#I simply like to think about *why* he got to be this way

[indecisiveavocado]

here's the thing: actual shit--accountants, advertisers, advice columnists, air conditioner installers, airline workers, alarm clock makers, antique shop owners, apartment management, architects, artists, ATM machine fixers, activists, administrators, antitrust lawyers, and that's just the a's--are barely a sliver of the economy.

As of 2023, the last year the World Bank has data, the global GDP was about $107 trillion. Which is, to be fair, a lot (by the way, have I mentioned how the world's billionares have a combined wealth of about $16 trillion, about the same as the market capitalization for the top 10 corporations? No?) But, the same year, estimates for the derivatives market varied from $715 trillion to over a quadrillion (various sources say that, typically in passing).

In other words? The actual economy is outweighed by at least six and possibly up to ten times by the derivatives market.

So, what is it?

The derivatives market is complicated as fuck, but there are some basic types. Let's look at them with examples, but remember that most of these are done at high speeds by machines working for ultra-wealthy corporations/individuals, and so you shouldn't consider it at this scale:

Forwards: Alice wants to buy a bagel from Bob, but she doesn't have the money on her. She agrees to pay Bob the cost of the bagel the next time she sees him.

Futures: Alice decides that she wants a bagel when she gets back from a long trip. She makes a contract with Bob that lets her buy a bagel for $5 when she gets back, regardless of what the 'normal' price is.

Options: Alice decides that she wants a bagel when she gets back from a long trip. She makes a contract with Bob to give her the ability but not the obligation to buy a bagel for $5 when she gets back, regardless of what the 'normal' price is.

Swaps: Alice thinks the price of bagels is likely to go up in the future. Charles thinks it is likely to drop. Seeing that they both get bagels at the same frequency, they both agree that henceforth if Alice wants bagels, Charles will give her whatever the current price is, and if Charles wants bagels, Alice will give him $5. If Alice is right, she saves on bagels; If Charles is right, he profits the bonus.

The key thing? Those can themselves be sold (mostly).

So Alice can sell, say, Denise her $5 bagel future for $2.50 when she gets back, and then Denise can sell it to Eli, and Eli to Fiona, and Fiona to George, and so on--all while not a single bagel changes hands!

It's enough to remind one of the joke (loosely adapted from Nathan Ausubel's Treasury of Jewish Folklore):

Mendel and Yossel co-owned a small inn. One day, they finally scraped together enough to buy a whole keg of whiskey to bring back to the inn, for that was sure to drum up business (it being Russia). But on the way back from where they bought it, the weather turned cold, windy, and generally miserable (even for Russia). How they wanted to drink! But they couldn't; it cost too much. They simply couldn't. Not without wasting so much money... Finally, Yossel had an idea. He rummaged around until he found a lonely five-kopek piece. "Here," he said, handing it to Mendel. "Give me a drink of whiskey from your half of the keg." Mendel, ever the businessman, agreed and poured Yossel a little glassful. After drinking it, Yossel got cheerful. Meanwhile, Mendel was left to suffer from the cold and wind, bitterly thinking about how lucky Yossel, the bastard, was. And then he had the realization: Why can't I buy a drink from him? "Yossel," he said, handing him his five kopeks, "pour me a drink from your half." "All right," Yossel said, and did. And so they kept on buying drinks, so, when they got back to the inn, they were quite drunk, and there was no whiskey left. "Imagine!" cried Yossel. "An entire keg of whiskey, sold for one five-kopek piece!"

In a similar fashion does the financial world work. And if "the economy" includes not just the real world, but also the derivatives market?

Well, then wages, jobs, stocks, everything can be going horribly -- but the derivatives market outweigh world GDP by a factor of six, if not more!

In other words, it needn't be only the rich people's pockets.

In fact it's very little of that.

It's simply that we've created so many derivatives that, as a matter of practice, they've sidelined the real economy--the one that does shit (and note that I'm defining "shit" really broadly here! As far as GDP is concerned blockchain scammers are "doing shit"! I don't even know what the actual numbers are!)

Gotta give it to capitalism: they have essentially created an infinite-money machine with derivatives, and eventually it's going to come crashing down, and guess who's gonna be paying for it?

[ruinix]

We got Jack and Quinn with pillow princesses. What about Luke? It's his time. Please.

Hey there, lovely. Of course, of course, Lukey time. You've distracted me from my other blurbs waiting to be finished (sorry but oh my gosh). I fear I need more Luke photos (i am begging for photos of this cutie)

18+. Whore thoughts. Fluff and smut, of course. Unprotected sex.

Luke would notice the way you would tense whenever you came across a video about tips and tricks on oral sex, specifically giving blowjobs. Why your FYP or explore page was showing you that, he didn't know, but he could see your troubled look, your eyebrows furrowing, your teeth biting on your lower lip. Then you would look at him, looking so lost.

Luke knew your dilemma. The pressure to reciprocate, because of the silly fucking videos you come across. He didn't like it. Why would you need to reciprocate when he loved giving you your pleasure, your need, your wants. So, every time, he would move, wrapping his arms around you, kissing your lips, taking your phone from your fingers.

He could feel you melt, shivering when his other hand run up your arm, over your shoulder, over your neck to crane it upwards as he snaked his tongue into your awaiting lips. Kissing you was always so perfect. Your softness. Your eagerness. Your reciprocation. Sometimes you would nip at his lip, a signal for him to fuck you already, because you got a bit of a brat in you. Sometimes you would lick his lip greedily like you wanted to taste him as he did with you. Now, you were simply kissing back. Softly. Oh, so softly.

"I won't ask for something you don't want to do," he whispered after he parted from you. He could see your protest, your lips pouting so he kissed it. Just a little peck. "Stop stressing, sweetheart."

He saw the way your eyes sparkled at his endearment. They always did, but even more when he was calling you that. It was cute. You were so cute.

"Say it again," you demanded, chin tipping up, challenging him to defy you.

Like Luke could ever. Sometimes he would think if he had not proven himself enough. You kept trying him again and again as if you were waiting for him to slip up. Except, your word has always been his creed. He would take in what you demand and he would do it without fail.

"Sweetheart," he whispered, feeling your shaky breath on his face as he leaned forward. "My sweets."

"Sweets," you echoed.

A light giggle escaped you, your cheeks flushing with a deep red. You grabbed his cheeks and pulled him in for a kiss. A succession of little pecks in between giggles that also had him laughing. This was exactly one of the reasons why he loved you. You expressed your joy so easily, so freely, and his heart was doing somersaults in his chest.

Luke took a moment to relish the kisses, then he grabbed your nape, deepening it because it wasn't enough. He needed more. He slid his tongue, groaning when you playfully bite down on his tongue, shuddering at the feel of your smile. So cute. You think you were in full control but it was Luke who could easily push you into a haze by just slipping his hand into your pants, his fingers pressing at the growing wet patch on your panties.

"Want me to make you feel good?" Luke asked, licking the soft and tender skin of your neck, greedily smelling your alluring scent. He listened to your pleading moans, waiting for actual words to spill out of your pretty lips, his finger teasing your clothed slit, pressing and circling over where your clit was. "This feels good?"

"Oh, Luke," you cried out when he slipped your panties to the side, when he slides two fingers into your quivering heat. "More please."

As you commanded, he fucked you with his fingers, making you moan and gasped, while he nipped and kissed your neck. He sucked on your skin, leaving hickeys, groaning at the taste of you. The taste of sweat that started to shine on your skin. The taste of your scent. Just you. He needed everything.

So, he greedily took it. He curled his fingers in a come-hither motion, making your thighs quiver, makign your back arch. He ate up how pleasure overtook your senses. The way your eyebrows furrowed, the way your eyes rolled up or closed. The way your lips parted to free your every sound. The way your pussy feel around his fucking fingers. The way your nipples pebbled,begging to be touched, so he did, pinching them. He commited your pleasure, your beauty to his memory. Everything.

His cock felt painfully hard in his pants. Without looking, he knew he was making a mess on his pants. The gray material turning dark from his pre-cum. He might even come from the sight of you, from the feel of your pussy pulsing, from the squeal you let out as you come, but he held himself back, grinding his palm over clit, pounding his fingers into the spot that had you begging for more, more, and more.

You didn't need to beg.

Luke parted from you, gritting his teeth at your whimper from the lost of him. He immediately reassured you, pressing a kiss to your calf as he lifted your legs up. He pulled your pants off, letting your leg fall onto his side while he gripped the other, spreading you open like that, his fingers smearing your cum on your skin. He intently watched you, tugging his pants down his ass, slapping his aching dick against your pussy.

"Luke, please, please."

You didn't need to beg. Right, but fuck, your pleas sounded like music. Your eyes were shining with tears. Not from sadness or panic. No. Just tears of desperation, because you needed him to give you more. More he would. He loved doing just that. It brought him pleasure to bring you pleasure. He wouldn't need blowjobs because he preferred going down on you so he could feast on your pussy. He preferred setting the pace of fucking you. He preferred giving because. Just because. All for his sweetheart. For his beautiful princess.

Luke sank into you, moaning at the perfect fit of your pussy around him like you were made for him. He fucked you. Slowly at first. He let you feel every inch of him, rolling his hip to get deeper inside of you. He got rewarded by your breathy moans, by the sight of you gripping the fleece blanket on the couch, by your pussy clamping around him.

All of a sudden, the distance of the position got too much. Luke grabbed both of your thighs, wrapping them around his hips, before he leaned to take your lips, tasting your sighs and groans. He only stopped kissing when you turned your head away so you could breathe.

He also needed to breathe. He rested his forehead against your temple, kissing your cheeks, as he rutted into you like he was in heat. He knew exactly when you were about to come so he continued his pace, not changing a thing, persistently reaching your depths, until you come which triggered his release.

Luke was in a haze as he drew out both of your orgasms. After he gave his last spurts of his cum, he slipped out of you, parting just a bit from you so he could watch his cum drip from your quivering pussy. He was so mesmerized with the sight like he always had. He absently run his thumb over your sensitized clit, making you squeeze and letting out so much more of him.

When he gazed up your half lidded eyes, he felt his cock twitch, making him shudder from sensitivity.

"Do you want more?" He asked, gripping the base of his wet cock.

You bit your lip. The action only made his cock throb harder. He cursed, wanting to make you stop when he knew he couldn't stop you from being so pretty, when he knew whatever you do, he would be so turned on again.

"Bedroom," was all you said, your eyes burning with the same need that he felt.

Luke sprung up, taking you with him. The trip to your bedroom was quick. His heart pounded when you crawled over the sheets. He could see the mess between your thighs. He could see how you kept your ass up while you grabbed a pillow to hug.

You peered at him. "What are you waiting for, Luke?"

Luke didn't know he could move so fast.

Good night, lovelies. 🏃🏻‍♀️We thank @ajuice-matts for giving endearments that Lukey might call you. 😎

-> more thoughts? List.

[ponderingmoonlight]

jjk men seeing you in a gorgeous dress for the first time

Pairings: Gojo x fem!reader; Nanami x fem!reader; Sukuna x fem!reader; Geto x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,8k

Warnings: pretty much all fluff except for Sukuna + Geto, Geto and reader are baddies in his part so be aware hehe

Gojo Satoru

“I hope I made myself clear.”

You look at yourself in the mirror, desperately fighting with that resistant zipper that refuses its service. This would be way easier with someone assisting you. After all, you’re not peeling yourself into a skin-tight dress every casual evening. Well, it’s not like you alone in this room. But asking him for help?

Absolutely, utterly and completely impossible.

“Hmm, I might need to hear that again.”

You sign to yourself while finally getting your dress all the way up without pinching your skin. Honestly, you were never the girl to wear dresses, let alone fancy gowns. Since you’re out fighting a majority of the time, pants simply suit your lifestyle way better – it’s not like all those monsters care about your clothes anyway. Well, there is one monster that definitely cares, though.

“First, don’t look at me a second too long or I’ll make sure you’ll never be able to see something with those pretty blue eyes again. Second, if you want one comment about that dress the second I step out, I’ll kill you-“

“C’mon, that’s not fair, I’m way too excited-“

“Silence.”

You can sense his pout from behind the curtain.

“I’m being serious, Gojo. One look, one comment and you’re gone in the wind.”

You force yourself to take a deep breath, taking a last look at yourself in the mirror. Why are you suddenly this nervous? You’re never nervous, especially not around that douchebag. There’s no reason to feel that prickling sensation crawling down your bare neck, right? It’s not like you see this guy every day, it’s not like you are secretly in love with him.

No.

You hate that guy.

You hate Gojo Satoru with all your heart. All of that teasing, all of his sly remarks, that dumb grin plastered onto his face when he knows he hit the right sport to annoy the hell out of you.

You couldn’t care less about his opinion, if he thinks that dress suits you, if he finds your curves appealing, if he likes what you did to your hair. None of that matters.

Right?

You step out from behind the curtain with the weight of your threat still lingering in the air before you can act like a pathetic teenage girl a second longer. Each click of your heel against the polished floor echoes like a countdown, and you don’t look at him, don’t dare to. You won’t. Not yet.

The room goes quiet - or at least it feels like it does get even more silent than it was before. You know he’s looking at you. You can feel it before you even lift your eyes, that gaze of his is like sunlight, so warm, bright, annoyingly impossible to ignore.

You brace yourself, fully expecting some smug, drawn-out whistle or a dumb nickname like “angel cake” or whatever unhinged thing he’s cooking up today.

But it doesn’t come.

No joke. No teasing.

Just silence.

Your eyes snap to him before you can stop yourself. And there he is, standing stock-still, for once not lounging or leaning or talking. Just… looking.

His lips are slightly parted like he might say something, but nothing comes out. The usual so cocky glow of his eyes is softer now - not dimmer, just quieter. Focused.

On you.

You almost miss the way his fingers flex at his sides, like he has to physically restrain himself from reaching out.

You hate him. You hate how that makes your chest tighten. You hate how just one glance into his oh so honestly amazed gaze makes your knees go weak.

“Well?” you snap, arms crossed, trying to summon your usual venom.

“Cat got your tongue?”

His expression twitches into the beginnings of a smile. Not a cocky one, at least not yet. It’s the kind of smile that only reaches the corners of his mouth, something more dangerous, realer than everything you’ve seen from him before.

“I was trying to respect your very generous warning. But it’s getting real hard.”

You narrow your eyes.

“One word, Gojo. One, and I swear I’ll walk into that event alone.”

“Then I’ll shut up,” he replies quickly, hands raised in surrender, but his eyes betray him.

It’s always in his eyes that are already speaking volumes. Hungry. Worshipful. Slightly amazed. Because of…you, because of you in that dress?

You step closer, fully intending to brush past him and leave, but he moves first. Not blocking you, but somehow forcing you to stop mid-track. Close enough that the air shifts, warm and electric. Fuck, what on earth is going on?

“You look…” he starts, then stops himself.

You catch the way his jaw tenses, how he swallows.

“Stupid? Like a pathetic clown?”

“You look like trouble. The kind I’d lose everything for.”

Your heart stutters. God, you hate him. You hate how this man makes you feel, how you can literally feel your own heart slipping away from you by those oh so sweet words.

“You’re an idiot,” you mutter, brushing past him, and you don’t miss the way his hand almost rises to touch your back.

Almost, but not quite.

As you walk away, you hear him exhale a breath like he’s been holding it since you walked out.

“Totally worth dying for,” he whispers, just quiet enough you’re almost not supposed to hear it.

Almost.

Nanami Kento

You’re still not sure how you ended up here. Since the day you’ve joined Jujutsu High, there was never something like this. Never a fancy occasion to dress up for, never more than a little chit chat with the higher ups. No, the life here was pretty chill.

Was.

“To be honest, I really don’t know how to feel about this.”

“You? I’m spending all day in a blood-soaked coat while slicing through stuff. I’m really not that into playing real-life dress up Barbie for some old farts,” Shoko replies dryly while tying her hair into a simple knot.

“Touché. But hey, do you…do you think he’ll be there as well?”

He, Kento Nanami, to be exact. It’s not a secret to anyone that he caught your eye. To be honest, it’s hard to miss him. Him with those gorgeous blonde hair, him with cheekbones sharp as knives, him with that oh so dark and tempting voice. The prospect of seeing him somewhere apart from the battlefield? More than tempting. If you’d only manage to look decent.

“You mean Nanami? If he gets paid for it, sure. Hey, what’s that look on your face, (y/n)? Don’t tell me you’re thinking you’re not good enough again.”

You can’t help but bite your cheek. Damn Shoko and her sixth sense.

“I gave up hope that he’ll love me back someday a long time ago,” you lie shamelessly.

