#I don’t have time to waste judging your choices

[ranthaven]

That song that goes:

I’ve no more fucks to give / My fucks have all run dry / I tried to go fuck shopping but there’s no fucks left to buy

That’s me every day. Creeping towards 60. I slap my bass slowly.

Hey, take it from someone creeping towards 40:

Ignore the fun police.

If you like it, order your steak well done. Get your bagel toasted with jam and butter. Put ice in your scotch and ketchup on your hotdog. Get red wine with fish and white with steak. Who cares?

If you want to, listen to pop music. Watch blockbuster popcorn flicks. Read dime store novels. Enjoy them.

Dye your hair or cut it off. Paint your fingernails blue. Wear whatever the fuck you want on your own time (ie, when not at a job or school or whatever where you can get penalized for breaking rules) as long as you aren’t like welding or shoveling snow.

Anyone who tries to tell you you’re wrong? Say “okay” and go back to what you were doing. You’re not hurting them by enjoying yourself or having things the way you like them.

There are no caveats or addendums to this. No “but what about x?” Nah. You’re allowed the things you like. You don’t have to justify your taste or apologize for it if it’s not hurting anyone.

And likewise, let other people live their lives. We’re all dead in the long run, so tend your own garden before you become fertilizer in it.

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART NINETEEN

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, not many for this chapter :p masterlist a/n: wanted so badly for this chapter to be longer but just as i finished a 60-hour work week, i fell down with the flu. boooo.

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

Price kept his promise when the time came, the next morning shifting to evening, the sun resting along the horizon. You’d spent the better majority sleeping off the pain, unable to stay awake for long while the parasite ate away at you from the inside and out.

Waking to a booming ‘Land ho!’ was the relief you needed to relax properly, the potential of you receiving urgent attention easing your worries momentarily.

You hadn’t had a proper moment alone, always waking to another man in the room watching over you, appearing just as tired as you. Gaz was often the one who took over, or in his place it was Soap. The Captain was making haste in steering to landfall in order to guarantee your spot in healing. He was wasting no time, keeping all hands on deck to make it happen.

You weren’t expecting Ghost, however, when you opened your eyes. He was lounged in Price’s chair at his desk lazily, eyes blinking sleepily at the floor, his fist on his cheek. He looked oddly comfortable, sat at ease rather than a man who seemed to always have a target on his back.

“Ghost?” you croaked, habitually attempting to sit up. It knocked the air out of your lungs immediately and you settled back down once you noticed Ghost tense up.

He grunted in response, eyes darting up from the floor to you. You’d hardly seen him since Graves’ unsettling show, and you were sure he was only in the room because he thought you’d be asleep long enough for him to switch shifts with somebody else.

“Y’alright?” he asked, gaze flickering down to your side where the bruising was becoming a disgusting black, almost resembling rotting flesh.

“We are almost there?” you asked instead, shifting the blanket over you subconsciously.

He nodded, taking his fist off of his cheek and leaning back in the chair. “Not too long now,” he responded. “Just sit tight.”

You fiddled with the hem of the sheets, picking at a loose thread. The air felt heavy with awkwardness, and it nearly suffocated you. You hated how strange it always felt in Ghost’s presence, like a force between you condemned you away from one another, but you weren’t too sure if it was you or him creating it.

Judging from previous actions, it was definitely him. He wasn’t an easy person to talk to—even after his apology.

“You don’t like me, do you?” you asked without a second thought. Once it came from your mouth, you instantly regretted it. If you were able to move on your free will, you’d have slapped yourself by now.

“What?” he grumbled.

You swallowed, peering up at the ceiling to avoid looking at him. “You do not seem very fond of me. Even after everything.”

You felt his stare on the side of your face. It was burning into you. “Is that so?”

You nodded once, a curt movement that was stiff and uncomfortable. Now that you had bitten off more than you could chew, the only solution was to continue gnawing.

“S’not that,” he answered. He shifted in his seat, tapping his fingers absentmindedly on the table. “You’ve already forgotten our talk? I’m not the type to repeat myself.”

“I have not.”

“Then why are you always stressin’ ‘bout it?” he huffed, almost like a child. At times, he surely acted like one—a rather rude one, but you digress.

“You seem tense with me,” you replied quietly, wondering why the conversation was brought up in the first place. It was never easy speaking of feelings with Ghost, and you were learning that the hard way. You didn’t understand why you felt compelled to begin something with no finish.

“I’m tense because you’re hurt,” he corrected, albeit a bit coldly. “S’not you.”

You gnawed on your lip as you stared into nothingness. Ghost was always an enigma, a puzzle piece you couldn’t quite fit anywhere, and the more you spoke with him, the more difficult it became.

You wanted to understand him, but how could you understand somebody who didn’t want to be understood? Then again, perhaps he thought the same of you.

“Has Graves done this before?” you asked, tone growing soft.

You knew Ghost was at the hands of Graves more than once. The unspoken trauma he held was evident simply in the way he fueled his hatred for the evil captain. If there was anybody who knew Graves for who he truly was, it was Ghost.

“Worse,” he said shortly, as if the matter was so simple to understand. It made your stomach twist up, imagining the horrors that lie along Graves’ past.

“Worse?” you murmured to yourself in disbelief.

Truly, what had Graves done? Surely, he had killed plenty. He held the card of death, dealing it to those unknowing. He played the game until he grew bored, tossing his pawns aside when he wanted a new one.

Were you simply his plaything for the time being? What would happen when he sought out a new one?

You turned your head to look at Ghost. You studied the skull ring that glistened on his finger, as well as the matching mask that locked up his true identity.

Ghost was just as much a pawn as you were—he was simply the last one standing.

“Why do you wear it?” you asked, and when his eyes simmered with confusion, you continued. “The skulls. They are his, yes?”

Ghost glanced down at his ring, wiggling his finger for good measure. “It angers him,” he explained calmly, toying with the ring with his thumb. “He takes pride in his ship. The skull flag on his ship is his staple—he thinks only those deserving are allowed the opportunity to flaunt it.”

“So… you wear it because he does not think you’re deserving, and it angers him?” you finished.

“I consider it a game,” Ghost shrugged. “He took what was mine. I take what’s his.”

You blinked, trying to piece together the puzzle. It made sense in your head, but you felt you were missing something.

“What did he take from you?”

Ghost finally looked at you, pupils blown with that familiar hatred you’d seen all this time. Now, though, you know it’s not for you.

“Everythin’,” he muttered. “I’ll be sure to do the same for him."

Ghost left rather quickly after that. You hated to see him go, but you knew a nerve was struck and he wanted to be alone—it was something he preferred. You could respect that.

Soap was the one who took charge, talking your ear off while you drifted in and out of sleep. He was lifting your spirits as always, trying desperately to get you out of the funk you’d been stuck in.

The conversation with Ghost took enough energy from you that it left you lifeless, resuming to your exhausted state and only offering an occasional hum of acknowledgment to Soap. You felt horrible for seeming so uninterested, but Soap didn’t seem to mind. In fact, if anybody were to understand, it would be him.

“After all this is over, I say we take a li’l vacation, aye?” Soap piped in. You glanced at him blearily, silently nodding in agreement. “Ye ever drink before, dove?”

You shook your head, causing Soap to gawk at you as if you’d just offended his entire family. “Never? Well, we’ll have to change that the second yer all fixed up. Get ye to a nice pub and drink yer sweet heart out. Yeeeah, that sounds real nice ‘bout now.”

He let out a dramatic sigh, shoulders slumping. Soap, ever the sweetest, always kept a peppy attitude for you, even if you could see the exhaustion lines forming on his face. He was so compassionate with you, and you feared you didn’t deserve it. It was your fault for all this mess.

“Yer first drink’s on me, aye? Hell, once yer back on yer feet, I’ll pay for all yer drinks, how’s that sound?”

“Bargainin’ to a sick bird, am I hearin’ that right?”

Both you and Soap looked to the door where the Captain stood, hand on the knob. He was so silent as he came in, presumably not to wake you in the case you were asleep.

“Ach, the girl deserves a drink after all this. M’just tryin’ to make her feel better,” Soap defended with a huff, shooing his hand.

Price snorted in amusement, stepping into the room. He made his way to your bedside where Soap sat, peering down at you and observing.

“How’s my dove doin’ today?” Price asked, his tone affectionate.

You caught a glimpse of Soap’s side eye towards the Captain’s behavior, evidence of confusion washing over his expression. He said nothing, only blinking slowly. You could practically see the gears in his head clogging up the workings in there.

Price looked a bit more hopeful that day, albeit sluggish. His smile was tilted as if his lips were too heavy to lift fully, his eyes were dimmed from the light you’d seen recently. You knew he was pushing past his limit, hardly sleeping and overriding his brain with too many steps in his plans.

“I’m fine,” you assured quietly, though you prayed he couldn’t see through it.

You weren’t fine at all. You felt like a vessel while your soul floated above your body and watched on as you slowly crumbled to ash. You no longer felt completely present, only forced into living from the consistent wakings for meals or check-ups.

The mess on your ribcage had blossomed into a murky pool of black, only spreading rather than weakening. The poisoned veins were like a wildfire, untamable as they slithered their way through your body and organs as if making them its collection.

You were a disastrous mess on the inside. On the outside, though you were gray and sickly with sunken bags beneath your eyes, you tried to present yourself as anything but, mustering up the strength to converse with each and every one of them when you weren’t sleeping.

It was easy for any of them to see it, though. The spark in your eyes had vanished and you resembled more of a corpse than a woman.

Price tilted his head, staring at you for a moment. His hand lifted and he brushed the back of his knuckles across your forehead, resting them there. What met him was warmth. While it would’ve been a comforting feeling, it made him more worried than anything.

“You’re still hot,” he murmured, more to himself. “Have she been like this all day?”

Soap shrugged, frowning. “She’s been asleep for half of it.”

Price glanced at Soap before sighing through his nose. “We’ve got just a couple of more hours. Think you can wait it out a bit more for me, dove?”

You nodded sluggishly. What more was another hour or two? You had already dealt with it for days. The pain wouldn’t subside regardless.

Price attempted another smile, one you couldn’t return. It pained him to see you in a state so depressing, but it wouldn’t be the last that you and his crew would go through hell. He’d seen Ghost in far too similar circumstances before.

He gave your cheek a soft squeeze, frowning to himself when even that didn’t wash away the hollow expression you wore. He felt like he was looking at the shadow of a person that once existed.

“We’ll come and collect you when it’s time,” he told you softly. You only hummed through a sigh, feeling the unfortunate taste of exhaustion once again.

Soap and the Captain shared a look before they exchanged a few quiet words you couldn’t hear. Price seemed reluctant to leave but did nonetheless, slipping the door closed with such gentleness that it didn’t dare disturb you.

Soap remained where he was, studying your every feature as you slipped back into that unforgiving dream state, unable to take his eyes off of you—not when they were so close to getting you to a healer.

He feared if he looked away for even a moment, you might just slip through his fingers.

You’d loved helping people ever since you were a child. You couldn’t remember much, but you knew for certain that you’d been that way all your life—the simple aid of carrying items for the elders in your village, helping the merchants set up for the day, caring for the younger children if they’d hurt themselves or scraped up a knee or two.

It was something you’d always known that soon developed into a bigger dream the older you got. An obsession, some would say, to the idea of being your village’s healer and curing them of their misfortunes. Medicine was a calling, and you listened to its guide, working day and night to learn and discover all new possibilities that you’d never seen before.

Yet, that love for helping others labeled you crazy. The village slowly lost their affection for you, turning their backs as if you’d never been apart of them, disgusted by the fact that a woman of your age was unmarried and childless.

You knew you were meant for more, yet the people who you’d spent your entire life becoming apart of had shunned you over your mere dreams. There was a great, big world out there to discover, but they wished to keep you confined to their little home and grant you misery for the sake of keeping tradition.

