the hell is this vending machine that it’s not showing up? Just when I was thinking that, a rest area with a terrace and three vending machines came into view. “Wow! It’s strawberry flavoured!” Coincidentally, the vending machine was plastered with a fruit character called ‘strawberry very,’ and they were even selling a drink with what appeared to be strawberry very, a yellow hamster, drawn together with a strawberry.

My cheeks heat up and subconsciously, my thighs press together. “Here I am,” I reply, breathless. Our gelato arrives, and I’m grateful for the minor distraction. My eyes widen as I pick mine up. Soft green, with fresh strawberry chunks. “Is this strawberry mint?! Oh my goodness Devon, have you been stalking me?” He doesn’t reply, the look in his eyes says all I need to know. I should be annoyed. A bit terrified maybe. I can’t even remember the last time I posted anything about my favorite flavors online or anywhere. I should be wary.

“Give me another reason.” “Because I want you close. Because I liked falling asleep with your strawberry scent at night.” Her mouth twitched. “Strawberry scent?” I bent down, pressing my face into the delicious spot where her throat met her shoulder, soaking in that sweet aroma before pressing a kiss on her skin. “Like a goddamn strawberry field. I don’t even like strawberries.” She giggled, twitching under my mouth. “Who doesn’t like strawberries?” “Me. They are false packages. They promise sweetness, but most of the time they are sour and watery.”

She says dismissively. I couldn’t help but feel giddy. Ice cream has a way of making everything feel better. I made a beeline to the stall we had passed by earlier, the one pressing their own waffle cones on hot irons. Their ice creams are proudly displayed behind the glass. Silky and glossy with vibrant colors. Milky white vanilla, pale green pistachio, blush pink rose water, deep purple blackberry, and a rich chocolate ice cream all lined up in a neat row behind the glass.