“But still…I don’t know if this fits me right.”

Your eyes dart over your body, the sleek fabric of the dress Shoko chose for you. This isn’t something you’d normally wear. To be exact, you only wear your uniform skirt and a summer dress from time to time. Something this extravagant? Not in your wardrobe, not in your budget, not in this lifetime.

“You’re kidding, right? You look like a literal angel, (y/n). I’m sure half of that idiots won’t even recognize you.”

Heat rushes up your cheeks immediately while you start fumbling with your fingers. You hate being the centre of attention, hate the feeling of eyes scanning you up and down.

Before you can react any further, Shoko starts rubbing your shoulder gently.

“Stop being so hard on yourself, okay? We need to get going or else we’ll be there after Gojo and I can’t accept that shame.”

You chuckle to yourself and allow your friend to lead you through the empty pathways of Jujutsu High. Oh, she’s definitely right.

The venue is lit like something out of an old, expensive movie: warm chandeliers, polished floors, and way too many people trying to look important while sipping champagne like it’s not just fermented grape juice. Is this really the Jujutsu High you’ve spent most of your life in? Impossible, unbelievable.

You shift uncomfortably in your heels as you step into the main hall, your arm looped through Shoko’s for stability, both emotional and literal.

“See?” she mutters under her breath.

“We beat Gojo. Small miracles do happen.”

You barely hear her. Your eyes are too busy scanning the crowd.

Looking for him. Looking for none other than Nanami Kento.

There is no way he came too late. No, a man like him never forgets the time, would never dare to be 15 minutes too late.

And then, there he is.

Nanami Kento. Standing near a window, dressed in a classic black suit with a gold tie that somehow makes his entire presence look even more expensive. He holds a glass in his hand, untouched, fingers wrapped around it in a way that makes something inside you stir. His hair is slicked back neatly, and his posture is, of course, immaculate, his shoulders straight, head slightly turned as if he’s only half-paying attention to whoever is speaking to him.

God, he looks unfair. And out of reach for a basic woman like you.

You feel yourself shrinking automatically. Maybe this dress is too much. Maybe you look like you’re trying too hard. You should’ve just stayed quiet and wore the boring skirt, you shouldn’t have allowed Shoko to make your hair like that. What if he-

“Go.” Shoko nudges your side.

You blink. Twice, maybe way too many times.

“What?”

“He saw you. Don’t pretend he didn’t.”

Her voice lowers, amused.

“He looked like someone just sucker-punched him with a love spell.”

Your stomach flips. You glance back toward him - and you catch it.

The second your gaze meets his, he’s already staring. None other’s than Nanami’s eyes are fixed on you. Not wandering, not casually observing. Focused. Stunned, even.

Your breath hitches.

You half expect him to look away and resume his conversation, but he doesn’t. In fact, he murmurs something to the person next to him and steps away, glass abandoned on a table. And then he walks toward you. Is he…really moving your way? Not to talk to Shoko, not to scold Gojo who just arrived? No, his eyes still rest unmistakably on you.

You freeze.

This is a mistake. You should’ve worn something less tight. Should’ve pulled your hair back. Should’ve-

“Good evening,” he greets, stopping in front of you.

His voice is quieter than usual, almost... cautious. You nod, fighting the urge to look at the floor.

“Evening.”

There’s a pause. A long one, to be exact. You can practically feel Shoko smirking beside you before she melts into the crowd with a muttered, “Don’t blow it.”

Nanami’s eyes trail down your figure. Not in a way that makes you feel picked apart, but in a way that feels... sincere. Measured. Gentle.

“You look,” he comments, and there’s the smallest catch in his throat.

“...Stunning.”

You blink. He sounds almost unsure that he’s allowed to say it.

“I hope that’s not inappropriate.”

Your heart leaps into your throat. Did he really just say that. Did he really just call you stunning? Him, that force of a man who turns women’s heads on a daily basis, the sorcerer who stole your heart?

“No, it’s not” you manage, barely above a whisper.

Another pause. Did you act too awkward? Why are you not able to just talk to that man? You’re always acting like a stupid little girl around him, no logical sentence leaving your mouth when his eyes rest on yours. Maybe he thinks you’re dumb, maybe he just came here out of sorrow-

“I wasn’t planning on staying long,” he utters quietly, “but now I think I might.”

You look up at him then. Really look. And maybe it’s just the lighting, maybe it’s your imagination, but there’s something in his gaze that feels soft. Curious. Maybe even nervous. No, this man doesn’t think you’re stupid at all.

“Would you walk with me?”

You nod before your fear can stop you.

“I’ve never seen that color on you before. It suits you. Brings out… more than I should say in public.”

You blink, unable to truly process what the just said.

“More?”

There’s a slight shift in his expression, a subtle softening at the eyes, a twitch of something resembling a smile at the corner of his lips.

“It brings out your strength. Your grace. Things you probably don’t see when you’re covered in dust and blood.”

He pauses, and then adds, with something dangerously close to warmth in his voice:

“You look like something people should kneel for.”

Sukuna

“Get it going or else I’ll change my mind and kill you right on the spot.”

You roll your eyes out of instinct. What’s even worse than being held hostage by the king of curses? Right, getting forced to accompany him to some strange event. All those curses roaming around you while you’re nothing but a simple grade 1 sorcerer. Are you even able to survive this?

Certainly not in that dress. Of course, he had to choose something for you, something you can barely breathe in, covered in glitter with a neckline so low that everything might fall out if you bend one inch.

You’d never wear something like this out in public, not to any event, to be exact. Good for you than no one knows you anyway.

Apart from the curses you tried to kill, maybe.

“That’s enough.”

The sipper isn’t even halfway up when he barges into the room like he owns this place.

“Who the hell allowed you to get in here?”, you shriek, desperately hiding your exposed chest behind your palms.

“Invited? I own this place, stupid human. I don’t need your permission to enter.”

His eyes scan you up and down, seem to devour you whole with each passing second.

You grit your teeth, the zipper still caught halfway up your back. Your palms stay pressed to your chest, heat crawling up your neck as you glare at him. What the hell does he keep staring at you like this?

“Turn around, you creep.”

Sukuna doesn’t move. No, not even a single inch.

Instead, he takes another step in, that wolfish grin playing at the corners of his mouth, all fangs and sin.

“I should be insulted,” he muses, voice a lazy purr.

“You think I haven’t seen a body before? You think yours is special enough to fluster me?”

You throw him a venomous glare, but your traitorous heart stumbles in your chest at the way his eyes narrow on you, low and dangerous. Your heart shouldn’t skip a beat when he looks at you like that, your very own eyes shouldn’t wander around his body, take in the sight of that black suits pressed against his tight muscles.

“…That said,” he adds, “you should see your reflection right now.”

You scoff.

“Why? So I can die of shame?”

He huffs a dark chuckle, stepping closer – way too close for comfort - until the heat of him fills the room like smoke.

“No,” he remarks, gaze dropping to the exposed sliver of your chest you’re trying and failing to hide, “so you understand what it does to me.”

You freeze. Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. You need to do something, need to shout at him, need to push him away and finally flee this place. But you do nothing. You just stand there and look up at him through thick lashes.

He reaches forward, slow and deliberate - and for a second, you think he’s going to touch you. Instead, his clawed fingers catch the zipper and pull it upward with one swift tug. You shudder at the brief contact of knuckles brushing your spine, of his body heat radiating through your dress so effortlessly.

“Better,” he mutters, though it sounds like he’s talking more to himself than you.

“I won’t have you walking beside me looking like prey.”

He circles you once, hands clasped behind his back now, expression unreadable.

“Though, you clean up better than I expected. Glitter suits you. Shame you’re not mine to keep.”

You spike, oh so eager to keep at least a spark of dignity.

“I was never yours.”

“Oh, I know. But you’re here, in my palace, in my dress, with my mark of protection. Tell me, little sorcerer-”

He leans down, lips inches from your ear, voice low enough to scrape against your bones. You feel like dying and flying at the same time, breath getting knocked out of your lungs as you stare straight into the devil’s eyes.

“-how long do you plan to keep pretending that doesn’t mean something?”

You don’t answer. You can’t.

Not when he’s this close. Not when your blood is roaring in your ears. Not when you can feel his breath against your skin and all you want to do is both shove him away and lean in. Not when thoughts darker than anything you’ve ever read about start to occupy your mind like parasites.

Sukuna straightens again, clearly satisfied by the way you’re stuck in place.

“Now, keep up. I want the room to see you bleed confidence.”

He pauses in the doorway, casting you one last look over his shoulder.

“And if anyone touches you?”

His voice drops, spiteful and dark.

“I’ll rip their arms off. Slowly.”

Then he’s gone, leaving you with the echo of your heartbeat pounding like war drums and the scent of danger lingering in the air.

Geto Suguru

You still don’t know how you ended up here. Was it the attitude from yesterday or that sundress you wore last week that gave the elders ideas?

Well, it doesn’t matter anymore. Because you’re already on your way to that gala, already have a clear mission in your mind:

Find Geto Suguru.

Seduce Geto Suguru.

Kill Geto Suguru.

There first two tasks? Quite easy for someone in a tight red dress and an eyeliner as sharp as a blade. But actually killing him?

That’s a whole other thing. You never met Suguru since he went berserk before you joined jujutsu high yourself. What you do know though is the chaos he leaves behind whenever he decides it’s time to kill some non-sorcerers again. What will Gojo say when he finds out?

“I’ll let you know when I’m done,” you instruct the unknown driver briefly.

You can’t afford to care about that now. Without wasting another precious minute, you enter the grand hall.

The gala is a haze of velvet, perfume, and polished threats. You glide through it all like smoke - calm, unreadable, untouchable. Just here to get your job done and go.

You catch your reflection in the glass behind the bar as you lean in. The red dress clings to every inch it should, your gaze cool beneath the razor-cut eyeliner. You raise a finger delicately to the bartender.

“Pornstar martini,” you order smoothly.

He nods and turns to prepare it. And then, without even needing to look, you feel him.

It’s like a drop in air pressure. Like the moment before lightning cracks a tree in half. The calm before the storm.

“You don’t seem like someone who needs the liquid courage,” a low voice murmurs beside you.

You turn, slow and cautious. It has to be him. There is literally no doubt in the fact that it is him, the man you’re searching for.

Geto Suguru stands next to you, dark eyes full of quiet mischief and something heavier beneath. His long black hair is half-tied, draping over his shoulder in a way that's annoyingly perfect. He’s dressed sharply, but there's something loose in his posture, like he doesn’t believe anything here could possibly matter. Including you.

Wrong.

You smile - the kind that doesn’t reach your eyes.

“It’s not for courage. It’s for taste.”

Geto leans against the bar, elbow brushing yours.

“Ah. So you have standards.”

You sip, then glance at him over the rim.

“One or two.”

“And I wonder,” he mutters, voice dropping as his gaze trails down your frame, slow enough to be insulting if it weren’t so calculated, “do those standards apply to men with a high kill count and a price on their head?”

You click your tongue thoughtfully, swirling the passionfruit garnish between your fingers.

“Only if they buy the next drink.”

He chuckles, deep and rich, and it thrums through your chest despite yourself.

“So,” he continues, stepping closer, enough that his breath touches the shell of your ear.

“What’s a woman like you doing at a party full of ghosts in suits?”

You tilt your head, letting your perfume brush against him.

“Looking for someone interesting.”

“Have you found him?”

You meet his eyes head-on, unflinching.

“Maybe.”

There’s a beat. The music fades into the background. Everything narrows down to the space between his mouth and yours, to the tension crackling in the air like an old wire about to spark. Oh, he’s definitely handsome with that smile just as charming as it is threatful.

He leans in again, this time lower, voice a whisper meant only for you.

“Tell me, darling… are you here to kill me?”

You don’t flinch. Don’t blink. Just take another slow sip. Of course he knows. A man like him doesn’t attend a grand gala assuming nobody is here to kill him.

“Would it make a difference if I said yes?”

He grins - a wolfish, indulgent thing.

“Only in whether I let you finish your drink.”

You smile, matching his energy, then set the glass down with a soft clink. Maybe you can afford your evening getting just a little more interesting.

“And if I’m not here to kill you?”

Geto’s eyes burn like lit oil. He lifts a hand, fingers grazing just above your waist, not touching, not quite. Hovering, patiently waiting for the right moment.

“Then I’ll take that dress off of you tonight.”

Another pause, your heart skips a beat.

“I hope you’re as skilled with your hands as you are with your words,” you murmur.

He laughs again, softer this time.

“Stay close and find out.”

And just like that, he offers his arm, as if this was a royal ball and not a game of knives beneath silk.

You loop yours through his without hesitation. Because you’ve already made your choice.

Find Geto Suguru. Seduce Geto Suguru. Kill Geto Suguru.

And maybe… let him try to do the same first.

Tags:

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Pics from the header:

Gojo: https://de.pinterest.com/pin/159596380538985199/

Geto: https://de.pinterest.com/pin/670895675777719763/

Sukuna: https://de.pinterest.com/pin/670895675777719719/

Nanami: https://de.pinterest.com/pin/670895675777719716/

[twovialsofamortentia]

effie’s vineyard 🍇

🎧 tell him- ms. lauryn hill

a/n: so i’ve been a writer for about eight years and this is the first time i’ve ever posted fluff. it probably sucks but the idea literally came to me in a dream and i couldn’t not share it with you all <3

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff written by a smut author, reader and james as disgustingly in love newlyweds, effie and monty have both passed away recently, not proofread

James was told his whole life that he loved too hard. He felt too deeply. He couldn’t help it, it was just habit. He loved, and he loved hard. It was just his way.

And by God, did he love you. You, and your beautiful hair, which contrasted so perfectly against your beautiful skin. You, and the way you walked. The way your eyebrows would raise, then furrow, then raise again just before you were about to tell him off. The way your eyes betrayed the rest of your face when you were looking at him like he was crazy, giving away every time that you loved him, really.

James was sunshine in a bottle. Being near him felt like stepping into direct sunlight on a spring morning and realising that if you just held on a little longer, summer was coming.

James was good at helping you to hold on. Whether he knew it or not. He was a walking reminder that if one person could be so kind, and so loyally loving, then so could the rest of the world, and that gave you hope.

What also helped James’ case was that he was fit. He was so, so fit that sometimes it physically hurt you because you couldn’t put it into words. The amount of times Alice had just watched you screaming into your pillow was testament enough to the fact that she had the patience of a saint.

He had his flaws, of course. He had too big an ego. He was impatient. He was reckless when he needed to be careful. He didn’t always think before he acted. Despite all that, he had a good heart. He cared deeply about the people he loved. He would move mountains for them in a heartbeat, he simply needed to be pointed in the right direction.

And he loved you.

That was why you married him.

You listened to the voice in your head for once. Do it, you silly bitch! it said. Good God, do it. If you let him slip through your fingers, you’re the stupidest woman to walk the earth.

That was how you ended up in his parents’ massive house. Your favourite place to sit and think (or smoke) was the window seat at the end of the first floor hallway, because you could look out across the garden, and the vineyard that hadn’t been a vineyard since James’ mother died- you were planning on getting it back up and running. That was your favourite thing to think about.

You would often catch James looking at it out the window, too, when he thought no one else was around. He had more of a sentimental attachment to the place than he liked to let on, so when you had mentioned the idea of getting it back up and running, in that offhanded sort of way you spoke sometimes, his heart filled to bursting.

You couldn’t count the number of meetings you’d had with wineries, specialists, that sort of thing, who were interested, mostly in the fact that a filthy rich young man and his intelligent young wife were trying to revive something from the dead for seemingly no reason except romance. They were intrigued, and a bit sceptical, but James was too good at persuasion. He had an incredible way of convincing people to just give him things, or do things, by just being himself.

And, of course, it was also partly down to you. Because God, how could anyone say no to you?

James shook himself out of his own thoughts as he watched you watching the world outside. He leaned against the bannister, about ten feet away from where you were sitting, hands in his pockets.

“When I was younger,” he spoke up. “My dad used to tell me that to him, my mum got prettier every day.”

You were snapped out of your daydream at his words, and you turned to see him, which made a smile spread across your face. You hummed in response, leaning your head back against the wall, waiting for James to continue.

“And I just used to say sure, dad, because I thought that they were just old and lovey dovey- which they were, obviously.”

You giggled, nodding along. When James started stories like this, took that certain tone of voice, you could tell he had been thinking about it for a while beforehand. It was if it were his life’s mission to tell you what he wanted to say, and every story was just as important, even if they just ended with Anyway, I love you.