Women didn’t have dreams. They didn’t have hopes. How silly of a world was that?

You still wanted to pursue them. You had the whole world ahead of you, and you were angry that there was a possibility of it being snatched away from you, all because of one man. He was ruining the work you'd spent years prioritizing, and you'd be damned if you didn't get what you wanted.

Even as you lay, rotting away in Price’s cot, that desire never went away. It only blossomed, the need nipping at you like an aggravating tick.

It was a wonder how you hadn’t succumbed to the vile venom that Graves’ had slipped under your skin when he bashed his boot into the workings of your ribcage. How you were still alive was unfathomable, something even you didn’t understand after working for years to do so.

Was it simply will that people needed to survive? Was it determination? Or was it just you, the lucky one?

Your mind was muddled with these screaming thoughts as you remained in your unconsciousness. Yet, even asleep, you could feel your body being jolted, like somebody was slipping their arms around you and carrying you to a place unknown. You tried to wake up, but you were trapped in your own world as if needing to seek answers before escaping.

Your ears pricked at the sounds of voices. They sounded far away, muffled as if underwater, and inside your cafe of your mind, you fought to hear, to get a glimpse of your reality that you were missing out on.

“I don’t know, Cap. There are rumors swirlin’ that this woman works wonders, has the hands of the Gods workin’ with her,” a voice exclaimed. Gaz, as clever as ever. You’d know his voice anywhere.

“You speak nonsense,” another voice said. You recognized the gruffness as Price. He sounded closer than Gaz did, but you couldn’t pinpoint why. “We cannot get our hopes up over stories. She’s a medic, just as the others. We will not rely on foolishness to fuel our hope for dove’s recovery.”

You heard Gaz scoff, and you could nearly picture the tightening of his jaw and the slight downward curl of his lips—like a child pouting.

“You do not find it strange, Captain, that our dove hasn’t perished to the willingness of Graves’ curse?” Gaz asked. “Perhaps the rumors are true. Maybe this woman knew we were comin’, and that’s why dove’s held out for so long. Don’t you think a li’l extra hope is what we need?”

“We will know it when we see it,” Price retorted, clearly still unbelieving of Gaz’s claims. “I will not believe in such sorcery until it has been done to dove. What matters is healin’ her.”

“You have seen what Graves has done to others,” Gaz tried once more. “Sorcery is always possible.”

The captain didn’t reply, and you knew that meant he was stumped. You wished dearly to wake and speak with them yourself, to hear of Gaz’s story and to understand where Price is coming from. The desire to meet both their needs felt heavy, and it only grew the longer you went without it.

“Sorcery is what got us in this situation in the first place,” another voice joined in. You were surprised to hear Ghost chime in his own thoughts. It made you wonder if he spoke more when you weren’t around. “If you do not recall that, Gaz.”

You heard another scoff, one could only assume from Gaz. A tempered one, he was.

“Ever the so positive one, aye, Ghost?” Soap. There was no mistaking that heavy accent and chirpy tone.

You heard a snort, then Ghost speak, “Always.”

The world fell silent after that. If you listened close enough, you could hear the shifting of clothes and the crunch of dead leaves. You hadn’t a clue what was happening, though your best bet was that the ship had made landfall, and your path to getting healed was closer than ever.

So why did it feel like something else was beginning to unravel out of control?

[succulentsiren]

Judgements from others is never personal, so stop treating it like it is.

Some people may think you’re too skinny or too fat, too wild or too boring, or too loud or too quiet. But it is only if you agree with their judgements, that it’ll become your truth.

Don’t torture yourself by associating with something that has nothing to do with you because when you do identify with someone else’s lowly judgements of you, you are agreeing to a mindset of self-sabotage.

People who take judgments personally, constantly live in paralyzing fear of what others think of them, which is a waste of time because they’ll be judged anyways — Understand that people’s judgements are not something to be internalized, neither something to be controlled. It is simply just something not to align or identify yourself with.

Make the choice to live your best life regardless of outside judgments. Remain unbothered, self-focused and self-validated. Don’t let what others think define you. Define yourself. Have the mindset of, “I’m not who you say I am. I am that I am.”

Stop replaying painful memories — of when people aimed their judgements towards you, in order to plant guilt and insecurities into your psyche. Free yourself by detaching and disassociating. Let these memories go and understand that it was never personal anyways. (Spiteful people always project their own insecurities unto others because they want you to be as miserly as they are).

You can either choose to disassociate and not take judgements personally, or you can cause yourself pain by identifying with the judgements and hurtful opinions of others.

The choice is yours.

[hoesluvjude]

Behind the scenes|| jude bellingham

Word count : 1k words

Genre:fluff

Author's note :just a small blurb :)

Masterlist

you passed him your phone, a playful smirk on your face. The golden hour sunlight hit just right, casting a warm glow over the ocean, and you weren’t about to let the perfect lighting go to waste. He already knew what was coming.

“Take a few pictures of me, babe?” you asked, though it wasn’t really a question. You were already walking towards the waves, tossing your curls over your shoulder in preparation.

Jude sighed dramatically, his lips curling into a teasing smile. “Do I have a choice?”

“Nope,” you replied over your shoulder, shooting him a cheeky grin. “C’mon, you’re getting better at this.”

“That’s a low bar,” he muttered, but his hands were already on your phone, turning it horizontally. He lined up the shot as you struck your first pose, your sundress swirling around your legs.

“Is that how you’re gonna stand?” he asked, tilting his head.

You dropped your arms. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing,” he said, lips twitching. “Just looks like you’re about to model for a catalogue. Maybe relax a little?”

“Oh, you’ve got jokes now?” You planted a hand on your hip, narrowing your eyes at him. “You know what? Maybe I'll be the judge of my pose. Just tilt the camera up a little—no, a little—you’re making me look like I’m three feet tall.”

Jude sighed again, playing up his exasperation, but adjusted the angle as instructed. “Anything else, boss?”

“Yeah, make sure my legs don’t look weird. And watch the lighting.”

“Lighting,” he repeated, deadpan. “Got it. Anything else? Should I Photoshop it on the spot?”

You laughed, unable to stay serious when he was like this. “Keep it up, and you’re not getting any of the pictures I take of you later.”

“Empty threat. I look good in every photo.” He smirked, and you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling back.

“Why does it look like my forehead is trying to steal the show?” you groaned, snatching the phone from his hands, looking at the first picture to make sure his taking them right.

“It is your forehead,” he shrugged , smirking. “I’m just working with what you’ve got.”

You rolled your eyes, standing behind him to adjust his grip. "Tilt the camera up, genius."

He snapped a few pictures as you changed poses, shifting your weight from one foot to the other and playing with the hem of your dress. "Alright, let me see," you said, walking over to peek at the screen.

“Not bad,” you admitted grudgingly. “But you’ve got me looking too serious. I want something fun.”

“Fun?” he echoed. “What does that even mean?”

“Like, candid! Like I’m laughing at some inside joke.”

“So, fake a laugh?”

You rolled your eyes. “Or you could say something funny, you know, like a normal person.”

Jude raised an eyebrow, a sly grin spreading across his face. “You want me to make you laugh or giggle? Okay…” He paused for effect, then said in a low, teasing tone, “You know you’re sexy, right?”

Your cheeks heated, and you quickly turned away. “That doesn’t count! That’s just you being cocky.”

“But it worked, didn’t it?” He snapped a photo of you mid-laugh, the corners of his mouth lifting in satisfaction.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, but when you looked at the picture, you couldn’t deny he’d captured the moment perfectly.

He handed the phone back, admiring you as you examined the shots. “Are we done now?”

You glanced at him, a mischievous glint in your eye. “One more. Just… tilt the camera a little more to the left—no, your left—and, oh! Step back a bit.”

“Next time, I’m charging you,” he grumbled, though he complied without complaint.

“Oh, please,” you teased. “You love this. You love me.”

Jude lowered the phone, meeting your gaze with a soft smile that caught you off guard. “Yeah,” he said quietly, his voice losing its usual teasing edge. “I do.”

You blinked, your breath hitching for a moment. But before you could respond, he added with a grin, “But I don’t love being your unpaid photographer.”

And just like that, the spell was broken. You threw your hands up, laughing. “Fine, you’re free. For now.”

He walked to you, slipping an arm around your waist as you walked back to towards the beach hut. “Next time, you’re taking pictures of me, though. And I expect the same level of effort.”

You snorted. “You’ll get what you get.”

Jude shook his head, grinning. “Nah, you’re training me too well for that. You’ve got competition now, babe.”

You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge?”

“Always,” he said, his voice warm with affection. And even though he’d complain again the next time you handed him your phone, you both knew he didn’t mind—not when it was you.

[erwinsvow]

“yeah, you want that one?” rafe asks you, while you browse through the dresses on the rack. the one you’ve picked out to show him is yellow gingham, with skinny straps and a bow on the neckline. you hold the dress to your chest, looking down to see where it’ll end on you. “i’ll get it for you.”

“hm…” you consider the idea for a moment, holding the dress out again to get a better look. “i don’t know. it’s pretty short.”

“since when is that a bad thing?” rafe moves his arm against the rack, manhandling the hanger from your hand and holding it against you himself. “think it’s perfect.” you laugh at your boyfriend’s antics.

“there has to be a reason to wear it, rafe. i don’t have any right now.”

“we’ll go to dinner. there’s your reason.”

“i have other dresses,” you decide finally, putting it back between the others.

“c’mon, just let me get it for you.” he follows you while you walk away and wander towards the jewelry section of the store. you look down at sparkling silver and shimmery gold, while rafe joins you and leans against the glass counter. “you want jewelry instead? that’s fine.”

“no, i’m just looking,” you insist again. “it’s called window shopping. ever heard of it? 

there’s pretty things in the case, a silver bracelet with little blue stones that particularly catches your eye since blue is your new favorite color, but you don’t really want anything, and you really don’t want rafe to buy it for you.

“no. just pick somethin’ out. my treat.” you glance up at rafe.

“for what? i haven’t done anything.” he laughs to himself, not necessarily at you, more because of you.

“i don’t need a reason.” he makes you flush, so you walk away again, this time to the shoes. you hold a pair of brown sandals in your hand, flipping them over to see the size.

“you already treated me, remember? you paid for lunch.” rafe grabs the shoes out of your hands too.

“that’s a meal, not a treat. want these?” he looks down at you, not even sparing a glance to the price tag. “c’mon.” you grab his wrist as fast as you can.

“no! no. i have some just like these. it’ll be a waste, i’ll never wear them.”

“are you bein’ serious or are you just sayin’ that?” damn it. you are just saying it, since you don’t want rafe spending his money on you. you lie to cover your tracks.

“serious. i’d never lie to you.”

you wrestle the shoes out of his hand, settling them back on the shelf. 

“fine. c’mon, we can go somewhere else.” you finally let him buy you an ice cream cone just so he’ll stop offering.

you try to explain to rafe that the reason you want to walk around is to look around and spend time with him, not to really buy things, but he’s hard to convince. 

rafe thinks you need to stop being so worried about what everyone will think. you’re still bad at it, trying to ignore that part of you that murmurs in your ear that people will judge you for all these nice, new things rafe wants to buy you. you think people will say you’re dating him for the money, but worse than that, you think people will say bad things about rafe, about his choice in dating you, if you ever make him buy you more than dinner or ice cream.

your hesitancy gets the best of you, and even though you’ve always had some nice things, being pampered by rafe feels inherently wrong, like you should at least make sure he knows he doesn’t need to buy you anything. lost in your own thoughts, you’ve rejected his offers countless times, and the only new, expensive thing he’s gotten you since you started dating is the R necklace you wear everyday. 

you think you’re good at hiding it, but you’re not. rafe sees right through you, and he knows what he’s going to do about it. 

later that week, rafe drops you off at home in the morning after you slept over. you still think he hates driving in the cut—as much as he denies it—but he refuses to let you bike back and forth to tannyhill. 

“i’ll pick you up for dinner.” he says, leaning across you to open the passenger side door. you flush like you always do, partly because he’s not asking, he’s telling.

you nod, and then wave bye from the window. he waits until you get inside to drive away, which makes you want to go scream into your pillow. you head into your room to do just that, but you’re greeted instead by bags and boxes littered across your bed.

you know what they are, even before you walk over on your wobbly knees and set aside the tissue paper, looking down with watery eyes all the things you had been admiring in the store the other day with rafe. you sit down next to them—the yellow dress, the pretty sandals, the glittery bracelet—and dial rafe’s number on your phone. you exhale shaky breaths while the line rings, but can’t hold back tears any longer when he answers.

“you didn’t have to do this,” you say quietly into the phone, biting your cheek. you try to blink away the new tears.

“do what?” you laugh, so rafe laughs too. 

“i…i feel bad when you buy me things.”

“i know. y’should stop that.”

“or you can stop first.”

“i’m never gonna stop.” you suck in a breath, heart thudding and feeling deliriously in love. “gonna come get you later. wear the new stuff, okay?”

“okay. i will.”

“that’s my girl.” you fall back and let your head hit the pillow.

[4allthefours4]

A Punishment to Remember

(Use of the word cunt. Reader doesn’t mind feminine clothing.)

Minors DNI

Kinks/Warnings: Bondage, Toys, Overstimulation, Dacryphilia, Mean Dom Tighnari

I’m a hardcore Tighnari simp, don’t judge my fantasy. Lmao

Being in a relationship with Tighnari let you discover a few things about yourself. One, being the fact that feminine clothing made you feel more free. Two being that you absolutely loved headpats. And three, you’re one horny bitch.

“Nari, p- please...” you stutter, body jolting with every pulse of the toy inside you. 

The fox simply glances at you, fidgeting with a small device in his hand before returning to reading. This was supposed to be a punishment, but the man couldn’t say no to your tearful face, at least sometimes. 

You writhe in your place on your shared bed, hands still tied together behind your back. Your feet and legs are separated with a bar, giving the fox the perfect view of your lower half whenever he wishes to look at you. You take the few moments you know you have to gather your breath, shifting in your place to a better area covered in less of your fluids than the previous. The punishment had been going on for at least an hour, the fox leaving the bed after only a few minutes of watching you squirm.

The reasoning for the punishment was dumb, really. You had gotten particularly distracted in trying to beat Cyno in a game of TCG, completely forgetting to return the book you had borrowed from the library a week prior. Your perfect record of non-overdue books had been broken, because of a simple card game. Honestly, if it were anyone else Tighnari wouldn’t care. He’d simply remind you of the book in your satchel when you returned home and he’d watch you leave the house once again to return said book. Unfortunately, or... fortunately, you were a horny bastard telling him to punish you anytime he deemed it necessary. 

Electricity shoots up your spine as the toy continues its previous vibrations, the intensity much higher than before. A rabbit vibrator was the toy of choice for today’s activity, the toy being able to stimulate both your insides and your tiny dick. 

“I want you to apologize to me for wasting perfectly good daylight playing card games when you were supposed to be returning this book.” Tighnari  finally speaks, shutting the book in his hands with a loud snap.

“I’m sORrY!” You start, the vibrations inside you intensify making you arch your back. A sinful moan leaves your swollen lips as you cum for what felt like the tenth time that night. In all honesty, you had lost track of your orgasms after the third.

A small chuckle leaves the fennec fox as he watches you squirm in your place on the bed. He watches as your walls desperately try and push the toy out, a small string thankfully keeping it in place. He had thought of everything to make this the most pleasurable punishment he could. 

Before another loud moan can rip through you, soft lips smash against your swollen ones, swallowing the moan in your throat. Tighnari’s tongue forces your mouth open, not that you were complaining, fighting yours for dominance. Almost as quickly as the fight starts it ends, you happily letting the man’s tongue explore your mouth. No spot is left untouched as your tongues dance together in a passionate make out.

You freeze as a particularly loud moan leaves you, almost biting the other’s tongue off. The toy had turned to its max, the harsh vibrations make you cum once again, mouth opening in a silent scream. Tighnari watches with wide eyes as liquid sprays from your cunt, chuckling as your legs twitch much more than before. 

Tears stream from your eyes as you beg the fox to stop the vibrations ripping orgasms out of you left and right. Your sensitivity had finally caught up to you, making the once pleasurable vibrations almost unbearable. 

“One more, love. I know you can give me one more like that.” Tighnari whispers, rotating the vibrator inside you. He separates the other part from your dick, choosing instead to rub the nub by himself. His hands are skillful as he watches your cunt pulse with each movement from his hand. His left hand grips the handle on the toy, thrusting it in and out of you as his right speeds its assault on your dick.

Your back involuntarily arches as a pornographic moan leaves your throat. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you squirt once more, vision going white for a few seconds. 

“There you go. Is my handsome baby satisfied?” Tighnari whispers in your ear. You nod your head as much as you can, sleep threatening to take you. “Sleep, my prince. I will take care of this mess for you.”

You let out a small hum, vision going black as you pass out from exhaustion. The last thing you hear is a faint chuckle from the man beside you.

[planetnini]

ONE — MAYBE I COULD FIX HIM ?

with the week you're having, you don't have it in you anymore to deal with anymore bullshit and take it out on your asshole of a roommate gojo satoru (3.8k words)

content. cheating (we don’t do the cheating), named ex: hiroto, shoko is an extremely good judge of character, geto suguru the man that you are, gojo is a bit of an asshole, reader goes off at the end (rightfully so) <33

Whoever said that if you do what you love, you'll never work another day in your life was a liar. Sure it was a well-meaning sentiment and while it filled your soul with some semblance of hope on some days, it was the main reason you were struggling with your degree and drowning in work. 

So much for dreaming big…

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” the girl questioned. The smoke from her cigarette created an odour that permeated the air as you let out a sigh, leaning back on the wall.

“That shit’s gonna kill you one day.” you muttered moving your head toward the cigarette in between her fingers as you turned your attention to the scene in front of you, waiting for her to finish.

“Make sure I have a nice funeral.” she chuckled before puffing out a cloud of smoke as she pulled the cigarette away from her mouth. When you didn't laugh at her comment, she just stared at you. Your eyes were closed and breathing a little jagged as she observed. Did you think she wouldn't notice?

Ieriri does not reveal much about herself, but everyone that was friends with her knew she was deathly loyal and cared for her friends in a unique way. She put the stick up to her mouth inhaling as she spoke, "You look like shit.” 

“You know how my afternoon lectures are.” she sighed.

She put out her cigarette in the ashtray bin and tucked her hands into her pocket. She was not at all convinced by your story. 

“Hold it Missy.” she demanded and of course your feet stopped in its tracks before her, “Tell me what’s wrong now.”

“I’ve been hearing things about Hiroto.”

You don’t think you’ve met someone that hated Hiroto more than your best friend herself. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as you mentioned your boyfriend or as she called him ‘he-who-must-not-be-named’. She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed, her lips pulling into a pout. She always had a thing for the dramatics.

"What else is new? Hiroto is a scumbag."

"Ieiri!" you scolded, frowning at her choice of words. 

She scoffed with a shrug before she linked your arms in hers and started walking toward the cafe. You had no idea what she had against Hiroto. He was the most popular guy in your university, and he was the one everyone wanted to be with, but it came as a surprise when he chose you. He had eyes for you, and you couldn't understand why anyone would want you of all people so he asked you out one day and you didn't have the heart to say no. Even if you had liked him at the time, which you didn’t, you still couldn't have said no, it would have been an opportunity wasted. He wasn’t the nicest guy but you would say he treated you well so you defended him every time.

“I still don't understand what you see in him.”

You smiled faintly, “As much as you doubt him, he really does care about me."

You could tell that Ieiri didn’t approve. She never made her opinion on him a secret, and you don’t expect her to start now. 

She rolled her eyes again and sighed, "Yeah, well you should really find someone better, like a certain someone."

It was your turn to roll your eyes at the thought of who she was referring to: a certain white haired roommate of yours. 

“I hope you’re not trying to suggest who I think you are?” you stated as she gave you a sly smirk before shrugging.

“Have things with Satoru been better?”

You paused, contemplating on how to respond as you both walked into the cafe. You turned your attention to the menu as you stood in line. Your eyes scanned over the pamphlet you received when you walked in as you also looked at the assortment of baked goods and pastries. 

"I still can't quite figure him out." you muttered as you stared at some of the menu items.

Her curiosity was piqued as you said this, already knowing what she would order as she stared at you now. "What's he up to now?" she asked.

When you got to university, you opted to follow your dreams and your heart and while you looked forward to finishing your degree, reaching your dreams and goals was expensive, which was something you had known as a teen. It explained why you had to get a job that definitely does not pay minimum wage and why you had to room with Satoru Gojo, as per Ieiri’s request, just to be able to do what you love.

At first, you had thanked Ieiri for convincing the prestigious Gojo Satoru to be your roommate at the start but when he moved in, you were less than grateful.

Gojo Satoru was a scion of a wealthy and successful family making him the epitome of privilege: rich, handsome, and effortlessly at the top of his class without ever needing to study– he pretty much had everything handed to him on a silver platter. 

The first few months were turbulent, to say the least. Gojo acted like a spoiled prince, which was not surprising, always expecting things to be done for him and showing little regard for your personal space or boundaries. Arguments were frequent and inevitable but you shouldn't be complaining, he was the one paying most of the rent. 

Entitlement dripped from his every pore but then something shifted. With you trying to assert your own space and independence against his behaviour and actions, it was as though he had picked up on your growing frustration and decided to turn over a new leaf or whatever. 

It started with small gestures- he'd clean up after himself, occasionally ask if you needed anything from the store, and even helped out with chores around the apartment. These moments, though rare, caught you off guard. You couldn't help but wonder if it was all an act, a facade he put on simply because you were sharing a living space. Deep down, you were convinced that the 'nice' Gojo was just a pretence to keep the peace.

Yet, there were times when you couldn't ignore the fact that he seemed genuinely concerned about you, though these moments were fleeting– hidden beneath layers of sarcasm and his usual arrogance.

“He is just utterly unpredictable." you sighed as you put a hand over your eyes in frustration.

"Sounds like Satoru." she chuckled.

“I don’t know, it just feels like he’s nice to me because I’m friends with you.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow, a hint of concern in her eyes. "Are you saying he's being fake around you because of our friendship?"

"Yeah, sometimes it feels that way. Like he's just putting on a show."

Shoko's lips pulled into a small frown, her eyebrows knitting together, "That doesn't sound like him at all. Maybe he's just trying to be friends with you."

You had been so focused on the topic at hand, you hadn't realised you were at the front of the line.

You shrugged, "It's probably nothing.”

"Stop thinking about Satoru, you’re holding up the line." she scoffed as she smiled at the cashier.

You gave the worker an apologetic smile before turning to the person behind you, "Sorry, about that."

After ordering your favourite drink and some pastries, you approached a small table to sit. “I don’t know. I mean I guess Gojo and I are friends but still, I’m a bit suspicious.”

“I don’t think he would do something like that for my sake.”

"It just feels like you're trying to get him on my good side, I wonder why that is." you hummed with a tilt of your head, raising your brows at her.

"I think my best friend just deserves someone better." she shrugged with a pout.

"And Gojo is 'someone better'?" you scoffed.

Her hesitance was telling and you could see the gears shifting in her head, "That's like asking if apple juice is better than orange juice."

You rolled your eyes at her and looked around the café. The coffee beans alongside the soft humming of the machine, muffled speaking, jazz that played through the speakers really defined the atmosphere. Perhaps this place would become a regular study spot if they nailed just how you liked your drinks. 

“Thank you for coming with me by the way.”

“No problem.”