“And then when you happened- it was actually the first day you moved in- I looked at you and I thought no shot, dad. She’s already as beautiful as it gets.”

James pushed off of the bannister, walking the few short steps to where you were sitting on the windowsill. He leaned against the wall next to the window, so that he could gaze out of it from the same angle as you. He freed one of his hands from his pocket, bringing it up to smooth over your hair.

“I was wrong.” James said quietly. Finally. Certainly. “Fuck me, I was so wrong.”

You just smiled. What else could you have done? Your gaze flicked between the white wisps of smoke rising from your cigarette, and the expanse of the vineyard- not in total disarray, but definitely in need of some love.

It was just as well that the vineyard was yours and James’ problem, in that respect, because between the two of you, you had enough love for a thousand vineyards. You hoped that would reflect in the end result.

“Are you thinking about the vineyard?” James asked gently, still running his fingers through your hair as he stood behind you.

You just hummed again, nodding.

James nodded too, slowly, his mind drifting towards his mother. She loved you, with all her heart. He couldn’t help but think about how proud she’d have been of you for running the house in the way that you did.

You crossed your legs underneath you, making space for James to sit down as you stubbed your cigarette out in the ashtray before dragging that out of the way, too.

“I was thinking,” you began, lighting another cigarette. “That if we’re doing up the vineyard for your mum.. Monty should get something too- I don’t know what, but-”

“I think-” James swallowed, taking the cigarette from you when you offered it to him. “I think Dad would be happy just to know that you’re doing something for Mum. That you’re putting the effort into keeping her around- he’d want that more than he’d want something of his own.”

“You really think so?”

“Yeah.” James agreed, pausing to take a drag of the cigarette before passing it back to you. “They were joint at the hip- but like, more than that. They were like two halves of the same person, you remember. The way they loved each other.”

“I know,” you sighed, raising the cigarette to your lips as you cast your gaze out of the window.

You were both unaware of the irony in James’ words, as you sat across from one another on the windowsill. There was something strangely intimate about the fact that you were sharing a cigarette and talking about love. You just didn’t realise because you were so smack bang in the middle of it.

There was an indescribable sort of comfort in having moments like this one. The intimacy of just- existing, next to the person you loved the most, and doing nothing of real importance in the grand scheme of things. There was something so simple about sitting on a windowsill, sharing a cigarette, drinking in each other’s presence. That was how love truly worked, you thought. It was these moments that made all of the other hard things worth it. It just made it oodles better that that person was James.

Everyone would always get on at James for being such a loverboy. Even back in Hogwarts, when he was just hopelessly pining for you, everyone would rinse him for being too in love. He’d laugh, because he knew it didn’t matter what anyone thought, he was in love with you regardless.

But it was always James who got the stick for being so in love. You should have been thankful for the fact that he was taking the heat, but it made you wonder if he knew sometimes that it was possible for you to love him as much as he loved you. Because you did.

“You okay?”

“Mhmm.” you hummed slowly, finally tearing your gaze away from the fields out of the window to meet James’ eye. A small smile spread across your face as you did- because it wasn’t just you who looked beautiful in this light. “I’m okay.”

“What are you smiling at?” James challenged, returning the smile as he watched the way your face relaxed as you looked at him. He was sure that no matter what else happened or changed in this world, he would never tire of looking at you. It was impossible to tire of someone like you.

You laughed quietly, eyes drifted to your legs, intertwined. You debated whether or not he’d just rinse you for saying all the sappy things you were thinking, but then you’d be able to come right back and call him a hypocrite, so there.

“Love you.”

“What was that?” James lifted a hand, holding it behind his ear. “I didn’t hear you.”

You raised an eyebrow, a look of mock annoyance falling across your face as you shook your head. With a roll of your eyes, you repeated yourself.

“I said, I love you.” you told James, leaning forward. “I love you.” you leaned further forward, taking his face in your hands. “I love you.” a little further, squishing his cheeks together, and then a final, muffled “I love you.” because you were mimicking the pout you’d put on his face.

As you leaned forward, squishing his cheeks together, James wrapped his arms around you and pulled you towards him, shifting you until you were sitting in his lap. He held you like that for a moment, his face still trapped in your hands as he laughed at the expression you had put on it. As he did so, you could feel the vibrations of the sound moving along your body as your chests were pressed together.

“Thought you ought to know.” you shrugged teasingly, raising your cigarette to your lips and taking a quick drag.

“Why, thank you.”

James shifted his grip on you so that he could pull the cigarette from between your lips. He brought it to his own mouth, his gaze flickering from your face, to the cigarette, and then back to your face. He took a drag then, before gently blowing the smoke into your face.

“Eugh-!” you winced, scrunching your nose up. “Fucker.”

He just laughed at your reaction, taking another drag off of your cigarette before taking the opportunity to kiss the side of your neck- which also involved blowing the smoke across your skin.

You stole the cigarette back, placing it between your own lips for a final drag, ignoring the way the filter burned your finger because you had smoked it down too far, then stubbing it out in the ashtray.

“Do you think-” James began, then paused for a moment, his gaze roaming your face, from your lips up to your eyes. “Do you think we’re doing the right thing? About the vineyard, I mean?”

“Yes.” you said, and as you did, you nodded certainly. “I know it’s a lot right now, but it was your mum’s- I don’t want to just leave it to ruin.”

James smiled faintly at that, sufficiently reassured and reminded of the fact that, if at least, it all went wrong, it would be a valiant effort in the name of his mother anyway. You wouldn’t let it be anything else.

“Anyway,” you said, taking James’ face in your hands again, making him smile when your eyes locked onto his. “I love you.”

“You’ve said.” James beamed, and he looked like an actual ray of sunshine as his gaze bore into yours, looking up at you with no intention to stop any time soon.

You nodded slowly, obviously, pretending to be thinking, then you leaned down to catch James’ lips in a gentle kiss, one that tasted like cigarettes and the realisation that James had been eating your strawberries even though you made him promise not to. You’d get him for that later, though, because right now you were dedicated to showing him that he married you for a reason, and that reason was that you loved him very very much.

“Just making sure you know.”

[ilovechinomoreno]

SAE ITOSHI X READER

Timeskip | NSFW - MDNI

(fem!reader)

Cw:.Rough Sex, Oral Sex (F receiving), p in v, Dom!Sae Itoshi / Sub!Reader, Hair Pulling

The private lounge in Madrid’s elite club buzzed with energy—champagne popping, bass vibrating through the velvet-lined walls, and players laughing too loud over flickering gold lights.

Sae Itoshi was leaning against the far wall, untouched drink in hand, as always—removed, aloof, unreadable. The only thing giving away his mood tonight was the smallest twitch at the corner of his lips. Real Madrid had won. He had scored. The crowd had screamed his name. And now he stood in his custom-tailored suit like a statue among boys trying too hard.

You watched him from across the room, swirling your cocktail, your eyes never leaving him.

“You gonna stare all night or congratulate your boyfriend?” Rin’s voice startled you slightly as he passed by with a smug glance.

You didn’t respond. You just moved.

Sae's gaze caught yours before you even got halfway across the lounge. Sharp, ocean-blue eyes watching your every step like you were the only person here worth tracking.

“Why aren’t you drinking?” you teased, coming to stand beside him. “Big win. You earned it.”

“I don’t need alcohol to celebrate,” he said simply. His voice was quiet, velvety, detached—but you could hear the heat under it. That restrained energy, always coiled beneath the surface.

You reached for the glass in his hand. “Then you won’t mind if I steal this.”

He let you. He always let you.

You sipped it, watching him over the rim. His eyes dipped to your lips and back. Subtle. Most people wouldn’t even notice. But you’d spent enough time with him to know that Sae Itoshi didn’t do anything by accident.

He leaned in slightly, just close enough that you could smell the clean spice of his cologne, laced with a hint of sweat and something darker. “You’re staring,” he said.

“So are you,” you shot back.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The world around you faded—the music, the laughter, the cameras you knew were still lurking somewhere in the shadows.

He moved first, tilting his head toward the balcony doors behind him. “Come with me.”

---

The air outside was cool, crisp with the night breeze. The private terrace overlooked the Madrid skyline, glittering and alive. Below, the city throbbed with sound. But up here, it was quiet. Just you and Sae, and the thrum of your own heartbeat.

You leaned against the railing. “You always do this. Avoid the noise.”

“I hate parties,” he said bluntly.

You laughed. “But you let them throw one for you anyway.”

“It’s part of the job.”

You turned to face him, eyes narrowing playfully. “Is kissing me on camera also part of the job?”

His lips quirked—just a little. “No. That’s just for me.”

Your breath hitched.

Sae took a step closer. “You were watching me the whole match.”

“And you weren’t?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. Instead, his hand lifted—callused fingers brushing your jaw, dragging lightly along the skin there. The kind of touch that said everything he never bothered to say aloud.

“I play better when I know you’re watching,” he murmured.

Your pulse jumped. “That’s cheesy, Itoshi.”

“It’s true.”

There was heat now. Not just in his voice but in the way he looked at you—like he was already imagining what came next. Like he’d been thinking about it the whole game.

“You were brutal on the field,” you whispered, stepping into him. “Aggressive. Cold.”

“Needed to win,” he said.

“And now that you have?”

He leaned down, breath warm against your neck. “Now I want something else.”

You tilted your head. “What’s that?”

“You. Quiet. Mine.”

Your whole body reacted to that word. Mine. He rarely said things like that. Never possessive. Always distant. But when he did—God.

Your fingers curled into his jacket, pulling him closer.

And when he kissed you, it was nothing like the one on camera. No public performance. No filtered control. This was deeper—rougher—like he was finally letting himself feel everything he bottled up for 90 minutes on the field.

You moaned into it, body pressed against the cold stone railing. His hands were on your waist now, tugging you flush against him, his mouth trailing down to your jaw, to the hollow of your throat.

“You looked so good watching me win,” he murmured against your skin. “So proud. So fucking mine.”

You gasped when he bit lightly, the pain delicious.

“Sae…”

“Come back to the hotel with me,” he said, low and serious.

You nodded.

Because you were already his.

The door shut behind you with a quiet click, muffling the sounds of the world outside. City lights spilled into the suite through the massive windows, but the real heat in the room came from Sae—and the way he was looking at you.

He didn’t speak. His gaze said everything.

Cold precision, barely veiled hunger. Like he’d waited all night for this moment, and now he was going to take his time tearing you apart.

You barely took a step before he moved.

His hand slid around your waist, the other cradling the back of your neck as he kissed you hard—deep, hungry, full of quiet control. You gasped into his mouth, clutching his shirt like you needed something to hold on to.

Sae walked you backward until your spine hit the wall, and you felt the heat of him pressing into you.

“That dress,” he murmured into your neck, lips brushing over your skin. “You knew what you were doing.”

Your breath hitched. “I hoped you’d notice.”

“I did,” he said, voice low and rough. “I noticed everything.”

Before you could reply, he was lifting you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist, and suddenly the wall was gone—replaced by soft sheets and his body above yours.

The kiss never broke. It only deepened.

When he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them.

“Take it off,” he ordered, fingers curling around the hem of your dress.

You sat up and pulled it over your head, tossing it aside. The moment you were bare beneath him—lace and skin—his jaw tightened.

“You’re unreal.”

“You’re still dressed,” you breathed.

His eyes didn’t leave you as he slid out of his jacket, then began unbuttoning his shirt. Slowly. Intentionally. Every button revealed more of his toned chest, smooth skin stretched over lean muscle. You couldn’t look away.

When he finally shrugged the shirt off, you reached for him, pulling him back to you.

He kissed you again, but this time it was slower—deeper. His hand dragged down your side before cupping your breast through the lace, fingers teasing until your back arched into him.

He unclasped your bra in one motion and tossed it aside, his mouth immediately finding your nipple. Warm, wet, focused. He sucked gently, then harder, tongue circling until you were gasping beneath him.

“Sae…”

He lifted his head, lips wet. “Say it again.”

“Sae.”

“Good.”

His hands slid lower, hooking into your panties. You lifted your hips and let him pull them off, leaving you completely bare beneath him.

He dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed, spreading your legs open like you were something fragile but already his. The moment his mouth touched you—hot and slow—you gasped and grabbed the sheets.

His tongue was precise, teasing at first, then deeper. He flattened it against your clit and sucked, just once, and your hips jerked off the bed.

“You’re already soaked,” he muttered against you. “All for me.”

You tried to answer, but words failed you. All you could do was moan as his mouth worked you open—his grip on your thighs tight enough to leave bruises. He licked and sucked and circled your clit until your legs were shaking, until your back arched and you were nearly sobbing his name.

“Sae—oh my God—please—”

He growled softly, the vibration making your whole body tremble.

“Come for me,” he said, voice low. “Now.”

You shattered with a cry, pleasure washing over you in hot waves as he licked you through it—slow, possessive, like he was claiming every part of you.

By the time he pulled away, you were limp on the bed, gasping for air, skin burning.

He climbed over you, kissed you again—deep, messy—and you tasted yourself on his tongue. It made you whimper into his mouth.

“Need you,” you whispered, fumbling for his belt. “Now.”

He caught your wrist, stopping you.

“Not yet.”

You blinked, dazed. “Sae…”

“I said not yet.”

Before you could protest, he flipped you onto your stomach and pressed a hand to the curve of your back.

“Up. Knees.”

You obeyed instantly.

The sound of his belt sliding free was like a gunshot. You looked back over your shoulder just in time to see him roll on a condom, his cock hard and thick, already dripping.

He knelt behind you, one hand on your waist, the other guiding himself to your entrance. When he pushed in—slow and deep—you gasped, face buried in the sheets.

The stretch was intense. Perfect.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “So tight. Always so good for me.”

He gave you a moment, then pulled out halfway and slammed back in. You cried out, and he groaned low.

His pace started slow but heavy—each thrust deliberate, angled, devastating. The sound of skin slapping echoed in the room, your moans filling the spaces between.

“Sae—harder—”

“You can take it,” he growled. “You want to be fucked dumb, don’t you?”

You nodded desperately, biting your lip.

His hand slid up your back, fisted in your hair, and pulled you up until your back was against his chest.

“You’re mine,” he breathed into your ear. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped.

“Louder.”

“I’m yours—Sae, I’m yours—”

His hand moved between your legs, rubbing tight circles on your clit as he kept pounding into you, relentless and rough and perfect.

Your orgasm hit you like fire. You cried out his name as your body shook, pleasure ripping through you in waves. He didn’t stop. He kept going, chasing his own release.

He came with a curse, slamming deep into you, breath ragged against your neck as he spilled inside the condom. His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you there, grounding himself in your body.

After a moment, he pulled out slowly, breath still uneven, and laid down beside you. You collapsed into his chest, still trembling.

Neither of you spoke for a minute. Then:

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

You nodded against him, still trying to catch your breath.

Sae ran a hand through your hair, fingers slow and gentle now—so unlike the man who just fucked you senseless.

“You keep looking at me like that,” he said, voice low, “I won’t let you leave this bed.”

“Who said I want to?”

His lips twitched. Not quite a smile, but close.

And when he kissed your forehead, you knew the answer to a question he hadn’t asked yet:

Yes, you were his. Every part.

[bratreligion]

LOOK WHAT YOU DID FEATURING CONNIE SPRINGER | CHAPTER TWO

"it's all about you, whatever i do. i could be a player but it's not my truth."

SYNOPSIS a spontaneous night out leads to a mix of emotions and new relations.

CHAPTER ONE hiiii chapter two is HERE! i tried to do my best to get my plan as clear and constructed as i could this time. okay so this has a 6k wc, mentions of drinking and smoking, and the word lust.

“so, [♡], do you have somebody?” a tone woven with genuine innocence let the words flow in a way that wouldn’t annoy you, differing heavily from the sensual curiosity of the men who usually asked. stroking your left thumb over the soft wooden material of a makeup brush, a heavy weight rested with the faint beating in your chest, the air growing thicker as you took a hesitant breath. pondering, you mindlessly blended the coral-toned blush into the apple of your client sasha’s rosy cheeks, the soft bristles aligning with the sheer freckles that adorned her face. it wasn’t a difficult question to answer because you had no one special in your life, and that story didn’t require much. the hard part was knowing that had been your answer for three years now, as if cupid had shot you with an anti-love arrow. “i know you’ve got a few people blowing up your line.”

you panted, shyly shrugging as you shook your head. “nah, nobody’s on my line these days.” sasha scoffed as her golden eyes bunched up, looking at you in disbelief. 

“i don’t believe that. you must be tellin’ them all no.” sasha giggled, the natural tint of her cheeks intensifying the color of the blush you had applied. 

you let out a low mutter of amusement as you lightly patted loose powder into her dewy skin, eyeing your work carefully. “something like that… maybe it just isn’t my time.”

in all honesty, it had long been your time. throughout your life, dating was never something you purposely engaged in. most of the time, love found its way to you. the last time you had been in a relationship was three years ago, the last time you truly cared about someone. your relationship was the kind of fairy tale that most people only fantasized about at your age. it was passionate–the kind of relationship that made you feel like a dumb teenager, head over heels, experiencing a summer fling for the first time. every morning, you’d wake up with your cheeks as high as your brows, exhilarated as if the sun shone brighter each day you were with him. picnics in the park with home-cooked meals, joint wash days, spontaneous road trips in the middle of the night, and handpicked flowers at your door every two weeks. there was never a dull moment with him, whether you were coming home to his tattooed arms providing you with a warm embrace, or if he was wiping salty tears from your puffy cheeks after a long day of working. it was sensual, some of the deepest intimacy you had ever experienced in your life, and that wasn’t even including the mind-blowing sex that got your body pressed into the bed anytime you wanted. sometimes, you couldn’t even think about how bittersweet that part of your life was. you were long over him, but, truthfully, some nights you got lonely and thought about why it was over.

the love didn’t stop coming out of the blue or on one random tuesday; he was never that kind of man, so you never woke up and wondered if he would stop loving you. he never cheated. you trusted him enough, so you knew that. and you weren’t tired of each other. it was simply a matter of life taking its course on two people who loved each other, putting things like school, careers, and work in the way of providing time for one another. football had been his passion for most of his life, and the moment he felt like he could be something, once he felt the way the bright overhead lights shone upon him as a kid, he knew he wanted to go pro. he was nothing like the others in his age group, who were mere stars in the making. he was already a star. he knew it, you knew it, the football scouts knew it, and everyone knew it. but with everyone knowing that fact came the more time his talent demanded from him, unfortunately leaving your relationship at the bottom of his list of priorities. you never blamed him for chasing his dreams, as you were doing the same thing, attending the best cosmetology school in the state and getting your license to one day open your own salon. things happened, and people changed. it had been around a year since you’d heard from him, and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen him, aside from when he was on live television, praised for leading his team to another victory. you were proud to see him achieve what he had worked so hard for during your relationship. still, you were hurt that you had to part from the man you hoped to marry and grow old with. breakups hurt.

a thick lump had formed in the back of your throat, shy of your tongue. you swallowed, taking a deep breath, and batting your lashes a few times to rid yourself of the tears that had crept amidst your reminiscing. pushing aside old feelings, you focused intently on sasha as you spewed setting spray onto the canvas of her face. you hadn’t heard a word of what she was blabbing about, doing the best you could to smile and look as if you had an understanding of her words. “mhm.” you mumbled. 

“and these men are getting worse and worse by the generation, i mean, since when is a simple date too much–oh my god,” she gasped, her jaw falling slack mid-sentence as she finally realized you had spun the chair around for her to look in the mirror. while lost in a daydream, ‘listening’ to her endless chatter, you had completed her makeup without even noticing the amount of time that had passed. sasha’s cherry red acrylics hovered over her cheeks as her once fiery expression softened into admiration, the gentle flecks of gold in her eyes sparking under the vanity lights. the glitter in the gloss on her lips danced as her mouth formed an oval shape as she tilted forward, her lips quirked up. “you’re amazing, do you know that?”

giggling, you couldn’t help but grin as you shifted on one foot. “thanks, sash. i’m glad you like it.”

“like it?” she gasped, moving her false lashes up and down in the mirror before turning around dramatically. “i love it. no wonder you’re so high in demand.”

you coyly bit back your smile as you gathered the products you had used on her face, neatly tucking each into its designated slot in your suitcase kit. sasha rummaged through her purse like a mad woman for a few seconds until she pulled out a stout wad of cash neatly bound by a hot pink rubber band. as always, you pretended not to see the payment out of the corner of your eye until she set it on the table next to you, her elated mood stamped on her face. you didn’t bother counting the cash before tucking it in your wallet; sasha always had your money and a more than generous tip, you weren’t worried about that. instead, you examined the two white slips of stock paper tucked under the rubber band. curiously, you adjusted your eyes until you could read the tiny, gold-printed letters on the cards.

ENTRANCE PASS FOR ONE PARTY, COURTESY OF PLUTO RECORDS. 2934 KAZINO AVE, ATLANTA, GEORGIA.

“sash,” you sucked your teeth as your eyes creased but you couldn’t help the low giggle that left your mouth. waving the small pieces of paper, you sighed, “what are these for?”

sasha squeezed her lips into a thin line, cheeks almost bursting with air as she blew into them. “a party?”

“what kind of party?” you pressed.

sasha pretended to be distracted, glancing around the dressing room as she gently tapped the tips of her nails on the plastic of her phone case. “it’s an event downtown, and a few artists are hosting.” she spat out.

“and why are you giving me these tickets, exactly?” crossing your arms, you raised a brow. “you know i don’t exactly fit in at those types of things.”

“i know, you say it whenever i invite you out. i just think you need to allow yourself a little more time to have fun! you need to let loose, drink a white claw or somethin’, meet a guy–or a girl. just think about it,” you hated to admit it, but she wasn’t entirely wrong. it had been two weeks since you went out, when you’d met connie, whose name mocked you at every job you took. ymir and eren, being their usual selves, had bugged you about joining them at whatever function they could find, to which you declined. after your encounter with connie, ymir was in your ear for days, rambling about how you ‘fumbled the bag’ and that the two of you could’ve been ‘drinking with rich people’ by now. you didn’t think you’d hear the end of her reaction to you rejecting connie.

a slight grin curled your lips upwards. you hadn’t seen ymir in about four days, and according to her, the two of you were long overdue for a hangout, even if it meant spending the night watching disney classics in your condo. a night out didn’t sound terrible, the longer you thought about it. you placed a hand on your hip as you rolled your neck. ymir was going to love this. “fine. what time does it start?”

“man, we should’ve gotten more shots from the liquor store. i’m not drinking lemon drops and pink whitney all night.” ymir dragged her words as she poured a second shot of hennessy into the icy blue liquid in her styrofoam cup. you shook your head, laughing as you watched her frantically mix the alcohol with the juice. she was going to be fucked up in a few hours, likely off the concotion she was mixing and the lemon drops she was complaining about. “i’m tryna get white girl wasted.”

“aren't you half white?” her piercing gaze locked onto you, glimmers of annoyance flickering in her eyes as you couldn’t help but chuckle. 

the air coming in through the windows of ymir’s jeep cut at the skin on your cheeks like daggers as you rested your head against the top of the seat, inhaling and exhaling at the refreshing feeling. despite the bass-boosted music that blared from her speakers and her somewhat reckless take on driving, the passenger seat of her car was one of your favorite places to be. ymir had picked you up around ten minutes after the clock read ten, after much relentless arguing over the phone about what to wear until the two of you were satisfied with your outfits. dressing up had always been a struggle for you, making it hard to step out of your comfort zone. thankfully, ymir was there to push you out of it. she had a job in tailoring for models who walked runways, a fact that shocked most people, so she thought of herself as a fashion guru or whatever. to be frank, you thought she just liked bossing you and her girlfriend around, but you’d never tell her that.

you adjusted the white, black lettered low-cut top that exposed some of your cleavage, the glitter from your body oil dazzling under the moonlight. it was ymir’s choice, alongside the laced-up jeans, snug on your thighs, and the open-toed black heels in the back of your closet. you’d taken down the braids in your head around a week ago, opting for straight, black bundles and a middle part. ymir had one up on you when it came to dressing, but accessorizing was your jam, judging from the blacked out watch on your left wrist, hoop earrings, the dainty chain around your neck, and the chrome clutch you brought, which ymir had no choice but to carry when you got tired of holding it.

the ride to the venue, which was a penthouse, was supposed to be a thirty-minute drive, but ymir made it more like twenty minutes, some unknown rapper's music blasting from her speakers and announcing your arrival. if you hadn’t known why you were there, you would’ve naturally assumed the scene was some gathering for celebrities. bentleys, bugattis, ferraris, and porsches parked alongside the designated parking garage that the security had guided ymir to. once the two of you entered the garage and got out of the car, you noticed hundreds of people hustling to reach the penthouse entrance. some had bulky men in black flanking them on both sides. sparkling chains and rolexes passed your wandering eyes in quick flashes as you ran your eyes over the familiar, but not closely known, faces. faces you’d worked with, faces you’d seen on tv, faces you had vinyls of in your place. it wasn’t like the block party, where maybe one or two famous people appeared. this was the real deal.

“come on, we’ve gotta get in there. i think i just saw rubi rose.” ymir smirked as she scrunched up the coils around her face, cockily peering at her reflection through her phone camera. 

"girl, bye, rubi is the last girl here checking for you." you scoffed and rolled your eyes, slapping your clutch against ymir’s chest. “i’m telling historia, by the way.”

the penthouse was simply the epitome of rich. the ceilings were as high as the sky, with dim lights and camera flashes illuminating the bustling setting. the pulsating beats of heavy rap music resonated through the sleek black marble floors as you and ymir stepped out of the penthouse elevator. one dollar bills and confetti practically covered your path as she naturally took the lead, gradually wandering into the deepening sea of bodies with you close behind her. eyes enlarging as you found yourself further into the depths of the crowd, the pungent aroma of sativa and liquor grew more powerful, thick swirls of white smoke floating beyond your height. you couldn’t begin to count the number of voices conversing and singing along to the music around you. there were sections reserved for specific people of importance, some containing a few social media influencers, while others housed those subject to the benefits of nepotism. frankly, you didn’t even know where ymir was taking the two of you. all sasha said was to ‘have fun’ and to ‘get out there’ regardless of her absence. 

a lengthy bar-sized counter was against one of the tall sides of the area, alcohol, blunts, pills, and half-drunk glasses crowding the space. the bar was abuzz with a lively crowd, intoxicated laughter and chatter filling the air as people jostled for drinks. you muttered a few ‘excuse us' as you moved through the bodies, eventually finding yourself and ymir a small area to situate yourselves in. you hopped on a plush bar stool, ymir using a hand to hoist you up as you almost stumbled. she stood close by you, watching for any eyes that lurked. it was the typical front she put up to scare off any men plotting against you. “‘mir, we should’ve stayed home. what the hell are we going to do here?” you shouted over the music.

“i don’t know, but we aren’t going home. i’m not letting you back in the house that easily,” her braces twinkled under the lighting. “i’m about to order us some drinks. you want a margarita or somethin’?”

you cocked your head to the side, shrugging. “strawberry with a lemon sugar rim.”

due to your introverted nature, you were sure you’d be dragging ymir out of the party thirty minutes in, usually not enticed by settings like the one you were in. well, that's what you thought.

you swayed your hips to the music surrounding you, the song now more melodic and sensual to accompany the way your body moved under the now fluorescent colors. little did you know, a multitude of eyes were drawn to you, enchanted by you like moths fluttering around a flickering flame. ymir was beside you, a glass of d'usse threatening to spill with her every movement as she inhaled the rolled-up plant between her fingertips, her presence no longer doing much to intimidate those around you two. you’d seen a couple of clients here and there, most asking about your next availability as ymir kept her composure on the outside, fangirling in her head. a few even flirted with her, boosting her large ego. as much as you couldn’t believe it, you were having fun. not one but two margaritas have coursed through your bloodstream in an hour, providing you with the liquid courage you didn’t know you needed. the sweet shade of your brown skin glistened under the lights as your sobriety taunted you through slightly blurred visions. you looked good-you felt good.

ymir wanted yet another drink, but you didn’t complain because, as much as you exaggerated her actions when she was off that liquor, you knew she could handle her alcohol. you strutted towards the bar with a bit more pep in your step compared to earlier, unknown pairs of eyes watching the way your ass swam in your tight pants. ignoring the murmurs about how sexy you were from shameless partygoers, you patiently waited with ymir at the bar. however, the service wasn’t as quick as it was earlier.

“do you think they’d get us out of here if i jumped over the counter and made my drink?” ymir huffed as her eyebrows twitched in annoyance. “because this is some bullshit, bro.”

you giggled. “hell fuckin’ yeah. these people don’t play that shit.”

it was as if a heavy weight sat on your chest as your breathing became irregular, slowing then speeding up, tightening the muscles in your chest. it was hot. people swarmed the room like bees, and it wasn’t exactly the warmest month of the year, judging by the way heat blasted through the overhead vents. not exactly the best environment to get ‘fucked up’ in. you shifted your stance, feet uncomfortably squealing in the soles of your heels as you looked around for a spot, something colder perhaps.

“hey, ‘mir?” a set of glass-panelled windows caught your eye, and a set of open doors at the top of the staircase in the corner of the room. it wasn’t occupied like the bottom floor. it was practically empty up there. lerfect, you thought. “i’m gonna go outside for a second. you see that balcony upstairs? i’ll be up there.”

ymir squinted suspiciously. “why, are you okay? what’s wrong? i’ll come with you–”

“‘mir, i’m fine, i promise. i just need some air, it’s hot as hell in here. i’ll be quick.” you reassured her, but that look of worry never faded from her freckled face despite your words.

“if you say so. i’ll come up there when i get my drink. you know the drill if anyone bothers you.”

it was as if you commanded the attention of everyone you passed as your heels clicked against the floor while strutting through the crowd. the noise faded as if you were underwater as you reached the top of the steps, a wave of relief washing over you as the chilly breeze bleeding through the doors brushed over you. you exhaled as you stepped onto the concrete leading outside. you assumed the strong smell of weed, heavier than before, was just the original scent of the city. practically everyone was out, and everyone was smoking weed.

outside, you leaned against one of the glass panels, smiling as your chest loosened, bathing in the little moonlight that could reach under the balcony overhead. it was a party, so you knew you wouldn’t be the only person outside looking for a getaway. a man, taller and lean, stood further to your right, raising a blunt to his lips every few seconds as he slouched against the brick wall placed along the walls of the space. it was dark, with only the flashing lights from downstairs peeking over the second floor to provide illumination. still, you could make out a few details, like how the diamonds on his shoes shone, how his well-coordinated outfit complemented his relaxed posture. it may have been the alcohol delaying the speed of your thinking or the secondhand smoke, but you hadn’t noticed how familiar the tattoos that mapped his skin were, red and black dancing over his muscles as they flexed with the softest of movements. he didn’t seem to be paying any mind to his surroundings either, mindlessly gazing off into the night as the live activity of the city reflected off his hazel orbs. 

but it was when he finally turned his head, looking down at his shoes for a few seconds before lifting it for good, now looking at you. it had clicked when you stared at the vibrant burgundy of his overgrown, buzzed hair. at that point, you didn’t care that you were staring, even when his low eyes met your own. your body tightened, the tension from two weeks ago settling into you like an old house as you watched his eyes flicker over you. your face, your body, your outfit, your lips. his mouth twitched, once, twice, before turning upward, iced-out canines putting the stars in the sky to shame.

a thousand nerves ran up and down your back as your lips parted, words failing to fall off your tongue. but there it was, that raspiness laced between curiosity all over again, doing all the talking for you. “is that you, mami?” you swallowed the wad of saliva threatening to drip from your bottom lip as you shakily took a deep breath. it was him. connie fucking springer, again.

“hi, mr. springer.” you shyly spoke, turning your head so he didn't see how you smiled upon hearing the name.

connie freed a cloud of smoke from his nostrils, waving the scent away with his hands as he raised his chin, taking just a few steps closer to where your antsy body rested against the window. “i told you about that shit, girl. what you doin’ here? you came to see me?”

a light scoff blew from your mouth as you moved in your position. “boy, you wish. i needed some air, i’m not one of those fangirls in your section.”

“yeah, i do wish. i thought about yo ass for the rest of the day after we met.” you tried to busy yourself by focusing on the ground, but you could smell him moving towards you, his raw, husky scent oddly masking the weed that was all too powerful to ignore. the tips of his shoes lined up with yours. connie was close. he watched you shift below him, satisfaction soaking over him. “that’s not what i meant, though. what are you doin’ here with all these people? i thought this wasn’t your crowd, princesa. i would’ve found you again if it was.”

“princesa? that’s a new one.” you gazed up at him through faux purity, somewhat intrigued by the curiosity embedded in his tongue. connie was as handsome as you recalled, all confident and stoic in his way as he studied you all over again. liquid courage was a real thing, judging by the way you gradually swiped your tongue over the pink of your lips, lip gloss long gone. you lifted your chin, wanting to seem as tall and indestructible as he did. “i got an invite from a friend. she said I needed to let loose or whatever. this isn’t my scene, but i haven’t been having a terrible time.”