You had a small smile on your lips as Ieiri decided to fold the receipt she had in her hand into origami, your eyes leisurely scanned over the cafe's charming layout but then, as fate would have it, your heart suddenly felt like it had been gripped by an icy hand, causing it to skip a beat.

The cafe that once felt spacious now seemed to shrink around you, constricting your senses. Your gaze, once idly roaming the room, had fixated on an all-too-familiar figure.

There, amidst the warm, cosy ambiance of the cafe, sat Hiroto. He was not alone. He was sitting across from another girl, their faces close. A rare smile was etched across his features, who was she to be able to make him look at her like that? He had never looked at you that way… 

Maybe it was a friend?

Ieiri, perceptive as ever, noticed the abrupt change in your expression. Her eyes followed your gaze instinctively, and when she locked onto what you were seeing, her face transformed from one of carefree enjoyment to sheer disbelief and anger. 

Their smiles were flirtatious and you could feel the creeping feeling of fear settle in your bones.

They were completely engrossed in each other, oblivious to the world around them as they leaned in for a kiss. Definitely not a friend.

Ieiri was right. He was a scumbag.

Your mind couldn't quite grasp what was unfolding before your eyes, reality not even seeming real for a second.

Confrontation was the last thing on your mind. You didn't want to cause a scene, not here, not now, even if every fibre of your being screamed for justice.

Shoko's fingers tightened around her origami creation, crumpling it as her anger flared up. Her eyes locked onto the two with an intensity that could have scorched the room. 

She had always been vocal about her disdain for him, and this seemed like the perfect moment to let it all out. Without hesitation, Shoko started to push her chair back, her intention clear: she was going to confront Hiroto, give him a piece of her mind, and let the whole café know about his deceit. To berate him for everything he did to you, everything he did that you were too blind to see. You sat there in silence, your heart heavy with disbelief and betrayal but instinctively your hand reached out for hers. You shook your head ever so slightly, silently pleading with her not to make a scene.

“We can't just let him get away with this." she whispered back, her frustration growing by the minute.

Shoko's anger was palpable, and her lips quivered with the words she wanted to unleash but she respected your unspoken plea, if only for now, and reluctantly sank back into her chair waiting for your order number to be called out. Once you received the drinks and pastries, the two of you continued walking back to your shared apartment, the weight of the situation heavy on your mind as a tear slipped from your eyes. You had no goddamn appetite now.

The evening had taken an unsettling turn for you. After returning from a troubling encounter at the café that you wished you could just forget, you found yourself back in your cosy apartment that you shared with the Satoru Gojo, the most popular boy on campus.

As you pushed off your shoes and set them by the door, you overheard some of Gojo's friends chatting in the main area. Forcing a smile, you greeted the people in the room as Ieiri followed behind you, making her presence known as she greeted them as well. You placed the bag of pastries on the table, knowing that for certain, Gojo would inhale them when he got his hands on them.

“Hey, do you have a smoke?” Geto asked Ieiri as he looked over his shoulder. Next thing you knew, Geto had moved to sit across from you at the island counter while you sipped at your glass of water, mind wandering back to your jerk of a boyfriend. “How are you?” he inquired, patiently waiting for your response.

“I’m alright, thanks,” you mumbled, trying to muster a genuine smile in response to his concern. 

Geto waved a hand in front of your face as your thoughts drifted. Suddenly, you were locked into eye contact with him. Leaning down to eye level, he asked, “You sure you’re okay? You look a bit tired,” a playful chuckle escaping his lips.

You sighed a little before shaking your head resolutely, “Just had a terrible fucking week.”

Geto chuckled, “Tell me about it.” he scoffed, commiserating with your struggles. Although he didn’t know the full story, it didn’t matter, you were seen for a second and it felt good, "I swear they have it out for us."

Ieiri was best friends with both Gojo and Geto in high school. You never really understood their dynamic at all but the brief interactions shared with Geto had been enough for you to come up with a comprehensive answer. 

Many people around had said that Geto was like the sun personified, radiating this warmth and light wherever he went. His presence had an undeniable magnetic quality, drawing people toward him but he could leave an indelible mark on anyone in his presence. It was quite possible that what was true, made you smile a little.

Gojo's friends continued their lively chatter, sharing stories and laughter and it wasn’t until you heard the tap turn on that you realised Gojo is standing right next to you drinking water aswell.

“Hey. You smoking or what? I don’t have all day, Suguru,” Shoko chimed in, her voice cutting through the conversation.

“That shit will kill you one day Suguru.” he muttered next to you.

“Funny. You said the same thing to me today.” Ieiri commented and you could feel all their gazes land on you.

“I guess we’re a lot alike.” Gojo joked and you feel yourself smile at his words as Geto and Shoko shared a look.

Geto cleared his throat, a hand coming up to your shoulder, “Things will get better, I promise.” he smiled as both he and Shoko exited the apartment for their smoke.

The atmosphere inside the apartment shifted slightly as you were left alone in the kitchen with Gojo.

“What was that about?” he spoke, regarding the comment that Geto had just made. 

You turned your attention to Gojo and shook your head dismissively, “It’s nothing.”

“You sure? You can talk to me, you know?”

“I know,” you nodded, “It’s nothing, really.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” he took another sip of his water. 

You paused for a moment, “If I knew you had guests over, I would've brought them some as well.” you stated, pointing at the pastries from the café in the bag.

Gojo raised an eyebrow with a smirk. "So those pastries are for me?" he inquired, his playful tone evident.

"Don't push it." you scoffed, your heart warming at his teasing for just a second. There is suddenly a nagging feeling that tells you he is just being nice to you due to the circumstances.

You clear your throat as you tear your gaze away from him, "Are your friends staying for dinner? If they are, I might skip."  You weren’t exactly feeling like yourself, and would rather not be spending time around people you hardly knew. You were just getting warmed up to the man next to you anyways.

“They’re not staying over. Even if they were, I don't really encourage skipping meals.” Gojo replied, his tone shifting between genuine concern and playfulness.

You can’t even force yourself to smile at his concern, you wanted to keep the discussion going, but your recent experience at the café had left you feeling on edge. "I guess I’ll see you at dinner then." you teased, your playful tone masking the underlying curiosity you had about his intentions. Did he truly want to be friends with you or was he doing it just out of pity? 

He nodded at you and you retreated back into your room to grab some clothes but the voices of his friends drifted into your ears.

“Was that Hiroto’s girlfriend?”

“Yeah.” you heard the familiar white haired boy reply.

Their conversation had been about you, and you knew it. Trying to push yourself to stop them from eavesdropping, you shook your head and continued at finding some comfortable clothes for tonight. You needed to do something to take your mind off the events from earlier.

"Wait, seriously? I thought he was dating someone else."

Their words cast a shadow over your thoughts and only amplified your bad mood. You clenched your fists, trying to push down the mixture of anger and hurt.

“I don’t know how she’s still with him.”

The weight of their judgement had hit you harder than ever, especially after what you had witnessed earlier. As you contemplated confronting them about it, you could hear the hushed murmurs growing louder, escalating your frustration as a couple of voices interject. 

“She’s kind of pathetic. Don’t you think so?”

You weren't ready to hear them belittle you any further, so you decided to retreat to the sanctuary of the shower, hoping the water would wash away the bitterness. 

You turned on the water, stepping into the shower trying to drown out the sound of their voices echoing in your head. You wished you hadn't noticed how little effort Gojo made to defend you. Perhaps you were wrong to think the two of you were friends to begin with and considering his track record, maybe you shouldn’t have been so lenient to think he was different.

As you emerged from the shower, refreshed but still vulnerable, you were in the confines of your room as you messaged Shoko about what had happened. You knew she would give her a piece of her mind when she saw him next. You laid in bed, letting out some breaths steadying your heartrate as you heard Gojo call for you from outside your door. You weren't prepared for this, not after what you just heard between him and his friends.

With your emotions still raw and your nerves on edge, you slowly opened the door to find Gojo standing there, his usual confident demeanour softened.

His presence in the dimly lit hallway was both comforting and disconcerting. You met his gaze, your eyes holding a mixture of anxiety and frustration.

Gojo's voice was gentle but laced with concern as he spoke, "I sent my friends home.”

You nodded, not even bringing it in yourself to even berate him for being an absolute asshole to you when he thought you weren’t listening.

“I noticed you've been quiet since you got home. Is everything okay? Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?"

Your emotions, a turbulent whirlwind of hurt and anger, surged within you. With a deep breath, you finally found your voice, but your words came out sharp and accusatory, "I don't appreciate it Gojo," you began, your tone wavering but determined, "I know what you and your friends say about me when you think I'm not listening."

Gojo's brows furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about," you continued, your voice quivering with anger.

You could see Gojo's expression shift from confusion to realisation, and a pang of regret flickered in his eyes. His usually playful demeanour had vanished, replaced by a sombre and sincere expression.

"I'm sorry," he finally whispered, his voice sincere but unsure of how to proceed.

You felt tears well up in your eyes replaying the pain of your boyfriend cheating on you and the callous things they said behind your back. The disappointment of his apology settled in- he’s only sorry because he got caught. 

“That was the last thing I expected from you.” you spat out. "I thought…” you let out a deep breath, your words hanging with every ounce of pain that you’d felt today. You shook your head as you continued, “I thought we were friends."

"We are." he declared, his eyes wavering now. With guilt or concern, you couldn't tell but you knew he didn't really care.

"We're not." you emphasised, still burning with the fury of all the events that transpired today. "Every day, I see you look at me with those eyes that say how pathetic you think I look."

Gojo's brow furrowed in frustration with himself. He wanted to say the right words, to offer comfort, but he struggled to find them. He stepped a little closer, his hands outstretched towards you. You stepped back, your heart pounding erratically, and he instantly retreated.

“You have no idea how much it hurts but I guess I shouldn’t have trusted you to begin with.”

Without giving him a chance to speak, you shut the door with trembling hands. You felt a thud against the door on the opposite end and you could hear him muttered a few curse words as you slid down the surface defeatedly.

His face that was etched with guilt and regret. That look was embedded in your head as you let the tears slip down your face. He gave a resigned sigh before turning away and trudging off towards the kitchen to make dinner– alone.

You stayed in your room until you heard the door to his room close after a couple hours of distracting yourself: with studying, messaging Shoko how much you hated Gojo, and cleaning your room. Retreating from your bedroom as quietly as you can, you see a plate of food he made for you wrapped up with a small post it note on your favourite drink next to it.

I know you're still mad at me, but I hope you don’t skip dinner. Eat well, you'll need the strength... ᕙ(‾̀◡‾́)ᕗ

You scoffed at his note, scrunching it up, putting it in your pocket. It was all just lip-service.

As you sat there alone, your eyes welled up with tears, and you could feel your composure slipping away. The weight of the day became too much to bear. Your heart ached, the hurt and betrayal coursing through you as you sobbed softly.

What a terrible fucking week.

tags! @stsgluver @pandoraium @cottonheadedninnymugggins @satoryaa @bbyxxm @itsthemodelinme @sattosugu

notes. this is not proofread. i don't think the last half of this is as good but... we move!!! i'm sick and wanted to give back with the first chapter since i have some free time to write now <3 it gets better i promise, please comment and give me some love (or feedback), thank you :)

[tinkerleaf]

Drunken Ballads

This one is so funny to me. Don't judge me for the song choice, I've been blasting it for days. Synopsis: reader gets tipsy, dazai and chuuya to the rescue Genre: comedy? Words: 675 Pairing: dazai/reader/chuuya Warnings: cursing, a little suggestive, alcohol

The Armed Detective Agency didn’t allow you to drink too often, and there was a reason for that. There’s a story that the office tells the newbies before they get carried away, just to keep them from acting out the way you did one special night.

After a particularly hard mission, you felt you needed a little something to relieve the tension you felt. You decided to go to a nice bar that offered cute little cocktails because you deserved it. It had been a rough week for you, and nothing hits the spot better than getting drunk.

At the time, you had only meant to get a little buzzed. Unfortunately, you were wasted.