“yeah?” connie’s eyes were magnetized to yours as he reached above your head and drove the joint into the glass, putting the fire out before tucking it behind his ear. a bold smirk laid across his face as he towered over you, a shiver racing down your spine. his earlobes were adorned with an array of piercings, a striking detail you hadn't caught the first time you met him. 

you nodded as you crossed your arms. “yeah.”

“that’s wassup. i like that you tryin’ something new, especially if it means i get to see you again.” rolling your eyes, you shook your head as if his words weren’t meant to pry at the smile on your face. “you look real nice too. i almost forgot how fine you were, ‘s been a minute, eh?”

connie moved like he didn’t know what he looked like, and in the moment, it drove you crazy. he was the walking definition of charming with his inquisitive tone and decorated teeth, his presence alone being a problem of its own. but you knew he knew. he couldn’t help himself. “it’s been two weeks, con. you ain’t miss me that bad.” it was the liquor making you regret rejecting him two weeks ago, right? 

“shit, i gotta know you to miss you but we already had that conversation, ain’t we?” 

“why didn’t you ask eren for my number or even my instagram if i made such a big impression on you?” you were teasing, honestly. you didn’t think your small interaction with connie meant anything, but you were stalling for time, whether you wanted to admit it or not. you might’ve liked talking to him, as brief as the conversations were.

“because,” connie leaned down by your ear, the warmth of his words hitting your neck, melting your hard exterior like fire on ice. “i don’t wanna get it the easy way, i wanna work for that shit. i meant what i said, you a pretty ass fuckin’ girl and i’m tryna know you, but i have to earn it. no es cierto?”

his lips were close enough to hit your neck, positioned just below your sweet spot on your neck if he were to fall, and it had you trembling to say the least. you could hear how his teeth ground together as he stressed his words, voice deepening but still sounding as enticing as it did minutes ago. his accent was thicker than you remembered, the words you knew sounding foreign as they rang in your ear. lips parting, your tongue twitched helplessly inside your mouth as the words in your head failed to form. 

“what? cat got your tongue?

a series of vibrations abruptly drew your gaze to your phone in your hand, grasping your attention like a sudden jolt of electricity. your eyes widened as you gaped at connie before looking at your screen. three anxious coded messages from ymir lit up your screen, dancing in your notification center as an indication that she had managed to break through your do-not-disturb feature. connie didn’t have a care in the world as he looked down at the messages, laughing softly upon reading them. “cinderella’s gotta go?”

“oh, hush, boy. i told her i’d be a couple of minutes. i didn’t think i’d see you, of all people, out here. you were distracting me.” for the first time during your talk with connie, you were smiling with all your teeth, fueling his ego like gasoline to a fire.

“is that so? If i ain’t know any better, i’d think you were enjoying talkin’ to me, mami.” he had backed up a few steps, taking in your appearance from the ‘far’ distance.

“something like that.”

connie bit down on his bottom lip, hands cusping together as he twisted his rings up and down his slender digits, watching as you leaned against the door frame. your fingers grazed the cool glass of the open patio door while one foot rested inside the sleek penthouse, the other lingering on the balcony with him. eyes raking up and down the curves that entailed your figure, he let out a laugh that resembled something of yearning, throwing his head back. “is this goodbye, princesa?”

your gaze darted to the staircase just a few feet away, then back to connie, where you batted your lashes playfully. grasping the door frame, you let your hips sway enticingly as you glided toward him, embodying a sense of newfound confidence as you shook your head. connie arched an eyebrow, his arms crossed tightly as a look of interest spread across his face. you were closer than he was before, the mischievous fog of your intentions radiating from you as you locked your gaze with his. what he didn’t know was that you had tracked every move he had made during your time together, specifically when he moved his phone from his back pocket to the one in the front. a grin nothing short of wicked took over your features as you lazily glided the tips of your acrylics against the metal and jewels embedded in his belt. he never once broke eye contact, but he could feel what you were doing in more places than one. you brushed your thumb over the detailing, your touch masked with innocence, yet lust was all around the two of you. hooking one finger into the depths of his pocket, you pulled out his phone and turned the screen towards him, waving it in his face until the device unlocked, and connie didn’t move an inch, intoxicated by the sheer sight of you.

you opened the phone, not paying attention to how his apps were childishly sprawled across his home screen as you clicked the green phone icon. the bright numbers on the keypad reflected off your eyes as you typed in your phone number, sending yourself a simple exclamation point so he’d later see you in his recent messages. you’d leave it up to him to decide what to save you as.

“i gotta go, okay?” with a playful laugh, you tucked the device back into his pocket, looking up at him with eyes filled with amusement. “bye, connie.”

connie stood frozen for a moment, a wide grin spreading across his face as he watched you effortlessly spin on your heel, gliding away from him with effortless grace. the air crackled with an undeniable tension, thick and electric from the words left unspoken and the lingering glances. he felt a mix of shock and delight wash over him as he took in the sight of you, your demeanor carefree and confident, as if the moment weighed as much as a feather. as you walked away, his heart raced, and a foolish smile settled on his lips, knowing that somehow, something had shifted. “bye, [♡].”

“you’re not giving me enough details, [♡]. what did he say? did he ask you out? hello, i need more information–” ymir’s eyes practically popped out of her head when you informed her about your second meeting with connie, her nails digging into your skin as she held onto you for shock relief in the car. by now, you’d told her the story at least six times, yet she insisted that you had left out a detail or two, asking a question for every bit of the tale you told.

“ymir, i’ve told you everything from what weed it smelled like he was smoking to the tones he said everything in. what more do you need to know?” you yawned, rolling your eyes. the two of you left the event about twenty minutes ago, with ymir arriving at your condo faster than expected. you’d left about twenty minutes after your run-in with connie, who, strangely enough, was nowhere to be found for the rest of the night. you’d even started to wonder if you had imagined seeing him because connie was hard to miss. 

ymir put the car in park in front of the building you lived in, close enough to the door so that she’d be able to watch you get inside. she huffed and looked at you with a raised brow. “everything. you’re gonna be dating connie springer in a minute, i think this shit is important. think about the couple's interviews, oh my god–”

“that’s my sign to get my ass in the house. goodnight, ‘mir.” you opened the door of her jeep, ignoring all her protests but the one reminding you to text her when you were inside.

much to your surprise, you enjoyed your night out. You hadn’t expected to. It may have been cliche, but you were a homebody, unlike most people your age, who lived for a night out. any other time, you would’ve taken a night in watching glee or something over being surrounded by drunk celebrities, but you weren’t a party pooper. as early as three sips into your margarita, you were on the dance floor, dancing around the wealthiest people in the world with no care in the world, even though all that hopping around in four-inch heels cost you the ability to comfortably walk on your feet.

as you stepped through your front door, the enchanting scent of peony enveloped you like a warm, comforting hug, a sense of familiarity you had missed during your night. the heels had been off your feet the second you stepped into the carpeted elevator, allowing you to glide across the hardwood floors from your living room to the plush carpeting of your bedroom. you flung yourself onto your bed with a dramatic sigh, the fabric of your clothes clung uncomfortably as you sank into the soft mattress, closing your eyes for a second. your arms flailed across the soft silk comforter as you nuzzled your head into the mattress, eyelids getting heavier the longer you spent in the position, dozing off like a newborn.

a deep, lingering groan escaped your lips as your phone buzzed insistently against your chest, pulling you reluctantly from your sleep. one jerk, then two, indicating someone had texted you twice. your eyelids fluttered open slowly, a nasty scowl spreading on your lips as you snatched your phone from your bra. rubbing your eyes, not caring too much about messing up your extensions, as you squinted at the blue lights glaring at your retinas. not two, but four messages sat in your notification center.

the first two were from ymir, who cursed you for not telling her you made it inside and told you a passive-aggressive goodnight. sometimes you forgot to tell her you were in the house, it was just one of those nights. you huffed as you worked your thumbs to text her back a swift apology, telling her goodnight too before responding to the other messengers that had woken you from your sleep. an unsaved number sat at the top of your messages from around ten minutes ago, the area code and sender unknown.

(347) xxx-xxx

mami is it really u ?

a bit of your irritation faded as you realized who the message was from, smiling to yourself as you typed a quick response.

i don’t know, mr springer, is it?

it was late, one in the morning to be exact, so you didn’t expect an immediate response. he was likely still out clubbing, anyway. you exited the messages, looking for the last one you’d respond to before heading to bed for the night. you adjusted your eyes as you read the message, not paying too close attention to the sender before clicking the text. a line of inconsistent text messages was displayed across the screen, the last from over a year ago. your heart suddenly began thumping against your chest erratically, as if it were going to burst from your chest and onto your bed. lips parting, you sat up, your eyebrow supporting your body weight as your head nearly hung from your neck, jaw falling lower and lower.

it had been over a year since he last checked on you amidst his frantic football career. he was the last person you expected to hear from that night, as you anticipated a million messages from clients you met while out before receiving a text from him. aside from catching up, you figured there was nothing more to say as time passed. 

a ball of nerves threatened to burst from your throat as your breath hitched, rereading the text he’d sent you over and over again, as if you were convinced you’d imagined it.

ony. 

you looked good tonight, ian think i would see you there

exhaling deeply, your fingers shook, the phone wobbling as you typed.

you saw me?

one, two, three, four, five seconds.

ony.

hy i saw you.

you hard to miss mama

[unhakies]

i see that ur requests r open… heh… give me a leehan x idol!secretly a marine biologist reader NOW. like reader is a good idol friend thats done a collabd either bnd and leehan really liked her and then found out she does marine biology professionally behind her idol life and he js falls in love THANK YEEEWWW😛😛😛😛

the tides between us. k. leehan (req!)

pairing: idol!leehan x idol!marine biologist fem reader.

word count: 716

genre: fluff, romance, oneshot

notes — i was gonna go to sleep but this was SUCH a good and cute idea that i HAD to whip something up real quick.

you weren't trying to hide anything. well, not really anyways. but in an industry where one can get hated on for simply 'being smart' it's obvious why you would keep that part of your life behind.

nobody noticed.

well, that's what you told yourself.

you met the boynextdoor members during a special year-end stage collab, and needless to say you've been close since. there was woonhak made you laugh until your cheeks hurt, or even jaehyun who dragged you into chaotic tiktok challenges you definitely didnt want to take part in.

but then there was leehan.

he didn't say much at first. but you could always feel his eyes on you.

you sat in the corner of the practice room, cooling down after a tough practice session, tongue poking out of your mouth in concentration as you scribbled away in your notebook.

you were so engrossed in drawing you hadn't even noticed someone was standing over you until they spoke.

"nice whale."

you almost screamed.

"oh my GOD, leehan you scared me." you put a hand over your chest. you breathed out a large breath before continuing. "thank you, it was just a little doodle." you smiled before putting your book to the side.

he sat down next to you, examining the drawing. "you draw often?" he asked, flipping through the pages.

"mhm, sometimes. it helps me think." he just nodded in response, stopping back to your recent drawing. "i think i've seen this species before." he started.

you froze, looking up at him with wide eyes. "huh?"

"the whale. it's dorsal fin, it's head shape. it's pretty easy to tell that its a sei whale." he pointed as he names the characteristics.

you stared at him. you knew he liked fish, but wow.

he gave his signature grin, "i have a knack for this stuff."

you blinked. "well, you're right, it is a sei whale."

he smirked. "lucky guess."

but you knew it wasn't luck at all.

he was reading you like an open book.

days passed by, and it was like he was in a true crime documentary, collecting evidence like his life depended on it.

when he dropped by your dorms to pick something up, he spotted the plethora of sea life books on your bookshelf. he noticed your necklace, the small seashell shaped pendant catching his eye. or even the way your eyes lingered on his fish themed phone case.

the two of you were left in the break room. the rest of the members left to do god knows what. you were doodling in your fish themed sketchbook again, as leehan kept his gaze fixed on you.

you looked up at him.

"are you trying to figure me out?" you chuckled softly.

"a little."

"so, whats your verdict?" you closed your book and sat forward.

"i think you care about a lot of things most people overlook,"

you swallow and look away, you couldn't bare to look at him in the eyes. it's like the room got smaller.

"and i think that's beautiful." he finished. you mustered up the courage to speak. "thank you.." you said, cheeks burning.

he just gave a knowing smile and said nothing else.

the next day, you walked into your break room, your eyes landing on the familiar fish cover of your book. but this time, there was a yellow sticky note on it.

"your whale drawing the other day was really good. ps; i named him seihan." - L

you laughed, startling the staff members who were working on stuff around the room, but you could care less.

leehan found a part of you you thought nobody would see. he didn't just accept it. he liked it.

he liked you.

your staff mentioned something about someone leaving a gift for you in your break room. again.

you didn't need a degree to know it was leehan.

you opened up the small pale blue box. inside a seashell, delicate and smooth with soft blue and pink lines, and a note.

"for when you can't hear the ocean, hold this to your ear. i hope it helps you feel as close to home as it does for me." - L

you bite your lip.

maybe the tide has fully come in

and you might be ready to let it.

perm taglist; @sh0dor1

[blondechariot]

✨~Seventeen reaction to you asking them to take your virginity~✨

pairing: Reader x Seventeen

warnings: none really, some fluff and suggestive topic i guess

disclaimer: not my Gif!

Mingyu

Late at night, you're lying on your couch together after a movie. It’s quiet. You’re resting half on top of him, and he’s gently running his fingers along your arm.

You say it simply: “I’ve never slept with anyone before.”

He pauses, stiffens slightly, but doesn’t freak out.

You add, “And I think I want it to be with you.”

He takes a second. Then he tilts his head to look at you. “For real?”

You nod.

He blows out a slow breath, then murmurs, “Okay… I just— I don’t want to be the reason you regret something important.”

“I won’t regret it,” you say. “Not if it’s with you.”

His hand moves from your arm to your jaw. He studies you for a long moment. “Look, I talk too much when I’m nervous. I might trip over your socks. I’ll probably laugh at the worst time.”

“Sounds pretty real to me.”

He smiles, soft and slightly stunned. “I don’t want you to think you’re just a good decision. You’re not that. You’re a real one.”

Jeonghan

You're lying on his hotel bed, watching a bad movie. Your feet are on his lap. Everything feels casual… until it’s not.

“I’ve never had sex before,” you say, casually.

Jeonghan blinks, then turns to stare at you. “Wait… you just drop that on me? Between pizza and awful Netflix dialogue?”

You smirk. “Was the timing off?”

He scoffs. “Slightly. You don’t just say, ‘Hey, I want my first time to be with you’ and then go back to eating chips.”

“I didn’t even have chips.”

“Exactly. You’re serious.”

You nod.

Jeonghan exhales and suddenly looks more serious than you’ve ever seen him. “I joke a lot. You know that. But… that’s big. That’s not just something you throw around.”

“I trust you. That’s why I said it.”

He stares for a long beat, then gives a quiet laugh. “Okay. But if we do this, and you laugh while I undress, I swear—”

“Only if you’re wearing neon socks.”

“Shit. I am wearing neon socks.”

Joshua

It’s late. You’re sitting on the floor in his living room, backs against the couch, sipping tea. The rain outside makes everything feel calm and kind of safe.

You say it gently: “I’ve never been with anyone before.”

Joshua turns his head slightly. No big reaction. Just listening.

“And… if I ever decide to do it, I think I’d want it to be with you.”

He nods slowly. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I don’t have some checklist or anything. I just want it to feel right. And with you, it kinda does.”

He smiles a little, watching your fingers tap the side of your cup.

“Well… no candles, no dramatic soundtrack,” he murmurs. “Just… you. And me. Probably both nervous.”

“Sounds about right.”

“And just so you know,” he adds, “I’m gonna ask like, ten times if you’re okay.”

“And I’ll tell you ten times that I am.”

He grins. “Deal.”

Jun

You’re lounging on his couch, tangled up together with a bag of chips and some dumb YouTube video playing. You’re both laughing when suddenly, you just say it.

“I’ve never had sex.”

Jun pauses mid-bite. “Okay… and?”

“And I think I’d want to do it with you.”

He raises an eyebrow. “So no Netflix? Just… chill?”

You roll your eyes. “That was terrible.”

“Yeah, sorry. I panic-joke.”

Then he sobers a bit, pushes his hair back. “Look, I won’t pretend I’ve got this all figured out. But I do know how to be gentle. And how to take my time.”