Something that this bar was known for was its large stage for karaoke and other forms of live music. There was a dancefloor in front of it, and behind that stood a plethora of couches and tables. Lots of people were there, it was quite popular.

This was the first time you had ever been to this club, and you failed to consider who owned it. Some of the Port Mafia members were scattered throughout the place, but you wouldn’t have realized it anyway due to your condition.

A certain redhead placed himself in a black leather chair at the opposite end of the room. He didn’t know you were there yet, but it wouldn’t be long before he did. He sipped on the last bit of his wine, and before calling someone to fill his glass, he choked. He almost dropped it when he saw you on the stage, singing “…Baby One More Time” (specifically the Tenacious D version).

“No fucking way…” He couldn’t lie, you were doing great, but you were certainly drunk out of your mind.

“Hey boss, isn’t that-”

“Nope.” He lied. He knew this would be awful for your image if people realized who you worked for.

The mafioso didn’t respond, other than to roll his eyes.

Halfway through your little “performance”, Chuuya reluctantly dialed a number he hadn’t rung in a while.

There wasn’t an answer. Instead, he finds Dazai walking up to him with a smug look on his face. “They sure know how to put on a show, huh?”

“The crowd’s loving it.” He glances over to his former partner, “Apparently so are you.”

“Oh, shut up. I’m just waiting for them to fall off the stage.”

“You didn’t have to call me by the way. I already knew about their after-work plans, but I had no idea it would be this entertaining.”

When you finally made eye contact with the two, you knew you were in trouble. You quickly stumbled down the side stairs and attempted to escape without them noticing. This was an awful plan, however. Your current state was equivalent to a fawn, wobbling to keep balance.

A strong arm pulled you close. “Where do you think you’re going like that?” Chuuya asked. “You can barely walk!” His cologne was intoxicating.

“You’re so handsome…” You slurred quietly.

“Damn, they really are wasted,” Dazai retorted, earning a scoff from the other man. He moved some of your hair from your face, “Guess it’s time you come back with me, sweetheart.”

You smiled, “You both can take me home.” Dazai laughed, while Chuuya’s eyes widened.

“Get them out of here. Make sure they get home safe.”

“Of course.”

The rest of the night was a blur. All you could remember was Dazai taking you back to your apartment and then waking up in your bed the next morning. He left a note on your nightstand, along with a glass of water and some painkillers.

Upon walking into the office later, you had a serious migraine. You couldn’t afford to stay home, however, due to the massive amount of paperwork you had to fill out from the last case.

Sitting at your desk, Dazai had quite a smirk on his face. “How you feelin’?”

You held your palm at him. “I don’t want to hear it from you right now.”

[adviceformefromme]

💖 YOUR WEEK 16 - GLOW UP SERIES [PRE-2025] 💖

We are officially 16 weeks (110 days) until 2025. If you missed the post last week, go check it out as that was the warm up, setting the vision for the life you WILL be creating for your 16-Week Reinvention. 

This week is all about getting aligned with your values, so you can truly begin to that juicy life you dream of. Understanding and operating from your values is a huge step in your glow-up journey because much of the stress, anxiety, depression in your life is directly correlated to your daily choices, each time you go against your values. 

The guidance… 

You’re putting a MINIMUM of 30 mins to 3 hours aside for your self-growth-reflection-and-development each week. This is going to be your opportunity to light a candle, pull out your cute new journal and pen and actually pour into your dreams and future in this little self-growth session. 

Journal Exercise: You want to think about what you value in life, what type of lifestyle you value, what type of relationship you value, for example; maybe you’re more traditional so the 50/50 guy you’re dating is a complete waste of time because you don’t have aligned values. Maybe you absolutely hate being in offices as you’re naturally introverted and love being alone, so your chosen career in events management is not in line with your values because you actually know in your heart you value peace and working alone. Maybe you value your health, but the drinking and occasional dabble in drugs is making you feel icky in your soul, because you are not living in alignment with your truth. Just taking the time to reflect on this is going to set you ahead of the crowd, because you’re going to see clearly how you’ve chosen a life that lives in accordance with others values, not your own and this blocks your blessings! 

RELATIONSHIPS (ROMANTIC, FRIENDSHIPS, FAMILY )

FINANCES 

PURPOSE/ CAREER

LIFESTYLE

HEALTH 

SPIRITUALITY 

In each of these areas, think about what dynamics you value. Beware of the conditions set in place by society and family, and really lean into what is true to you. Think of VALUE. What do you VALUE in these areas? What resonates in your heart? 

My personal experience was that I created an entire lifestyle that was so far removed from the life I valued. Working from home in my shoebox prison apartment with a window facing a mouldy wall, day-in-day-out, when I truly valued nature, and being by the ocean and witnessing the sunrise and set. I valued high quality connections, but entertained friendships that added absolutely no value to my life. I ate at overpriced and poorly nourished restaurants when I value my money and also my health, but I would instead drink cocktails and nibble small plates spiking my hormones and feel completely drained the next day. And so I began to make shifts…it started with nourishing home cooked meals and hosting mini dinner parties over eating out. I decided to move overseas, and only live in an apartment that was ocean view, because I absolutely value seeing the sun rise and set each day. I deleted instagram because I value my time, and this was a time thief! I began investing more into my image, because I value looking and feeling my best....the list goes on but you get the picture. When you move your life towards what you value, you’ll start to feel a DEEP peace in your soul and this is NECESSARY for your glow-up, your re-invention. Yes it’s scary, yes some people might hate you, judge you and also the rest of it, but this is your movie. ~You get to create the life you dream of and it starts with you, choosing to live in alignment of your soul, and this is how things magically start coming together and falling into place because you are now in flow.

So once you are clear on what’s what. You are going to practise for this week the FUCK NO approach. And that is, unless it’s a fuck yes (you will feel this in your soul), the answer is FUCK NO. Start saying no. To people. To invites that you are not super excited about. To the book you are reading but actually cannot bare to read anymore. The iced latte that gives you the shakes. The situationship that is literally draining the life out of you. The exhausting phone calls from the relatives you feel obligated to speak to. And side note. There are no FUCKING OBLIGATIONS. You are not obligated to do anything that compromises your energy, your flow, your happiness, your joy. Cut, delete, block, ignore, reject. PROTECT YOUR ENERGY. 

To summarise. 110 days until 2025, (16-weeks) to glow-the-fuck-up-like-never-before. So no sleeping on yourself. Every single day counts. Reflect on your values, shift your life in the direction of your truth. Start saying no. 

[gojo-mochi]

٩( ‘ω’ )و Thoughts about dressing slutty with Gojo

You twirl around in front of the mirror, quietly admiring your outfit choice for tonight. Something simple but cute. A nice crop top paired with a pleated skirt that spins around nicely when you twirl.

Satoru catches you in the middle of twirling and takes your hands above your head and kept on spinning you round and round.

“A-ah! Satoru! I’m gonna be siiiiiick!”

He chuckles at your whining and stops you, making you collapse back into his chest, arms squeezing around your waist. Trapping you in his hold, still in front of the mirror. His hands played around with your stomach, enjoying the feeling of skin in skin.

You take a look at his face in the mirror, brilliant blue eyes perched above his sunglasses, staring right at your figure. He tilts his head, to the left, to the right, and back to the left again. Like he was judging something. You wondered if the outfit wasn’t to his liking somehow.

“I can go change into something else..”

You bit your lips, watching Satoru hums softly at your suggestion.

He tugs at your crop top, rolling the fabric between his fingers.

“Don’t get me wrong it’s cute on you. Heh, anything cute on you. But….”

He trails off, sneaking a hand down your hips and under your skirt. You slap his hand away with a pout.

“Satoru! Just say it already!”

He retracts his hand and laughs out loud this time.

“Just wanted to ask if you could wear something sluttier tonight. Don’t worry though, I can join you! I have a pair of booty shorts and a mesh crop top that looks absolutely fucking delicious on me.”

You stared at him deadpan for a while.

“You want me.. to dress sluttier?”

Satoru just squeezes your waist in reply, hugging you from behind and slowly rocking you back and forth.

“Mmhm! I feel like fighting tonight and I want to beat the shit out of anyone that comes up to you. Though if you’re not comfortable, I could be the slutty one tonight and you beat up people for me~”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at your boyfriend.

“You’re such a handful sometimes…” You sigh out, you tried to wiggle out of his hold to go change.

“Satoru, you’re gonna have to let me go if you want us both to changed. I’m sure Shoko and the others are still waiting for us.”

Satoru’s hands finds themselves under your clothes again, this time wasting no time at grope at your soft flesh. You struggle harder only to find yourself pushing back against his hard on.

He leans in to whisper huskily in your ear.

“What the rush? I could help you get out of these clothes myself~”

•

•

•

[whatamessofthoughtswithjess]

I’d like to talk about my experience with being a part of a fandom. It’s something I’ve never been involved in before. It’s something I’ll never be a part of again going forward. This is all my opinion, my thoughts, and my experience. I’ll remind you that you do not have to agree with what I say but, I do ask for you to be respectful of my space, & keep the hate out of my comment section.

Let’s discuss toxic behavior amongst fandoms, shall we?

I, myself had never been a part of a fandom until recently, therefore I was unaware of parasocial behaviors. I must say that witnessing this sort of behavior has been quite an experience. One in which I could have went my entire life without learning about & I would have been A okay with that. 😅

I’ve always been a fan of Bridgerton. I began watching the show during the COVID lockdown & I immediately fell in love with the series. I was what they in the fandom would describe as a “general audience” watcher. I enjoyed the show immensely but, I wasn’t completely obsessed.

It wasn’t until the season 3 press tour that I became engulfed in the show, the storyline, & by the actors playing the roles of Penelope & Colin. I, amongst thousands of others became completely obsessed. We were completely immersed in the love story that was being sold to us. It became this unhealthy obsession which in turn lead to blurring the lines between fiction and reality.

The Bridgerton fandom, specifically the Lukola/Polin fandom has gone from great fun, excitement, & and a way to escape the hardships of life, to now a toxic atmosphere, full of bullies spreading hate & unrealistic narratives.

I’ve noticed that there are different groups within the fandom. It’s like High School all over again, full of clicks. You’ve got:

1.) Polinators: this group of individuals solely “ships” Penelope Featherington & Colin Bridgerton. Any content made or discussions had are kept within the show & to the characters. Luke Newton & Nicola Coughlan aren’t discussed as they are separate from the characters they play.

2.) Polinators/Lukolas: this group of individuals ship both Penelope & Colin as well as Nicola & Luke. This group will make content for both Polin & Lukola. Most individuals within this group can still separate the characters from the actors. Lines exist but at times become blurred. These individuals are still logical & will accept evidence presented to them. They recognize that storytelling and reality are separate from one other. Typically they can have conversations with others within the fandom without hateful rhetoric or bullying.

3.) LocoLukolas: these individuals have completely morphed Luke & Nicola into Colin & Penelope. They can’t decipher who is who, what is done for PR, or what is reality. The lines aren’t blurred, they are completely erased. These individuals took the PR tour as a real life love story unfolding between Luke & Nicola. They’ve created these elaborate stories and narratives in their minds & fed them to others within their SM platforms. The insane narratives spread like wildfire which in turn creates division within the fandom. Once division is created, bullying & unhinged, creepy behavior begins. There is no arguing with this group. They won’t be told differently from the narrative they’ve created within their minds. They’ll gaslight anyone who tries to go against the narrative they’ve created. They’ll use their platform to push this narrative which in turn creates more individuals thinking the exact same as they do. They can’t be convinced of anything that will go against the narrative they’ve created. These individuals can be very dangerous. Spreading lies and opinion as fact rather than opinion. Gaslighting anyone who doesn’t agree. Don’t waste your time fighting with them. It isn’t worth it.