“That’s all I want.”

He leans toward you, close enough for you to feel the warmth off his skin. “If we do this, we go slow. And if you laugh at me mid-way, I’m cool with that too.”

You smile. “Same.”

Hoshi

You’re in a dance studio late at night. After messing around and half-practicing, you both collapsed on the floor, out of breath and laughing. The mood is light. Then you hit him with it.

“I’ve never had sex before.”

Hoshi pauses, still lying flat on the floor. “…Wait, what?”

“And I think… I want you to be my first.”

He shoots upright, hair a mess, wide-eyed. “You what?! Are you seriously dropping that while I’m sweaty and smell like ramen?”

You laugh. “Would you prefer I waited until you were clean and in a tuxedo?”

He stares at you, mouth slightly open, then grabs a water bottle and takes a huge gulp. “Okay… I’m officially sweating more now.”

You scoot closer. “You’re allowed to be nervous.”

He looks at you, softer now. “I joke because I don’t want to mess this up. I want it to be good for you, and… safe. And, like… warm?”

“Warm’s good,” you whisper.

He nods. “Then I’ll go slow. I’ll listen. I’ll shut up, even though that’s really hard for me.”

You grin. “You can talk. Just no catchphrases.”

He mock gasps. “So I can’t say ‘Let’s get it’ right before?”

“If you do, I’m leaving.”

Wonwoo

A cool, quiet evening in a park. You're sitting on a bench near the river, your shoulder pressed against his. The only sound is the wind through the leaves and the distant city noise. You’re quiet for a while before speaking.

“I’ve never done it before.”

Wonwoo doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t shift. He just waits, looking at the sky.

You go on, “If I ever do… I want it to be with you.”

He finally turns to look at you.

“Why me?”

You smile slightly. “Because you don’t treat me like I’m fragile. But you don’t push, either. You just… make me feel normal. In a good way.”

He studies you. No big expressions, no speeches.

“I’m not gonna romanticize this,” he says softly. “And I’m not gonna rush you.”

“I don’t need it to be poetic,” you say. “I just need it to feel safe.”

He nods once. “Then that’s exactly what I’ll give you.”

Woozi

You're in his studio, the soft glow of his monitor lighting the room. It’s late, you’re lying on the couch while he scrolls through files. You speak without moving.

“I’ve never had sex.”

He stops scrolling.

You continue, “And if I ever decide to, I want it to be with you.”

He turns slowly in his chair, frowning a little—not upset, just confused.

“That’s… a big thing to drop while I’ve got synth loops playing.”

You smirk. “Sorry. Didn’t want to make a whole speech.”

He rubs his neck. “Do you mean it? Or is this one of those emotional-in-the-dark things people say and regret later?”

“I mean it.”

He leans back, serious now. “I’m not great at this kind of stuff. I talk too little, overthink everything, and I’ll probably ask if you’re okay like… twenty times.”

You shrug. “That sounds perfect.”

He gives a breath of a laugh. “But just one rule—no writing a song about me afterward.”

DK

You’re parked on a hill overlooking the city lights, sitting in his car. Music’s playing low, your feet are up on the dash, and a bag of chips is open between you. It’s peaceful.

“I’ve never had sex before,” you say quietly.

DK drops a chip. “…Huh?”

You turn to him. “I mean it. And I want it to be with you.”

He goes completely still, staring at the windshield like it personally offended him. “I—are you joking?”

“Nope.”

He turns slowly. “Wait, for real? Right now, like… tonight?!”

You laugh. “Relax. I’m not seducing you next to the glove box.”

He groans and covers his face. “Why are you doing this to me? You know I’m the worst under pressure!”

You gently place your hand on his. “I trust you. That’s all this is.”

He looks at you, honest and wide-eyed. “I might talk too much. Or make dumb jokes. Or cry. Like a little bit. But I swear, I’ll take care of you.”

You smile. “I know.”

He takes your hand and kisses your knuckles, still nervous. “Okay. But like… maybe let me clean the chips off my lap first?”

Minghao

You're in a small art gallery after hours. Everyone else is gone, and you're cleaning up together. It’s quiet, peaceful—just the two of you between half-empty glasses and leftover hors d'oeuvres.

“I’ve never had sex before,” you say.

He puts the glass he’s holding down, very deliberately. Then looks at you.

You continue, “And I think… I want you to be my first.”

Minghao doesn’t speak right away. He leans against the wall and folds his arms, thinking. Then: “Why me?”

“Because you’re calm. Because you don’t perform. You just are. And when I’m with you, I feel like I can just be, too.”

He nods slowly, processing—not rushing to respond.

“I won’t make this some kind of fantasy,” he says. “But I will be present. With you. Not around you.”

You nod.

He walks over, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “We don’t have to plan it. No pressure. Just truth.”

You smile. “And maybe a really good playlist?”

He smirks. “Obviously.”

Seungkwan

You’re sitting together on his apartment balcony with some takeout and a view of the city. It's a warm night, and you’ve been joking around for hours—until you suddenly shift gears.

“I’ve never slept with anyone.”

Seungkwan stops mid-bite. “…Huh?”

“And I think… I’d like it to be with you.”

He swallows, wide-eyed. “Okay, wow. First of all—respectfully—could you not say that while I have seaweed in my teeth?”

You laugh. He doesn’t.

He runs a hand through his hair, nervous now. “Look, I’m gonna be real. I joke when I panic. But this? This is huge. And not because it’s about sex. It’s about you. Trust. Safety.”

“I know what I’m saying,” you reply. “You make me feel safe.”

He quiets down, suddenly serious.

“If we do this… I’ll overthink it. I’ll ask too many times if you’re okay. I’ll probably talk way too much afterward. But I’ll be honest. And I’ll care. So much.”

You nod.

Then he sighs, grinning again. “Okay but for real—if this is gonna happen, let me shower first. I wanna be at least somewhat legendary.”

Vernon

You’re sitting on the floor of his apartment, backs against the couch, listening to music and half-heartedly eating snacks. The light is low, the mood is relaxed.

“I’ve never slept with anyone,” you say.

He pauses. Doesn’t move. Just processes.

“And… if I do, I want it to be with you.”

Vernon looks over slowly. “You mean that?”

“Yeah.”

He nods—slow, steady. Then turns his head to face forward again. “…Cool.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s it? ‘Cool’?”

He smiles slightly. “I’m trying to play it cool. Is it working?”

“Barely.”

Then he looks at you properly. “Listen… I’m not gonna try to turn it into some movie moment. I’m not gonna promise you stars or flowers or a perfect memory.”

“I’m not asking for that.”

“Good. Because what I can promise is this: I’ll respect you. I’ll check in. And I’ll never act like this is about anyone but you.”

You exhale. “That’s all I want.”

He nods once more. “Okay. But we’re not playing my songs. That’d be super weird.”

S.Coups

You’re sitting together on a bench by the river late at night. He’s draped his hoodie over your shoulders, and there’s a calm silence between you—familiar and grounding.

“I’ve never been with anyone before,” you say.

He looks at you right away. Not shocked. Just… focused.

“And I want it to be you.”

He leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. Breathes in slow.

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

He nods, not saying anything for a moment. Then: “Look… I’ve done this before. I know what it can mean. I also know what it can mess up if someone isn’t ready.”

You wait.

“I don’t care about impressing you. I care about protecting you. And if you change your mind at any point—I’ll stop. Even if you just flinch. Or hesitate. I’ll stop.”

Your chest loosens a little. That’s exactly what you needed to hear.

“I don’t want a perfect night,” you say. “Just a real one.”

He looks over, really looks. “Then you’ve got me. No script. No rush. Just… us.”

Dino

You’re sitting cross-legged on the floor of his room, surrounded by snack wrappers and playing some ridiculous card game that neither of you is really following. You're both laughing, until you drop the line.

“I’ve never had sex.”

Dino stops. Freezes mid-gesture. “…Wait. For real?”

You nod. “And I think I want it to be with you.”

His eyes get huge. He drops his cards.

“Are you serious? Like—serious serious?”

“Yeah.”

He groans, covering his face. “Oh man, I thought you saw me as like… the goofy little brother.”

“Then you haven’t been paying attention.”

He peeks through his fingers, face flushed. “You know I’m gonna totally mess this up, right? I’ll trip. I’ll say something stupid. I’ll probably laugh.”

You smile. “I don’t need perfect. I need honest.”

He drops his hands. “Okay. Just… promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“I’m not your experiment. I’m not your ‘let’s just try this’ guy.”

“You’re not. You’re you. And that’s exactly why I chose you.”

He exhales. “Cool. Okay. Great. Just let me clean the snack dust off my bed first. Then we can… you know. Not rush into it awkwardly.”

You both laugh—and suddenly, it’s not so scary.

[txtzen]

drunk in love - c.sb

synopsis - it’s one drink too many, so what?

words - 600

pairing - soobin x reader

a loud thud from the front door awoke soobin from his deep slumber, making him groan and turn around to look at the time;

3:25am.

he mumbles to himself how the people on campus should go to sleep and stop acting like fools this late in the night, but nonetheless feeling his sleep state return as quick as it went.

3:30am.

feeling your hands shake and fumbling with your keys, you drop them a few times before finding the lock. “finally” you mumble as the door opens.

how you got inside your roommate's room is a mystery, but a smile forms from victory as you hiccup a few times before pulling the blanket off of his body.

“binnie~” hic–

you feel him moving a little before sitting up, confused by you and your drunken state.

“what the? — it’s 3am where have you been?”

hic– “hmm…i-i’ve missed hic– you so much binnie”

sure you were drunk, but you were home; why was he so upset? you could feel how angry he was, hearing him rambling about how irresponsible and clumsy you are, but really, that just made him hotter.

“why didn't you call me to asking me to pick you up?”

“why didn’t you text me your location?”

“what if something bad happened to you?”

he would rant about how taxi drivers are dangerous these days, how you couldn’t trust anyone these days and how bars aren’t safe anymore, yada yada yada. however you blink a few times, standing close to him, feeling wobbly, but flustered and completely turned on at how protective he was of you, for some reason.

“are you even listening to me? this is serious!” he groaned, truly annoyed at your ignorance.

“a-are you my dad?” you reply, feeling dizzy. “no, i don't think hic– so”

soobin feels guilty at how cute you look. hearing you slur your words wanted to make him stuff his cock in your mouth to make you shut up, but held the urge to. after all, you guys are simply assigned college roommates, nothing more. but despite being somewhat strangers still, he’d would try to usher you to his bed to make you sit down and help you get into some more comfortable clothes so you could rest for the night.

however, you had other plans.

you quickly get on your knees and grab the strings of his sweats, wanting to feel his hot cock in your mouth. the more your hands touched him, the more you heard his breathing pattern change. you pouted when he slapped your hands away, halting your actions.

“enough, you need to rest.”

“but soobin-” hic–

“just go to sleep already- hey!”

you pulled his sweats down to his ankles, revealing his hard cock from his confines. he felt terrible and truly embarrassed to be so turned on and knew how wrong it was but the way you looked up to him with your drunken sleepy state and needy eyes on all fours…. he couldn’t resist.

you were getting drool and spit all over the floor from how messily you sucked his cock. at first, he grimaced because he just can’t believe his innocent roommate is sucking him off

but filth overpowers everything else.

you’re just so excited and giggly… drool was all over his thighs and knees, you felt him push some of your hair to the side before seeing him taking a good look at your puffy eyes and lips, groaning at the sight.

“god- it’s bigger than i thought binnie”

his breath stops.

“oh y-yeah?”

boy was he going to be in for a long night.

[onyxluvjiro]

Ren Shirinami x Reader

SMUT 18+ Minors DNI

Prev … Next

- reader has a pussy

- you catch ren being a gooner (watching hentai)

- P in v, pretty vanilla tbh

- Haru and Towa set you up for disaster

- Smut under the cut

This wasn't supposed to happen, well a lot of things were never supposed to happen that end up happening. But out of all the things in the world that could happen, this definitely wasn't even on the top 10 billion. Ren’s brain was going a million miles an hour as he looked at you, shock in his eyes, and written all over his face.

He was a young man, he had his needs, but you catching him with his cock in his hands, some sort of porn - scratch that, hentai on the screen, he was EMBARRASSED.

You were just as shocked, if not, just as embarrassed as he was. You were told by Haru, to go check up on Ren, that the younger boy had been holed up in his room all day. It wasn’t healthy for a growing young adult so you didn’t question it when Haru asked you so nicely to do so. But now that you think about it more, it felt like some sort of setup.

Around a month ago you had confessed to the captain about your not so little crush on the awkward first year in his house. He had promised your secret's safety with him, but that didn't stop Haru from relentlessly teasing you. You trusted Haru never told anyone, but a week ago it had seemed like Towa had caught onto your obvious crush on the boy too, what else would explain how the vice and captain were so conveniently far far away, giving the two of you some privacy.

You definitely should have been more suspicious of the two of them, but alas, you were too trusting of the adorable duo. Your suspicions only grew as you slowly made your way to Ren’s room, your senses heightened as you spotted his door, which was usually bolted closed, cracked open.

Oh this was definitely a set up.

They had probably told him he'd be out on a mission for a few days, which was not false, the two were far far away. Your train of thought got interrupted by a groan, which immediately sent a shiver down your spine. Your mind racing with possibilities, and of course your mind went to the dirtier ones first. But what if he was hurt? There was always the possibility but when you heard a whimper that sounded strangely like your name your steps faltered. You were close enough to peak in.

Which brought you to the present, you felt so perverted for standing there in awe, watching as Ren fisted his pretty pink cock, hentai playing on his phone screen, or what you assumed was hentai due to the moans and how they sounded so fake. You couldn't see his phone screen, not that you would be paying any attention to it, not with your eyes trained on his hand, and the wet fap fap fap noises as he moans out your name and how he wishes you were here.

He'd regret that sentence not a minute later when you lean in closer by instinct, wanting to see more, only to stumble forwards, into his room. You never knew that the phrase ‘so silent you could hear a pin drop ‘ would actually happen, but that was the reality when the only noise that could be heard was Ren fumbling to turn off the porn, and his heavy breathing.

After the awkward silence he fumbled on his words, spewing out an apology after another, saying how sorry he was that you caught him like this, but also shifting the blame to you as well, asking why you were so perverted, listening to him jack off. He gets even more flustered when you don't say anything for a moment, stepping into his room.

“I heard you, say my name.” you say simply, stepping even further into the room as heat pooled into your gut. “Say you wish I was here. Well, here I am.” You watch his face flush pink with obvious inexperience. You knew he wasn't going to budge that easily, so you continued to speak, finding yourself sitting down on the edge of his bed.

“Tell me Ren, what were you thinking of doing to me?” You ask, crawling further up on the bed, watching how his cock twitches from under the thin blanket. “I-I, uhm.” He stutters out, his eyes glancing in every direction. You manage to get him to open up more, slipping down the blanket to see his pretty cock up close.

“Did you imagine this?” You ask, taking his cock into your hand, lazily jerking him off. The sweet noises of his gasps mixed in with the slick noises your hand makes around his cock sent heat straight to your cunt. “Or did you imagine your hand was my pussy? Hm? Taking your pretty cock so well.”

Your thumb swipes against the tip, and he WHINES. The sweet noise making your cunt throb. “Yes, please.” he finally stutters out, a smile gracing your lips. “need you.” he flushes pink as he watches your hand continue to painstakingly slowly stroke his cock. He gives into the pleasure a little, finally getting to feel your pretty and small hand around his cock.

And when you finally pull your panties to the side, and sink down on his waiting cock, he whimpers, Loudly. His fingers digging into the fat of your hips as you sink down on his cock, your plush walls hugging his cock so nicely that he almost cums immediately. His chest heaving as you look down at his flushed and sweaty form. It was all you've ever dreamed of, the usual abashed and stubborn boy now whimpering and flushed underneath you.

You wished you could record how pretty he looks, especially when you lift your hips slowly, watching his eyes make contact where the two of you were connected, his cock twitching at the sight of you beginning to ride his cock. He was embarrassingly close so quickly, but he couldn't help it, not when you clench around him so deliciously, his eyes rolling back as his hips thrust up to meet yours.

Sloppy thrusts meet your own sloppy bounces as the two of you near your high, his fingers sure to leave marks on your hips as they tighten around you, he was practically bouncing you in his lap, your body giving in to his strength.

He wills himself to have the strength, watching your hips slow down due to soreness, and flips the two of you over, his cock slipping out in the process. You whine at the loss, spreading your legs so nicely for him. “Come on Ren, show me what you were thinking of.” You dont have to ask him twice, lining his cock back up with your entrance. He watches as his cock disappears into your needy hole, listening to the sounds of your moans.