LukeStans: this group worships Luke Newton. “All hail Luke Newton! He’s our King!” Do not criticize Luke, do not judge his life choices, do not disagree with his decisions, do not speak unkindly about Luke in any sort of way.. or these people will morph into vicious, venomous creatures who will attack you without mercy. Luke does no wrong. He makes no mistakes. He makes no ill choices. He’s perfect. Precious. Needs protected at all costs. These people will also talk all sorts of shit about his girlfriend. Belittle the relationship that him and her have. Encourage cheating with him and Nicola. Disrespect Nicola’s relationship if not with Luke. But.. don’t dare talk bad about Luke. Don’t defend Antonia. Don’t defend Nicola & Jake Dunn.. or be prepared to go to war.

NicolaStans: this group worships NicolaCoughlan. “All hail Nicola Coughlan! She’s our Queen!” Do not criticize Nicola in any sort of manner. Like the LukeStans the NicolaStans will also morph into vicious, venomous creatures that will attack you without mercy. They’ll state they love Nicola but only if she’s pinning after a taken man. They’ll defend Nicola but, only if it’s for reasons that include Luke Newton. They’ll quickly turn on Nicola if you mention her relationship with Jake Dunn. They’ll ask you to respect her privacy all while “manifesting pictures from Brazil” that would show both parties cheating on their significant others. Ope. They’ll turn on her if you even mention the idea that she could be in a serious relationship with a man 13 years younger than her.. insisting that “she would never be so public about her love life” or “she’d never date a man that young.” This group is only fans of Nicola if she abides to the expectations they’ve created for her in their minds.

When I first joined the fandom it was during the press tour. Therefore everyone was riding the high that the PR tour was providing everyone with. New videos were being released every few days. It was fun, exciting, and entertaining for everyone! We were eagerly anticipating the release of season 3. It was happy times, fun times.

Once the press tour ended & part two released the fandom imploded. I’d say exploded but no, it imploded. The fandom is collapsing within itself, quite suddenly, and violently. You’ve got rational fans who understand that Luke & Nic are separate from Colin & Pen and who respect their private lives. You’ve got semi rational fans who understand that they are separate from their characters but still hope they’ll be endgame. You’ve got the LukeStans fighting with the NicolaStans. Then you’ve got the LucoLukolas who are just outright insane. Spreading misinformation and creating elaborate false narratives to keep their already sunken ship afloat. You’ve got recovering Lukolas trying to be some sort of voice of reason.. and it’s all just one big chaotic cluster f**k at this point. The fandom is split. It’s chaos. It’s not fun anymore.

Luke went into hiding because fans are weird AF. He comes back after over a month MIA and the fans are already acting bat shit crazy. Fans were messaging the resort he stayed in, asking who stayed with him, forcing the resort to remove a thank you post to Luke. ABSOLUTE INSANITY! TOXIC BEHAVIOR! The entitlement fans have regarding Luke’s personal life is absolutely disgusting. This man owes the fans nothing. He deserves his privacy. He deserves to spend time with his girlfriend without the bullshit comments on how “he’s yet to claim her” or have his relationship be called a “situationship” only because he’s not made a post on his SM “claiming her” because “he owes the fans that.” Absolutely insane! He owes the fans nothing. If he wants to keep his personal life off his business SM page then we as his fans need to respect that decision. He’s travelled with Antonia multiple times, he’s been papped with her on several occasions, she attends work events with him, vacations with him privately, she’s close with his family and friends, that man HAS CLAIMED HER PUBLICLY. Something as ridiculous as a SM post means nothing when the evidence is already there for all to see. If fans choose to ignore that? That’s on them not on Luke. Stop with the entitlement. It’s weird. He owes you nothing.

Nicola has said over and over again that she is chronically online. She sees the weird shit that’s posted. She sees the lives discussing sunglasses reflections and t shirt creases.. elaborate stories from Brazil that never happened, the belittling of her relationship with Jake Dunn, calling her man gay and claiming he has a boyfriend when this man has NEVER stated his sexuality publicly, she sees this shit. It’s toxic, it’s weird, and it’s sure as hell disrespectful AF especially considering it’s coming from people who claim they are her fans. 🥴 She is posting less & less on social media & I can’t say I blame her. Who wants to have every single thing they post become a 3 hour TikTok live conspiracy theory break down? I sure as hell wouldn’t want that if it were me.

This fandom has got to take a serious step back. If it’s consuming your thoughts, disturbing your mental health, or emotional health then take some time away from SM & spend some time focusing on other things. Read a book, listen to some music, go out with friends or family, spend some time in nature, do whatever you need to do in order to protect yourself from all of the toxicity.

For the love of all things holy.. stop taking the crazy behavior directly to Nicola and Luke & to anyone involved in their lives. We as fans need to remember that these are real life people, with real life lives and loved ones, who like us have feelings and emotions. We need to respect their privacy. They owe us nothing regarding their personal lives. We shouldn’t expect as much. These two gave us such an amazing season. The least we can do is support their choices even if we don’t agree with them. 🫶🏻

Again, these are my opinions & my personal experiences with dealing with people within this fandom. I’ve had my fair share of arguments with people & I’ve been attacked by many who didn’t like the evidence I presented them with that went against their narrative. My experiences are my own. I understand not everyone is toxic in this fandom but, at the same time there are many that are. We as a fandom need to accept what is, let go of what isn’t meant to be, and continue to support Luke & Nicola in all their future endeavors. As their fans, we owe them that much!

Y’all behave yourselves & have a good one! ✌🏻

[shiorimakibawrites]

Favorite Part (Kinktober Day 5)

Personal Masterlist for Kinktober 2023

FlightlessAngelWings’ prompt list can be found here

Day 5 - Threesome

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Frank Castle x AFAB! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 1277

Warnings: Threesome, dirty talk, praise, Dom! Matt, Dom! Frank, vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v sex, voyeurism, masturbation, mild finger play, referenced oral sex (f and m receiving)

Tagging: @flightlessangelwings

Favorite Part

You were sitting on Matt’s lap, your back resting against his torso and your head resting on his shoulder. Your legs were draped over his thighs, allowing him to use his knees to splay your legs wide. Something he used to display your bare cunt to Frank. Who, judging by the bulge in his jeans, appreciated the view.

“Isn’t she beautiful, Frank?” Matt asked, conversationally. Like you weren’t naked. Like he hadn’t just been fingering you. Like your legs weren’t still trembling from the resulting orgasm.

“Yeah, she is, Red,” he answered, his eyes roaming over your body with growing hunger. His voice was already getting husky.

“What’s your favorite part?” Matt asked. He slide his hands from your waist to cup your breasts. You gasped as his fingers pinched the already stiffen nipples. “These gorgeous tits? Or . . .”

One hand left your breast to toy with your clit. Already sensitive from the earlier attention there, you let out a stuttering moan. “Or this pretty pussy?”

“Damn hard choice there, Red.”

“Quite. And I haven’t even mentioned her perky ass or that wonderful mouth yet.”

“Which one is your favorite?”

Matt made a thoughtful noise as he continued to rub your clit. “As you said, it’s very difficult question. I’m very partial to her ass but if I had to choose . . . this pretty pussy might win.”

“Why?”

“Many reasons,” Matt said, thrusting two fingers inside you and earning himself a high-pitched cry. “How delightful she tastes. The melody of sounds she makes. How it feels inside her.”

“Yeah?” Frank said. He had already opened his jeans and was pulling his boxers down to free his cock.

“Nothing like it,” Matt answered, curling his fingers to brush that spongy spot inside you. You panted and squirmed, that familiar pressure already starting to build.

“Careful, sweetheart,” He gently scolded, moving his free hand to grip your thigh and move it back into it’s splayed position. “You don’t want to ruin Frank’s view, do you?”

You frantically shook your head.

He smiled. “That’s my sweet girl.”

“Appreciate it, darling,” Frank said, groaning as his hand wrapped around his cock and he began to stroke himself. “Maybe you should reward her for being such a good girl for us.”

Matt hummed thoughtfully. “I think you are right, Frank. What do you want as reward, sweet girl?”

You moaned. He wanted you to think? Now?!

“Words, sweet girl,” he reminded you as his fingers continued to work. “We need words.”

Your half-lidded eyes landed on Frank’s cock. Big, hard and already leaking . . . you said, “F-Frank.”

“You want Frank?” Matt asked. At your shaky nod, he asked, “That okay with you, Frank?”

“More than okay, Red,” Frank answered, raising to his feet. He pushed his jeans and boxers down to his ankles and stepped out of them. He climbed onto the bed and crawled toward you into he was between your legs. Your eyes never left his cock.

“How do you want from me, darling?” Frank asked. “My fingers? My mouth? Or my dick?”

You didn’t know how to answer that question. All sounded terrific. And Matt’s fingers were making it so hard for you to think about anything else.

“Maybe not fingers,” Matt said. “She’s had fingers twice today. A reward ought be something more.”

“Good point, Red. So which will be, darling? Should I eat you out? Or do you want me to fuck you?”

“A moment, Frank,” Matt said. He withdrew his fingers, ignoring your protesting whine. He held out those fingers. “Maybe you should have a taste first?”

Frank wasted no time in grabbing that hand and engulfing those fingers in his mouth. He moaned, a sound echoed by Matt. The attorney’s cock, just as hard as Frank’s, started grinding against your ass in response to whatever Frank was doing to his fingers.

Forever and all too soon, Frank pulled his mouth off those fingers with an obscene sucking sound.

“Damn, you weren’t kidding about how good she tastes,” he said, licking his lips. He grinned. “Your fingers weren’t bad either, Red.”

“Frank . . . ,” Matt gasped out.

Frank studied him, considering. Then his grin turned smug and a little predatory. “This wrecked from a little finger action, Red? Imagine if I had been doing that to your dick?”

The image your imagination painted had you groaning. Frank flashed you a grin. “Would you like to see that, darling?

You nodded eagerly. Matt laughed, a little breathless still, and patted your thigh. “Not right now, sweet girl. You still haven’t answered Frank’s earlier question. Do you want him to eat you out or fuck you?”

Your head was a little clearer now but it was still a tough question. Judging by what he did to Matt, Frank had a talented mouth. But your cunt clenching around the empty air made the decision for you.

“I want you to fuck me,” you answered.

“Gladly,” he said, gripping the base of his cock. He started to rub it through your folds, coating himself in your slick. The first brush of the head against your clit might have been an accident but the second time certainly wasn’t.

“So wet, darling,” Frank groaned before he positioned himself at your entrance and started to push inside you. You threw your head back against Matt’s shoulder, gasping.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he grunted as he sank in another inch. “She always this tight?”

“Yes,” Matt answered, cupping your breasts and starting to knead them. “It’s one of my favorite things about her pussy. Always needs a moment to adjust to being filled. Always gripes my cock like a vice. She always whines when I withdraw from this pussy. You love being filled, don’t you, sweet girl?”

Your only answer was a warbling moan as Frank bottomed out. Full, you were so full. Matt was the only other man who had ever made you feel so full.

“Answer Red, darling,” Frank said, a note of warning in his voice. He gave you a hard thrust that almost pushed you back to the edge. “Otherwise I’m not moving.”

As promised, he stayed right where he was. He felt so good buried inside you but you needed more. You needed him to fuck you. You whined and tried to fuck yourself on him but Matt gripped your hips. Holding you in place. Keeping you in that limbo of feeling so good but not enough.

“None of that,” Matt growled. “Don’t start being a bad girl. Now answer me and Frank. Tell us how much you love being filled. How much you love being fucked.”

It didn’t take long for desperation to overcome your embarrassment at saying such things. “I love it. Love being filled by your cock. Always want you inside me. Love being fucked. I love it. I love it . . .”

Your litany turned into a keening cry when Frank started thrusting. No building up to it, just immediately fucking you hard. All the while, Matt ground his hard cock against your ass. Your ears were filled with Frank’s grunts, Matt’s softer moans, and your own high-pitched cries.