He couldn't help his hips immediately springing to life, thrusting deep and sloppily as he cursed under his breath. He wasn't going to last much longer, his hips pushing his cock deep into your gummy walls, hitting every part of you, just right. He watches your hand snake down, the two middle fingers rubbing at your sensitive bud, making him whine.

His hands move yours out of the way, determined to please you, his usual demeanor replaced with a more lust filled one. As his hips rock, his fingers rub at your clit, making you cry out in pleasure. His movements are not the most skilled, but you couldn't seem to care at this moment.

He could feel it, the way your pussy clenches down, and the way you cry out his name as you came, it sent him into a frenzy, his hips stuttering as he cums. “Haaaa fuck.” he moans, filling your pretty pussy with his cum.

And when he finally comes down from his high, with his face nuzzled in your neck, cock still deep inside of you, does he flush again, fumbling with his words. You shut him up with a kiss, too tired to do or say much else.

[lunaatthezoo]

News & WIP | Sin & Salvation

I feel comfortable now sharing that, besides participating in my first ever Elriel Month, job searching (still trying heh wish me luck 😭) and other major family obligations, a huge reason why I've slowed down so significantly with Sin & Salvation posting is because my husband and I are expecting a baby girl in November. It was a really rough first trimester, both physically and emotionally after experiencing loss, but I am happily now entering trimester 2 and feeling much more positive all around.

I want readers to know they I HAVE NOT and WILL NEVER forget or give up on my mafia babies!! I have another chapter and more steamy art coming soon. And I am literally always thinking of them 😭 I hope you enjoy the one-shots and other Elriel art in the meantime.

As a thank you for your patience and support here is a very long WIP 💖

Az was going to vomit. He forced himself to breathe, dropping Mor’s hands, as [redacted].

“I need to get up,” he choked out to Mor, who was blocking his way to the outer aisle.

“What are you going to do?” she hissed at him, thinking he was about to go on a suicide mission.

Az doubled over, his elbows on his knees. “Puke,” was all he said, and Mor got out of his way faster than lightning. He forced himself to straighten and slid out of the row, bile rising further in his throat. He jogged to the back of the church where he had passed restrooms on his way in, sprinting the last few steps.

He lunged into the single bathroom and fell to his knees, heaving over the toilet. Nothing came up. He had nothing to expel–no water, no food. He sat there and dry-heaved over the toilet again and again, his intestines and stomach contracting painfully, until he finally sank back on his haunches, burying his head between his knees.

A knock sounded at the door. “Az?” He had expected Mor to be there, but it was Nesta’s voice he heard instead.

“Yeah,” he called back, unable to stand.

“Are you alright?”

A dry laugh burst from him. “No,” he answered.

She tested the doorknob and felt that it was unlocked. “I’m coming in,” she called, before pushing the door open and sliding in, surveying him sitting on the floor before the toilet. She grimaced, closing the door behind her.

“You can’t hide in here,” she said simply, crossing her arms.

“Not hiding,” he answered, finally raising his head to look at her.

She raised a brow. “Then what are you doing?”

He ran a hand through his hair, then gestured towards the toilet before him. “What does it look like?”

Nesta sighed and leaned back against the closed door. And then her voice became uncharacteristically gentle. “Look, I know it must not have been easy to watch that.”

He huffed a derisive sound, which she ignored.

“I’m sorry, Az.” He met her eyes, surprised by her show of empathy. “Truly.”

He swallowed and nodded at her. “Thank you,” he answered softly. “I’m sorry, too. You and Feyre shouldn’t have been forced to watch that.”

She waved a hand in the air. “You were right about Elain. She’s stronger than we give her credit for.”

Nausea churned once more at her name and Az groaned, leaning over the toilet again and heaving up nothing. Nesta stepped towards him and awkwardly patted his back a few times until he straightened once more.

“Sorry,” he muttered, running a hand over his face.

“It's alright,” she answered quietly.

Az looked up at her from his spot on the floor. “Why did they send you in for me?” He couldn't help the question. Nesta wasn't exactly a caretaker.

She shrugged. “I volunteered. And I'll take any excuse to avoid being around those ginger pricks.”

Az grunted an agreement.

“But we do have to go out there,” she amended, her voice sharpening.

He nodded, sighing. “I know.”

Nesta looked down at her hands before looking back at him. “Listen, Azriel.” She was using his full name. He listened. “I know I'm not a perfect sister–far from it. But I love Elain. It felt like she was all I had, growing up, when Feyre was too young to talk to or understand what was happening. And I–well, I just want to say that…I'm glad she met you. I'm glad she found someone that makes her happy. And…and that I wish it was me [redacted]."

[mee30p]

(This would've been out sooner sorry work has been kicking my ass so i haven't had time to write so enjoy this short ish one, i am writing at 3:00am (˶˃⤙˂˶) )

Mother ♡︎♥︎

☽ Summary: Reader is a naturally motherly person to anything that breaths and when she meets Daryl she can't help but go into overdrive when she see's him alone in the rain.

☽ Warnings: Mother son dynamic between Daryl and Reader, Not a ship between reader and Daryl (for once), Fluff, Daryl tearing up, mentions/insinuations of abuse, reader is older early 50's?

☽ Word count: 1.3k

Daryl Dixon was never a man of words, it is simply just the way he was raised. if he spoke up about how he felt there would be a price to pay at the hands of the cruel man who was his father. So in result Daryl was always alone, he’d say he preferred it that way but deep down he didn’t he’s always yearned for a connection for someone one to care for him. But years of building up emotional calluses have their downfalls as no one ever dared to understand him, because he always violently cut people out of his life. There was the odd person who he’d let in like Rick or Carol for example but he never let them care too much. It made him tense, antsy, uncomfortable because he knew letting someone in meant he’d have to show them the bad things, his soft side and that got him hurt.

Daryl has never been nurtured, he was taught that feelings were weak and he was undeserving of love by his father. If he dared to think differently he would be beaten, burned, kicked so he became numb and disgusted by the idea of intimacy even platonic nurturing makes his skin crawl. It’s easier for him to keep thinking that. People who came near him were out to hurt him and that it was always the same.

Daryl didn't know why he did it. But it was a response that came immediately to him when someone approached him; he responded rudely, treated them poorly, and treated them in a threatening manner. At the prison, it was the same he wasn’t kind to everyone, he only let a few in but as soon as people started dying again he shut himself off and refused to accept help or new friendship. So really nothing had changed.

People stopped trying to approach him after a while, because either he intimidated them, or they figured it was useless to try anymore. That was until tonight, the rain is bucketing down as you approach him with an umbrella you managed to scavenge a few nights ago. You are a new addition to the prison but you’ve pulled more than your weight through helping cook, clean, read books to kid everyone has noticed and been a ‘victim’ to your motherly nature and your incessant use of “Darlin, baby, honey, sweetpea, sweetheart, baby boy/girl” no one is safe and tonight neither is Daryl Dixon.

“Honey, why don’t you come outta the rain, you're gonna catch a cold if you stay out here” You call out, your thick honeyed southern drawl moving through the air and catches Daryl’s attention, he’d never taken the time to get to know you, not that it was needed as you inserted yourself in his life anyway. “Naw” Is all he offers back as he moves around, pacing up and down you can tell your care and attempt at comfort is making him uneasy but you’re a stubborn woman. “Come on Darlin I'll make you a tea from my stash and we will get you all dried up” You offer but your tone is making it clear you will drag him by the hair if you need to.

“I’m fine” Daryl says his tone getting more snappy and defensive as he looks at you with a deep scowl his glare could cut steel. You won’t have any of his bullshit though, you’ve spent enough time on earth to deal with stubborn men like this hell you used to foster troubled children like this. “Don’t give me that tone, now come over here before i drag you inside by the locks of your hair” You threaten with a small motherly frown.

One thing about Daryl Dixon is that he’s a sucker for motherly attention as the lack of it when he was little has left him yearning. With a loud and rather dramatic sigh he relents quite easily. “Fine” he grumbles and you hum with a sweet smile as Daryl walks over to you and you have to pull him under the umbrella as you walk back into the Cell block. “Now tell me Darlin what are you doin’ out in the rain by yourself?” You hum your honeyed accent wrapping around Daryl like a warm blanket as you and Daryl step onto the the shelter of the prison block. You face him with a warm motherly smile that makes the smile lines from years of love and mothering disappear. It was no secret you are older than most, you are in your 50’s but full of motherly love towards anyone. “Dunno.. was just gettin air” Daryl mutters as he looks down at his boots. God you make him feel like a whiney idiot the way you mother him but he can’t help but love it. “Could’ve asked for an umbrella” You chime as you reach out pushing a few wet locks off Daryl’s face. You oughta get him a haircut. For once Daryl doesn’t pull away from your touch but he flinches at first but after a moment he almost leans his face into your hand.

“Your gonna get a cold if you don’t dry up, come on sweetie I’ll make ya up a tea with my stash” Your accent is thick as molasses and just as sweet as you grab Daryl’s arm gently guiding him to your cell where you have a camp stove and a stash of water and tea leaves because of course. “Sit down honey” You offer pointing to your bed, Daryl frowns hesitantly. “S’ gonna get wet” He mutters with a sigh but you let out a “tch” and a wave of your hand. “I ain’t worried… what I am worried about is you gettin a cold” You hand him a towel from your pile and a blanket which he takes hesitantly but it’s clear he appreciates it.

After about 5 minutes the kettle boils and you pour Daryl a cup of tea even going so far as to put some cold water to make sure he doesn’t burn himself. “Drink that up” You hum handing it to Daryl. Daryl takes a sip of the tea, heat fills his body sure the tea didn’t taste the best but hell it’s one of the nicest things anyone has done for him in a long time. He hasn’t had this kind of platonic motherly love ever. You step towards Daryl and hold up a towel to which Daryl tilts his head and frowns. You gently take the cup of tea from him and putting it to the side before you hold up the towel again and you gently start to dry Daryl’s hair and face taking time and care making sure his face is dry before moving to dry his damp locks.

Your actions made Daryl flinch and grumble at first about how he doesn’t need to be babied but you shush him making him quiet quicker than anyone has. Your gentle motherly touch is everything to Daryl he had a shit day. The supply run didn’t go well they all got ambushed by some assholes and people got hurt but your motherly love makes his worries melt away. Daryl finds himself leaning into your touch and his eyes water not from you drying his hair but because he hasn’t felt cared for in so long.

You notice and he can’t wipe his face quick enough. “You okay my love?” You hum quietly as you hold his face in your hands. “Fine” Daryl grumbles but his voice is shaky, you know exactly why he is tearing up. You rub his cheek gently with your thumb as you look into his blue eyes. God Daryl feels helpless to stop the flood of emotions appearing onto his face as you mother him and comfort him. He hates it but can’t stop himself from enjoying it. A singular tear rolls down his cheek as he looks at your kind face, he inspects every wrinkle created by sad, happy and stressful times on your aging face. 

“It’s okay baby boy, you deserve this don’t let any fucker make you think otherwise okay?” You whisper as you press a kind kiss to his forehead. 

[penguinlife]

Monday Blog (19 May 2025)

I am trying to work, but I am being distracted by a very persistent thought.

Luke is very much like Colin. Colin has a bit of self-doubt. No purpose in life. A little lost at times. Feeling he is not good enough. Trying to please everyone. He tries to fit in. Tries to be what everyone expects him to be instead of being who he is.

Now, what if Luke is struggling with the same issues. The more I think about this self-destructive behaviour. The more I see Colin in Luke.

You know how, in some people's presence, you are inspired to be the best parts of you. I think Nicola brings out that in him. When he is around her, he seems more confident. More chivalrous. More patient and more kind.

I keep thinking about the pap pics where he picked his nose and then the fan pic the following day. He looked frail, sick, and not the Luke we have come to love. It was a massive shock to the system. Instead of everyone being concerned about him, they had very harsh words for him.

He has recovered lately. Seen the inside of a gym. But it brings me to the day of the BAFTAs. It might be an unpopular opinion, but I don't like the photo shoot he did that day. He looked mad, sinister, and uncomfortable. I didn't like what he did at the British Vogue/Netflix preBAFTA party either. If it was to show an edgier Luke, I think they missed the mark. We have seen cheeky, leading man Luke before. This was not it. It reminded me so much of Colin in the beginning of S3 and the brothel scenes. In Pen's own words how Colin has lost his way.

"...I simply wanted the Colin back that I loved, not the stoic man you returned as, acting like you care for no one and need nothing. It's you: kind feeling, occasionally excitable, good-hearted man I love..."

Then we get to red carpet at the BAFTAs. He does one interview. Sprint down the carpet for one fan photo. Someone that was set up beforehand, it seems, because a few people asked him for his autograph, but he declined. It looked like he said he was in a rush. But the distance he went for that one fan photo just to rush past others seemed odd. The presence of A in that purple out of season dress was cringy. She never looks good. My biggest issue is the dumbfounded smile she has plastered on her face. Nothing grinds my gears more than when a woman presents as dumb. We have come so far that when a woman proudly embraces dumb bimbo. It's probably why she stood out like a sore thumb. She wasn't supposed to be there. No substance or talent to fall back on.

(Update) He was apparently rushing for an interview and later went back to give signatures and take photos. But it's still odd. He is walking hunched forward.

Someone mentioned that A had to wipe his face down. I looked for the clip but couldn't find anything. Please post a link to the video in the comments or DM me. I can't even spot any sweat. So I wonder what she was wiping off. Maybe just fixing his hair? More information is needed. But odd, nonetheless.

It looked like he went down to help Nic and her sister to their seats. I wouldn't expect anything less from Luke. He looked fine when they were seated. Especially during the little Lukola crumbs we got.

Sometimes, I think I see things through a wishful lens. But when I go back to give it a more objective look. I still come to the same conclusions.

Later, we get the odd parking lot kissing show post Party. This is all very odd. Even if Shondaland/Netflix is behind this PR mess. Something else is going on with Luke.

I read someone elses comment on IG that said he met an 18yo model on Raya and hooked up with her in 2023. Sure, all legal. But super sleezy. I hope this was just a rumour. Things like this come back to bite you in the ass when you least expect it.

(Update) A few people have brought up that the timeline doesn't make sense. I'm more hopeful this is just a rumour.

I feel like Luke has reached a very important crossroads in his life and career. He can continue with (whatever it is) the connection to A. Destroy, the good guy image Bridgerton/crew/costars helped develop for him. Or he can detangle from this mess. Take a public break. Get a new PR team. Work on getting some good projects/brand deals. And just be the good nice guy that we all love. The thing for me is that he needs to revamp and erase the last few months. I keep checking if he has removed that horrible open eyed cheek kiss pic from his IG grid carousel post yet. Keep hoping he has come to his senses. Decided to choose himself and his own career. But it is still there. How long is the contractual obligation to keep the pic up, I wonder?

You know how the CW used to make the same mistake with all their shows. When they did press for their 2nd season, they always described it at, edgier or darker. It never worked for them. It is never an improvement. I can't see that being seen as that would be appealing to a casting director. Having a good stable foundation of being dependable, versatile, likeable, and promotable is a better strategy.

In conclusion. I am a Luke stan. Wish the best for him. But he is making it really hard with this mess from last week. My aunt always says, "I might always love you, but I don't particularly like you at the moment. You are making it really hard."

Nicola and Jake's mess at the BAFTA party and pink carpet at Cannes was just as bad. Luckily, Jake is in Australia, and Nicola has been able to recover from the mess somewhat. Taking her sister and friends to the BAFTAs was the best decision ever. If she pops off to Australia to join Jake for her holiday, I am done.

Just a quick note on Luke not being recognised for his brilliant performance in Bridgerton. It is very rare for male actors to be recognised for playing a vulnerable, heartbroken, and yearning character. They do for being angry. Apparently that is the only emotion that counts. It is a problem in society. It has nothing to do with Nicola or that he was snubbed. I agree that we need to change that.

[yanderenightmare]

do u have advive on making ur writing flow beautifully? Or how to put the vision into worde? Whenever I read ur work I just go "wow it's so beautiful, how can i write like that?"

Also, do u plan ur work beforehand or do u just go with the flow?

On Writing Vision & Voice

Thank you! And splendid question!

♡ How I Get Started

Usually, I’ve had an idea beforehand. It doesn’t have to be anything big, just a teensy little daydream, or something I’ve seen or read that’s inspired me. 