Probably because you had already been dancing along that edge, you were the first to come. Screaming Frank’s name as your cunt clenched around him earning yourself a beautiful moan from the man. Matt was close behind you, spilling himself all over your ass and back. Another couple hard thrusts, then with a loud groan, Frank was releasing inside you.

“So,” Frank said minutes later, after he got enough breath back to talk. “Whose up for round two?”

[velting]

🍋Lemons & Peaches🍑

Pairings:

🍋Leonardo Luna x Reader x Adam Blake🍑

Context: It's hard bringing in a social gathering when you, yourself don't usually 'social'. Thirsty, you decided to grab a drink at the bar. With a handsome fellow along with it Side Note -> Zenon Martyr is going to be the ALTERNATIVE version of Zenit Saint Petersburg in Russia football team.

Inhales......... exhale.........

She couldn't believe she was here, a place so big at a social gathering for anyone over the influence. Surprised she was invited to begin with. 

Such an atrocious thing she could ever do is be invited to some sort of social gathering. Admitted she wasn’t as expressional when attending but her manager said it would be good for socialization. Despite her manager’s words, she agreed to go, but if things begin to not go to her liking, then she can go back to her private room that she booked, to her she didn’t know what the reason was to host such a social gathering. Some are for charity work or famous people just show off their wealth and status, it just left a bad taste on her tongue.

But whatever I guess, she’s here so why not made the most of it. Social gathering or not, she’s not one to publicly speak her mind out on whatever. She knows how people see her as, and she’s not going to risk her pride being ruined by entitlement in her life. Best to keep a low profile and make herself nonexistent. Better safe than sorry is always the best option.

Her choice of clothing was something she didn’t think of, not one bit. Damn her manager for making her wear something so eye-catching and expensive. She wore a red mermaid tail dress with golden trimmed on the side, black laced sleeves that met her forearms, beaded pearls at the trim of her dress accompanied with roses, including her chest area with a silver brooch, to top it all off with a black laced neck choker that accommodated with earrings and make up for it to make it look unique. 

[Here is your➩ Dress]

Here she told herself not to attract attention and now the majority of people are looking at her, murmuring amongst themselves to figure out who this woman with such a cold expression and a beautiful dress could be. Truth be told she never wore something so extravagant and pricey but it’s Her’s now.  Well, she was indeed rich from making more figures than any of the female football players in her country, but she never spends it on any needs, seeing that money doesn’t bring her happiness in her eyes. 

“Who is that?!”

“She looks like a model!”

“Could she be one of the CEO's wives?!”

“No chance. She doesn’t have a ring on her!”

“She looks way too serious, not my type of woman.”

Murmurs after murmurs. It was endless from the amount of attention she’s receiving, when will this torture end? She felt uncomfortable by the many stares, judging her every move, but she had to keep it professional level, and can't let anyone think of her being easy. Keep her head held high and relax. Don’t let them think of her anything different.

She takes a deep breath from it all and exhales. What was the point of coming here again? It’s already wasting her precious time, and it was too crowded, loud noises, too much chatter, a room flooded with an obnoxious scent coming from everyone. It made her nostrils burn from sickness. 

“So many useless people for useless reasons. I shouldn’t have come here.” She grumbled under her breath. Her eyes scanned the area and noticed a juice bar not too far, maybe a drink could calm her nerves. Not too sweet or anything spicy that could burn her throat. Yeah, a drink sounds nice. Her heels clicked on the marble floor as she made her way to the mar where the bartender was doing his duties.

When she counters the bartender took notice of her presents. Smiling, he offered his help to the girl. “Well, hello there miss, is there anything you might like?” He asked in a cherry tone. [Name] took notice of his aloof and fine features. She nodded to his answer. “Da, can you make something not too sweet, and not too spicy if that’s possible?” She asked him.

The genre's bartender nodded at her request. “Sure things miss! Happy to oblige! Wait here for a moment!” He spoke happily. [Name] waited for a moment for her drink. It wasn’t long before her drink was severed. She thanked the bartender and looked at her drink…. From the color and fruit that was sliced and placed upon the edge of a cup.

From the instant she saw the cup she knew this drink was……

Lemons

The fruit garnish was a delightful touch to her drink, adding a splash of color to the already inviting glass. She brought it to her lips, savoring the moment as she took a small sip. The liquid flowed over her tongue, revealing a rich tapestry of flavors that danced around her taste buds. It was far from the overly sweet concoction the bartender had described; instead, it offered a complex blend that was both refreshing and intriguing. As she took another sip, she felt a momentary sense of pleasure, a brief escape from the chaotic atmosphere surrounding her.

But that feeling was short-lived. An unsettling sensation churned in the pit of her stomach, urging her to find a quieter space away from the prying eyes of the crowd. With a resigned sigh, she set down her glass and began to weave her way through the throng, seeking a secluded corner where she could gather her thoughts and let the tension slip away. 

Just as she turned a corner, she collided with a man who had suddenly appeared in her path, his attention absorbed by his phone. The impact startled her, and in a moment of unfortunate miscalculation, she felt her drink splash over the front of his blazer. She cursed under her breath, frustration bubbling to the surface as she watched the surprise morph into fury on his face.

“WHAT THE?! YOU BITCH! YOU JUST RUINED MY TUX!” he exclaimed, his voice a harsh bark that reverberated through the air. He pointed an accusatory finger at her, and she felt her blood boil at the injustice of it all. It wasn’t her fault he was so engrossed in his phone that he failed to notice the world around him.

“HUH?! AREN’T YOU GOING TO SAY SOMETHING?! OR ARE YOU GOING TO PAY UP?!” He stepped closer, invading her space with an aggressive demeanor. [Name] glared at him, the bubbling anger within her urging her to defend herself. The mounting attention from onlookers only intensified her discomfort, and she knew she had to stand her ground.

“It vwasn’t my fault you vwere foolish enough to be distracted. You have eyes, don’t you? Use them. And don’t call me a bitch; it’s disrespectful,” she replied, her voice steady and calm, though her heart raced. Yet, her words only served to infuriate him further. An angry vein throbbed on his forehead, and she could see the rage igniting in his eyes.

“OH! YOU BITCH!” he shouted, his fists clenching tightly as he took a step closer, ready to escalate the situation. “YOU THINK YOU CAN TALK TO ME LIKE THAT!” His fist flew toward her, and instinct kicked in. [Name] was prepared to catch his fist and twist it, ready to teach him a lesson about respect.

Before she could react, a strong hand shot out from the crowd, intercepting the fist that had been aimed just inches from her face. The sudden intervention stunned everyone, including [Name], who looked up in surprise at the man who had bravely stepped in to protect her. The atmosphere shifted dramatically, tension crackling like electricity as onlookers held their breath, anticipating how the confrontation would unfold.

“Why don’t we just pause here and avoid drawing any more attention to ourselves?” His voice carried a hint of mischief, and his vivid green eyes locked onto the aggressor. Meanwhile, his other hand remained securely wrapped around [Name]'s shoulder, a silent promise of protection. [Name] was not one to enjoy company, nor did she appreciate unsolicited interventions. Yet, she felt a flicker of gratitude towards him for stepping in; without his timely action, the situation could have escalated dangerously.

“Thank you, but I didn’t need saving,” she asserted, her tone firm yet laced with an undercurrent of uncertainty. The man merely scratched the back of his head, seemingly unfazed by her words. 

“Hah! If it weren’t for me, that guy would have landed a punch on you ages ago!” He flashed a confident smile, but [Name] found little comfort in his bravado. She still felt that his interference was unwarranted, a breach of her personal space and autonomy.

“Didn’t catch your name?” he continued; his interest unabated. “Names Leonardo Luna. What could a pretty lady like yourself be doing here unattended?” He extended his hand toward her, a gesture both charming and bold. Flattered despite herself, [Name] hesitantly placed her hand in his.

“How flattering, the name’s [Name] Bogdanova,” she replied, her voice steady yet cool. Leonardo's smile widened as he leaned forward to kiss her gloved hand, an old-fashioned gesture that caught her slightly off guard. “The Russian player? Hear great things about you.”

[Name]'s eyes widened in surprise; his recognition of her name was unexpected. “You know vwho I am?” she asked, incredulity coloring her tone. He nodded in affirmation, his expression one of amused confidence.

“Indeed! I’m surprised to say you didn’t know I am,” he teased, but [Name] furrowed her brows. “I do recognize vwho you are. I don’t have to announce my name or your profession to know,” she replied, lifting her champagne glass to her lips for a few sips, trying to regain composure.

“Wow, no wonder they call you the cold player! Do you always look at everyone like that, or were you just born that way?” he casually quipped, his tone light yet probing. [Name] swirled her drink in her cup, her gaze unwavering. “Not as flattering as they say you are, or are you just born that vway?” she shot back, a hint of defiance in her voice.

“Wow, it seems like the tigress can bite back! My kind of style!” he exclaimed, clearly enjoying the banter. “How about we take this somewhere a bit quieter, like the balcony?” He extended his hand, inviting her to join him. [Name] hesitated, skepticism clouding her mind, but curiosity got the better of her, and she took his hand, allowing him to lead her through the bustling crowd.

They walked for a few minutes, finally reaching the balcony, where they stood high above the busy night streets, the city’s lights twinkling like stars below. Leonardo leaned back against the railing, tilting his head to admire the full moon that hung in the sky, its glow illuminating the night. “The moon’s beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” he asked, glancing at her with a playful smile. [Name] simply hummed in approval, her gaze fixed on the streets below, lost in thought.

Noticing her silence, Leonardo's expression shifted to concern. “Hey, is everything okay?” He reached out, placing a gentle hand on her bare shoulder. She shuddered slightly at the touch, slowly turning her gaze to meet his. “It’s fine, really. I’m just not used to gatherings or having conversations this long with anyone. I might just bore you vwith my presence,” she admitted, her voice soft and vulnerable, still avoiding his eyes as her thoughts swirled in her mind.

Leonardo smiled, sensing her words of genuine who She spoke. “Well, you've come all this way have you not? This night might not be for you. why not enjoy our last Night together” holding up his champagne glass for her to toast. [Name] felt slightly better and smiled from his statement.  lifting her champagne glass up for it to clink together with a toast. 

“Our Last night together” She announced. After that they drank Their champagne and watched the sky together. Leonardo bringing her closer to set the mood. To her she felt relieved that this night wasn't as disastrous as she expected.  At least she had company for her to indulge.

Maybe Lemons weren't so bad after all. 

Peaches

Peaches had never been her go-to fruit, yet the exquisite thought of them lingered on her palate, each sip of champagne accentuating their delicate flavor. The effervescence danced around her senses, and she found herself reaching for her glass more frequently, captivated by the unexpected harmony of the peach-infused beverage. It was a delightful surprise, far surpassing her expectations—outstanding, even.

As she savored the drink, her mind drifted into a world of her own, blissfully unaware of the soft murmurs that floated around the room, creating a subtle hum of intrigue. 

"That woman there is [Name] Bogdanova! She's the Russian football player for Zenon Martyr!!"

The name sparked immediate interest in a certain Englishman, who was perched at the bar, swirling the rich red wine in his glass. His ears pricked up at the mention of her name, and he couldn't help but mutter, "Russian player?" under his breath, his gaze fixated on the striking woman who was leisurely sipping her champagne, the golden bubbles catching the light.

"Yeah, but some say she's hard to talk to or hard to get. No one really wooed her over!" one of the gossipers chimed in, their voice laced with a mix of admiration and disbelief.

This revelation intrigued the Englishman even more. The idea of a woman so elusive, yet undeniably captivating, stirred something within him. He was used to getting what he wanted, and the challenge of winning over a woman like [Name] only intensified his interest. He was determined to learn more about this enigmatic figure who seemed to be beyond reach. 

Just then, as if the universe conspired in his favor, a bold intruder decided to breach [Name]'s personal space. The Englishman’s heart raced with excitement—this was the moment he had been waiting for. With a well-timed approach, he knew he had a golden opportunity to make his move. Bingo. Now was his chance.

[Name] was minding her own business as always, skillfully navigating the crowded room with a practiced ease that kept prying eyes at bay. She preferred to be an observer, soaking in the atmosphere without becoming part of the spectacle. That was until a drunken lout stumbled into her personal space, making a bold and unwelcome move.

“Whoa! Didn’t expect a hottie like you could *hic* be so cold? I was just trying to get to know ya!” His absurdly slurred words and the overwhelming stench of alcohol made [Name’s] nose wrinkle in disgust. Everything about him—the disheveled hair, the obnoxious laughter, and the careless bravado—made her stomach churn. She attempted to ignore him, focusing intently on the flickering candle on the table beside her, willing him to disappear.

“Aww *hic* Did I scare ya? You don't have to be afraid—”

“Please refrain from making skin contact vwith me; I'm in no mood for petty talk.” She shot back, her voice low and firm as she noticed his hand inching toward her shoulder. The man merely chuckled, dismissing her warning with a drunken snicker as he leaned closer, clearly intent on tormenting her further.

“What?! Are you looking down on me? I'm just trying to lighten the mood!” Just as his fingers were mere centimeters from her shoulder, a firm hand seized his wrist in a vice-like grip that made him yelp in pain. He turned, eyes wide, to see the intruder: it was the Englishman from before, his expression dark and menacing, eyes glinting with fury.

“She said to refrain from touching her. Are you deaf?” he snarled; his voice laced with an intimidating authority. [Name] couldn't help but find amusement in the scene unfolding before her, a smirk tugging at her lips as she recognized the man standing up for her. She knew who he was, Adam Blake, a well-known football player, and while she appreciated his intervention, she wasn’t keen on him making a scene.

“Now scram, you bigot insect,” he commanded, shoving the man away, who quivered and staggered off, muttering under his breath. 

“I appreciate your help, but it vwas not needed,” [Name] began as she turned to walk away, but Adam wasn’t having any of it. He reached out, grabbing her wrist gently but firmly, stopping her in her tracks.

“How about a thank you? That would be nice,” he said with a hint of playful challenge in his tone. [Name] turned back to meet his gaze, weighing her words. He had indeed solved the problem, so perhaps a small compliment wouldn’t hurt—after all, that’s what guys like, right?

“Even though you invaded my personal space and caused a scene in front of others, it vwas foolish to do so… but I do have to thank you for stepping up. It vwas charming of you, Adam Blake.” She took a delicate sip of her champagne, watching as a smirk appeared on his face, clearly flattered by her words.

Feeling a surge of confidence, he took her hand, leading her away from the bustling crowd towards a more secluded area of the venue. [Name] was surprised but went along with him, curious about where he was taking her. After a short walk, they found themselves in a tranquil garden, far removed from the noise and chaos of the party. The fresh air was a welcome change, the gentle rustle of leaves providing a soothing backdrop.

Adam guided her to a bench and sat down next to her. [Name] felt a blush creep onto her cheeks as she sipped her champagne, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves in her stomach. She had to admit, Adam certainly had the looks that could charm anyone, but she wasn’t one to be easily swayed.

Suddenly, she felt something crawling on her arm and brushed it away, discovering it was just a ladybug. 

“Not a fan of insects?” Adam asked, twirling his wine glass between his fingers. She shrugged, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. “That and human insects too,” she scoffed, earning a chuckle from him.

Amused by her humor, Adam leaned closer, a mischievous glint in his eye. “What do you say we ditch this stinking social gathering and head somewhere else?” His suggestion was lighthearted but carried an undertone of genuine interest, a small invitation for a date, just the two of them.

[Name] paused for a moment, contemplating the idea. A bit of quiet time with Adam could be nice, away from the prying eyes and the unwanted attention. “Hmm, I don't see a problem vwith that,” she replied, a small smile breaking through her cool demeanor.

Pride swelled within Adam at her acceptance, and he stood, extending his hand to her. “Quite the gentleman,” she complimented, taking his hand as she rose to her feet.

“Only for the one and only Russian player in Zenon Martyr,” he replied, flashing her a charming grin that made her heart race just a little.

Realizing her glass still contained champagne, she chugged the rest and set the empty glass outside, feeling a rush of excitement at the unexpected turn of events.

Peaches do in fact taste sweet when you are with someone. 

*BEEP BEEP*

“Oh, a notification?”

Says here that she got invited to Japan for the Blue Lock next stage, And being invited as the NEL coach for Russia Stratum.

“Maybe mix it up, it could be males only.” She shrugged. 

*BEEP BEEP*

Wait no, this notification is for her, and for her only.  Guess she's going to Japan.

……”Oh…..”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Ended

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© 2024 Ｖｅｌｖｅｔｅｅｎ 平和な目覚め— do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform without my permission!

[quixoticanarchy]

overhearing someone say she doesn’t want to do her assignment and is just going to have chatgpt write her 750 words… like ok well I am judging you a bit but whatever. overhearing her then say the assignment is to watch the king leopold’s ghost documentary and write a short reflection on it -> ok that seems,, worse. I very much understand not wanting to do assignments but girl i think it’s a bit heinous to brush off learning about the brutal history of the drc and its exploitation for rubber as like a silly thing your annoying professor wastes your time on, yknow? the standard ‘I never learned anything about history in school so you can’t blame me for my complete ignorance of the world and lack of curiosity or effort to amend that ignorance’ person usually affects a type of ignorance equated to innocence, something externally inflicted or beyond their control, but sometimes you don’t know shit bc you have made active choices to avoid it. lol

[gabessquishytum]

Dream is the entitled, vicious third son of the city’s most powerful mafia family so when he sets his sights on hob, a bartender just trying to keep his head above water, it’s a recipe for disaster.

Hob works at a bar to pay off college debt, and he has one rule: he doesn’t sleep with customers. This is the kind of a bar where the staff is expected to dress and act a certain way and lots of his coworkers offer other services for money, and while hob doesn’t judge them, he doesn’t want that kind of complication. So he deals with the mild harassment with a smile, flirts for tips, and never lets it go further.

When dream first comes into the bar, it’s obvious that he is bad news. He’s surrounded by dangerous looking men but there’s something about the way they defer to dream that scares the shit out of everyone. Hob wasn’t even supposed to work the front but one of the others begged him to cover their section instead. Hob is a nice guy so he does it, and goes to serve Dream’s group.

When Dream first sets eyes on hob, tits pressed together in a leather corset, arse on display in booty shorts, he wants to get him in his knees. And it isn’t the first time he’s been to this bar, or propositioned the staff, so when he offers hob a wad of cash in exchange for a fuck, he fully expects hob to say yes. But hob doesn’t actually know who Dream is. So hob turns him down.

No one ever turns dream down.

Dream’s pissed, sure, but he’s also determined to own hob, no matter what it takes.

The next night he’s back with his lackeys. Hob sees him come in, predatory as a panther, and feels that cold stare on him as dream settles back at the same table. Hob ignores him. He is technically meant to be ending his shift but before he can, his manager comes over, pale and sweaty and tells hob he has to stay. He’s been personally requested by dream of the endless and no one wants to risk his wrath if they say no.

Hob knows that name and it finally clicks exactly whose attention he’s attracted. Fear makes his blood run a little cold but he doesn’t let it show as he goes back over and serves Dream’s group all night long. Dream barely drinks his vodka martini but watches hob running around all night.

Finally, hob asks Dream if the drink isn’t to his liking. And right in front of him, dream pours his martini out all over the table.

“Clean it up,” he orders hob in that low, hypnotic voice.

“I’ll get a rag,” hob murmurs but Dream’s men close ranks around him.

Dream sits forward. The music pounds between them. “a bottle of that vodka costs more than your month’s rent. Don’t let it go to waste. Lick it up.”

Hob burns with humiliation but he doesn’t exactly have a choice. So he kneels beside the table and starts to lap at the vodka. It isn’t long before a strong, bony hand fists in his hair. Dream doesn’t direct hob, but just feels him move.

By the time he’s done, the table isn’t clean, but there is vodka in hob’s hair, on his chest, and he’s so pissed off he could scream.

“Let me have you,” Dream says. He looks drunk, not on any alcohol, but on the sight of hob following his orders. Humiliated at his hands.

Hob rips away from him. “I’m not for sale.”

“Last night’s offer expired,” Dream replies. “I won’t be paying for you. Not now.”

But he lets hob go, lets him stumble into the bathroom to clean off. Hob doesn’t come back: he sneaks out of the club and sprints home. But it’s too late. There’s nowhere to run in this city that Dream can’t find him. He already knows his name and where he lives. Sooner or later, he’ll have him.

Mini fic in my inbox time!!!! FUCK YEAH this is such a good setup, I LOVE how mean and entitled Dream is, I love the dubcon of it all... yes please.

I'm imagining all the things that could happen. Maybe Dream buys the entire block of flats where Hob lives so now he even controls his home, maybe he psyches him out by playing with the rent - one minute Hob’s getting a letter saying his monthly rent is now only $1, next minute there's another letter increasing the rent to $10,000 per month. Hob is tearing his hair out. Of course Dream gives him a way out of it all - if Hob comes to live in the suite Dream set up for him, he won't have to pay anything. Dream even tries to buy up the bar where Hob works, but it either belongs to one of the other gangs or one of his siblings already, so he can't have it. It's not much of a relief to Hob though. Dream is still in there every night, humiliating Hob and demanding "services".

The worst part of all this is that Dream is... hot. Smoking hot and fucking gorgeous, and Hob would be so ready to jump into bed with him... if he didn't have such an abysmal personality. He makes Hob’s dick want to shrivel up. Most of the time. Except there are moments, when Dream shows up to collect Hob from a late shift at the bar so he doesn't have to walk home and potentially get stabbed.... that's kind of nice. And Dream sometimes sends flowers (usually with a threatening note, but still).

He has a horrible feeling that he's going to get used to all this... and that Dream will get him eventually. Its just a matter of time.

[hoffmansgirl]

Oh, trust me, I’m not obsessed—just pointing out the obsession I see. If you really don’t care about his girlfriend and only wish Nicholas the best, why waste your time posting Reddit gossip about her “weird vibes”? Let’s be real, it’s not like calling out someone you don’t even know personally is doing Nicholas any favors. If anything, it’s just adding more drama to the mix.

And can we drop the tired excuse of “they’re public figures”? That doesn’t give anyone a free pass to nitpick their personal lives. Newsflash: just because someone is in the spotlight doesn’t mean their relationships are up for debate by strangers online. Honestly, don’t you have better things to do than play detective on someone’s love life? If you’re here for Nicholas, focus on supporting him, not dragging people he’s close to.

But hey, if dissecting his girlfriend’s every move is your way of showing support, then I guess that’s your choice. Just don’t get mad when someone calls it out for what it really is: unnecessary drama. So, go ahead, keep pretending you don’t care while proving the opposite—whatever helps you sleep at night.

let me start by saying: it was my first time speaking about his girlfriend EVER. you weren't in my dms (ironically, you're sending me anonymous asks) ever before. if you're so pressed then why do you spend so much time on writing all that and reading my blog?

i don't even feel like i should explain myself, but here we go i guess.

it's really funny how you skipped the part when i mentioned how she bullied nicholas' co-star ━ i guess her being racist doesn't matter! 🤍

i'm not judging nicholas' relationship because it's HIS, not mine. i have no right to tell what's good and what's bad for him as i only write fanfics about him on tumblr.

how am i playing detective? girl, i'm out here unbothered, posting something i saw on reddit and you're cryingggg.

besides, i think i am allowed to express my opinion on MY blog...? just block me if you're so bothered. i am speaking my thoughts, it's not like i'm sending her hateful dms or anything ━ because i really, really, really don't care about that woman. i acknowledged her existence once here, and it's kinda funny how you're mad & sweaty in my dms already...

victoria is that u