For example, for PIECE OF CAKE, I simply had the thought of a yandere forcing the reader to eat cake. It wasn’t much on its own, but then I got started on creating a narrative around that, filling in the gaps of why he would do that and how they would come to that. And voila, I suddenly had both a fleshed-out character and a plot going on.

Other times, I suddenly get this entire dialogue sequence out of nowhere. This usually happens when I’m lying awake in bed, or sitting in my thoughts on the train for longer periods, or anywhere where the only thing I have to occupy myself is daydreaming. Here, I usually just jot down the dialogue and whatever tiny cues I picture in my head, and leave it for later. Then later,  I fill in all the actions, thought processes, and scene descriptions whenever I’m better situated to write it all out.

You can really tell when one of my works has been based on dialogue first or simply an idea, as those texts based on dialogue are very dialogue-heavy, whereas those based on lone ideas rarely have any at all. 

Take, for example, GAMER-RAGE, which was based on an idea I got from watching a YouTube streamer called Asmongold. It has little to no dialogue, even though it’s one of my longer texts. Then take this fic called Loose Screws. You’ll notice it’s almost purely dialogue from start to finish, and that’s because it essentially started off as a script.

Other times, when I’m all out of ideas or dialogue, I’ll kickstart myself with a prompt, typically just a word or concept, like VIRGIN BOY or BRUISER BOYFRIEND, where I’ll just sit and see what comes to mind. 

Here’s a General Prompt List you can check out, and here’s another NSFW-oriented one. There are dozens of others out there for you to use when you’re feeling a little sapped for inspo.

In this edition of the Helpdesk, I write a bit more on getting inspired: On Ideas & Inspo.

♡ My Writing Style

How to make things flow? 

Well, it’s a complicated question since it boils down to quite a few things. Wording is one, sentence structure is another, then there’s point of view, and my authorial choices of what to include as well as when, where, and how I include it.

I explain a bit about wording in this previous Helpdesk edition called Vocabulary Tips & Tricks. I also explain a few things about point of view and authorial choices in this edition, On Focal Points & The Power of Persuasion, and this one, On Scene Descriptions. More on point of view is also discussed in this edition, On Reader Inserts.

All these things factor into how the entire text flows. But I suppose I can give a few tips on flow overall.

The first and easiest tip is to write straightforwardly from your head—don’t get hung up on spelling or grammar in the first run, just write what you instinctively see of the scene in question. This way, you’ll only be including what stands out and is important. It’s not important that the text is understandable or even readable to others; all you have to focus on are the core elements of the scene. Not to be confused with the core plot points, core elements can be anything you want to focus on, from a certain emotion, a certain action, a certain dialogue sentence, a certain angle, or whatever the idea rests on.

In the next round, you read and implement other things you think should be included. Here, you should assume the position of an unbiased reader. So, anything anyone wouldn’t understand, you explain by including more descriptions, such as actions, thoughts, and surroundings.

In the third round, you reread and start to change things up. Here, it can be helpful to mark things in red. This would be anything you feel disrupts the flow. Is there anywhere in the text where the vibe is off, or anything that reads as boring, anything that stunts the action where it shouldn’t? Anything at all where something sticks out or does something to the reading experience that it shouldn’t, mark it as red. This also includes anything you just don’t like, obviously.

And then, in the fourth round, you work on fixing those things. See if they can be deleted, or if you can move them someplace else, phrase it differently or more concisely, leave it to be read between the lines instead. 

This can be hard. Sometimes I’ll write descriptions that I really like, but end up needing to scrap them because they don’t do anything for the text. Rather, the opposite, they disrupt the flow.

This type of self-editing was referred to by William Faulkner as Kill your darlings. And it basically means that you have to erase parts of your writing or certain ideas that stand in the way of the big picture, even though you hold love for them.

What I like to do though, to make the process easier for myself and so that I don’t feel like I’m actively throwing parts of myself into the furnace, is to save all those things I cut from the text and store them in their own document so that I might make use of them differently some other time.

But anyway, back to the process.

At this point, you should just repeat rounds three and four until you feel you’ve achieved a nice flow.

After doing things for some time, it integrates itself into your writing method, and you start doing it instinctively without thinking. As I work now, I simply write and reread a few times, making changes as I go. But if I were to break it up, then this four-step routine is essentially what I do.

Hope it helps!

♡ NIGHTMARE'S HELPDESK

[the-sinful-voice-witch]

Ok so I decided to write some... parody representation of how I felt after years of not paying attention to DC comics:

Me: Ah is so good be back into the comics after a long time! 😊 I hope you didn't make any more dumb decision like the last time I checked... 🤨

DC: yeah welcome back! I think you're going to love the things we've been doing 😇

Me: oh let's see, let's see... What? Tim and Stephanie broke up? Why?😥

DC: eeeehhh... No particular reason 🙂

Me: no reason? There was no reason? Who breaks up for no reason? It's says in a panel he doesn't even know why he did it? 🤨I'm not about to see another disgusting cheating situation like when you destroyed the beautiful Dickory romance when Dick cheated on Kory with Barbara and then gave her an invitation to their wedding that never happened right?😭😠

DC: no, nothing like that and don't judge me, we needed a way to break dickory so dickbabs could happen 🤷

Me: why did you need them to happen anyway? Babs has always been too old for Dick...😬

DC: i know but we aged her down so now is ok 👍😁😇

Me: yeah of course you did...🙄 * Quick check* Was it necessary to make Dick be with so many girls before getting back to Barbara? I'm seeing he was with Kory, then Babs, then a girl with blue hair, then... Huntress?🤦‍♀️ Then he Loses his memory and has a romance with a black girl he dumps after recovering his memories... Ok enough with this manwhore, why the other younger manwhore Broke up with Stephanie?😑

DC: aaaaah it's complicated. 🙃

Me: "complicated", sure...😑 * Keeps looking* oh! He came out as bisexual? 😲Oh I see! So you guys decided to pair him with Kon? Well is a bit sad for Steph but being Kon and the story he has with Tim I suppose is undertandabl...🥺🤔

DC: oh sorry! Is not Kon.🙂

Me: i beg you pardon? 🙃

DC: i said Is not Kon. 🙂

Me: * checks out the guy* oh is true... Kon is not blonde... A blonde dude.... 🤨🤔Oh! Is Cullen Row? Blue bird's brother... Ummmm, Ah! now I get it, yeah I remember how he stated he was gay and very into Tim in his introduction... Well is not Kon but giving the context it could make sense... 🤔 he even got along with Steph... Wait no! Cullen wasn't blonde...

DC: is not Cullen.🙂

Me: Then who is this blonde dude?!🙄😤

DC: im glad you're asking, you're going to love it he is... Bernard!😁

Me:..................???😐

DC: Bernard! 😃

Me: WHO THE FUCK IS BERNARD?🤬

DC: oh come on of course you know who he is, he was Tim's classmate 😌

Me: * Angry checking* uhu... Ummm I see.....................😠This guy is a fucking background character that appeared for the first time in 2004 a few times and then disappeared for years😑

DC: yes but he was our only option... 🙂🤷

Me: no, he wasn't.😑💢

DC: But we couldn't pair him with Superboy it was too risky and only a few people remembers Cullen.🤷

Me: even less people, close to ALMOST NOBODY remembered Bernard 😡😡😡, at least Cullen explicitly stated his gayness for Tim the moment he was introduced and also he is Bluebird's brother, Bernard was just a normal classmate.😑😤

DC: coooome on don't be like that! Just read how they got together, you'll change your mind 😇

Me: why do I doubt that so much?🫩 *checks * wait, Bernard came back after so many years and go together with Tim in ONE especial??😦

DC: not any kind of Special! A LGBTQIA+ pride especial! Ahhh see? we are so inclusive and progressive 😎😎😎 so you can't be angry...

Me: and so unbelievably TACKY and LAZY as FUCK too 🙄🤦‍♀️

DC: but they had a lot of chemistry, people wanted bi representation with a Robin so Tim and Bernard were the best option!🥺

Me: eh no, they aren't 🙎‍♀️. Good representation is always nice but people simply wanted him and Kon to be bisexuals so TimKon would be canon but you just picked up the most cardboard irrelevant background character you could 🙄 and forced them to be together in the most rushed tacky way possible!🫩 You don't just do that in one special issue! You were supposed to reintroduce Bernard in a believable way, make Tim see him again after so many years and start talking, make them have some romantic tension that makes Tim be confused and then let them have a date and you have to visually show us ALL that in more than one issue not just put a text saying: "we reconnected out of no reason and now we have a date" 🤦‍♀️and just show us that date without seeing the process before that. A pride special issue is to create special stories for already established LGBT couples that people know beforehand not to start a new one, because then it feels rushed and out of nowhere!😤😮‍💨

DC: wow how toxic and homophobic you're being...😒

Me: im not sorry to inform you 💢💢 that the "you are just something -ist or something -phobic" card is not working anymore as a shield to cover your ass🤡 from getting criticized for shitty writing bitch 😤😠. Also what the hell did you do with poor Stephanie??🤦‍♀️ What kind of person who has been dumped without a reason and then ghosted for months without explanation and then gets introduced to her new boyfriend of the ex (that dumped and ghosted her) without asking her or warning her says: "I finally meet you!this is the best day ever!"???? 🫠🫠🫠 Check this shit twice before saying something so cringe and degrading is cute and wholesome 🤮🤮🤮. Who wrote that? A 13 years old Wattpad writter fujoshi? 🤡🤡🤡

DC: in my defense we couldn't risk making Stephanie look homophobic 🙂🤷

Me: being angry or sad that your ex boyfriend that dumped you and ghosted you has a new boyfriend that he introduces you without warning is not homophobic🤡, is a basic normal human reaction after been treated like shit, damnit!🙄😤

DC: yeaaaah but it was a pride issue so it had to have a happy ending, we couldn't have a heartbroken Stephanie...😇😇😇

Me: so you just gaslight readers trying to convince us that cringe "happy" reaction is normal and totally on character.💢🤨

DC: come on, don't be mad we still have a bisexual superboy too!😅😀

Me: i don't see what's the point of confirming Kon's bisexuality if you weren't going to pair him with Tim...🫩

DC: oh no no we don't mean THAT Superboy😬

Me: what do you mean not THAT 🤨 Superboy the only other superboy is a just little kid...

DC: ehhh about that...🙂

Me: no... No you didn't... * Checks * oh you fucking did it YOU BASTARDS!🤬🤬🤬

DC: why are you angry? we gave the fans a half gay superboy like they wanted!🤗

Me: YOU GOT THE WRONG SUPERBOY ASSHOLES!🤬🤬🤬 JON WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE CUTE BABY SUPERBOY AND YOU FORCED HIM TO GROW UP UNNATURALLY AND ROBBED HIS CHILDHOOD! No to mention that it looks like you basically casted Kon aside to favor one superboy over other 🙎‍♀️💢

DC: calm down calm down!!! Look! Is not that bad... He even has his own boyfriend and this one has superpowers!😃😃

Me: * furiously checks* .....I see, a half Asian guy with a hell ugly pink haircut and very unflattering glasses that casually wants to be a journalist and is "superfan" of Lois lane... So superboy is with a journalist like his dad, so he is just a copy-paste of his dad... 🫩🫩🫩

DC: yeah but more progressive!😃

Me: and he never has to worry that much about his love because this ugly hair dude Jay has the power of intangibility so nothing can touch him.🫩🫩🫩

DC: isn't he super great??😃😃

Me: you know? Bisexual representation isn't that hard to make, you just need to take the character and make it blush or flirt with women and men. You don't need to break up his current relationship with a girl and made writing gymnastics 🤡🤡🤡 to put him with a random boy to prove his bisexuality (unless you pair him with the actual boy people wanted).Seriously, blush around both sexes! People get it! People isn't dumb! 🙄🙄🙄

DC: well what's donde is done 🤷

Me: Ok,this is giving me a headache... Let's see what else you screwed...

DC: you're are being dramatic we are not that bad 😒😒

Me: we'll see about that... Oh Helena?? Helena Wayne??😍 In the main canon?? But not from other universe but from the main universe future????? She is main canon now?? Omg omg omg!! 🤩🤩🤩🥳🥳

DC: see? I'm glad you're happy😁

Me: yaaaiiiii...😆 * Keeps reading*😶😐 eh... That's not the reunion with Batman I expected...☹️ I mean he has been cold before but that was with a Helena from another universe, this one is actually her daughter... He casted her away???😠😠😠😠

DC: yeah you know Batman, he is complicated and her existence could mess with the future 🙂

Me: but her future has been erased,😠 she erased her future and became a living paradox to save Batman's, her FATHER'S life!!😫 Why is he such a jerk??😤 This is his biological daughter with the love of his life!! Grumpy as he is this is too much!😤😤

DC: nah still in character 🙂

Me: aaaaaaaarrrrjjjjj well I'll just wait to see how is her reunion with her mom and her siblings...😑

DC: oh yeah about that... 🙃

Me: what now?🫩

DC: sorry that's not going to happen😅🤷

Me:....Why exactly is not going to happen?💢💢😬

DC: well, bringing her to the main canon was more of a mess than we thought so... We send her to a more advanced future... Yeah now she can't actually meet the whole bat family, that would be too messy... Sawwwrry 😘😘

Me: you are so the fucking worst! So you made her exist in the main canon but she can't stay with her family???🤯 You made her exist just to make Batman be a fucking cold asshole with her after she saved his life and showed him how much she loves him and then throw her away in another future so Batman can pretend she never happened???🤬🤬🤬 Do you understand Helena Wayne was created before Damian Wayne right?😤😤 I don't care if in the main canon she would actually be a little sister but this disrespect to the first remarkable biological child Batman had is outrageous! How did Alfred allowed this!?😠😠

DC: oh uhhh well...😬😅

Me: wait, now that I mentioned him, where is Alfred? I didn't see him in the recent comics...🤨

DC: je je well, you see... It looks like you skipped an important arc to understand what's happening...🙂 You would have noticed if you didn't stop looking at Dicks story...

Me: hey, you are scaring me... Why is not Alfred on the recent comics... What happened in that arc?😰😰

DC:........😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️

Me: * checks very afraid* eh? Oh, no... Nononono NO wait... This isn't happening...🥲🥲🥲 You didn't right? This is a joke...🫠🫠🫠

DC: yeah well, no it isn't sawwrry 🥺🤷

Me: you just didn't fucking killed Alfred, he is coming back right? HE IS COMING BACK! Omg... Dick didn't have his memories back when he died...😰 Bane snapped his neck in front of Damian...😨 This is beyond cruel😭😭, you have to resuscitate him! YOU HAVE TO!😭🤬🤬

DC:.....🙃

Me: you listen to me I don't care if you use a magic wishing lamp or if Deadpool himself walks backwards on the comic pages and cuts Bane's head snd hands to save Alfred but you're going to REVIVE ALFRED!👹👹👹🔥🔥🔥

DC:ummmm......NOPE 🙂‍↔️🤪 * smoke bomb*

Me: YOU FUCKING BASTARDS!🤬🤬🤬 THAT'S IT, MAIN CANON HAS OFFICIALLY BECAME IRRELEVANT, YOU HEAR ME?💢💢💢ALFRED WAS UNTOUCHABLE AND YOU CROSSED THE LINE! MAIN CANON IS OFFICIALLY BULLSHIT,🔥🔥 NOTHING HAPPENING AFTER HIS DEATH COUNTS FOR ANYTHING... YOU SON OF A BITCH GET BACK HERE AND FIX THIS DISASTER!👹👹👹🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪

YOU RUINED THE COMICS!!

[scoobydoodean]

Apologies if you’ve talked about this already but what do you think of the Sam being a Christlike figure analysis? I’ve never understood it

It's not something I take seriously, but I can see why some people with certain aesthetic interests choose to play in the sandbox with it.

The relatable characteristics:

Long hair in keeping with DaVinci's depiction. (Except Sam's hair is actually too short.)

Mom's name was Mary (but then that also means Dean's mom was Mary)

Sam sacrificed himself in Swan Song to save the world from the devil. (Everybody else fought the devil and sacrificed themselves in various capacities fighting him and others so meh)

Sam came back to life (Soulless, which definitely didn't happen to Jesus after an angel yeeted him out of the cage. Also Dean and Cas also came back to life after dying. Cas like a billion times. I suppose we can claim Dean is Lazarus tho bc of the title of 4.01 and his resurrection proceeding Jesus!Sam's)

Sam cast demons out of people which Jesus did a few times (though Jesus just did it with words, which anyone in SPN can do by saying an exorcism, while Sam exorcised demons with powers he got from drinking blood from demons, which isn't christlike at all)

One time Sam imagined himself being tortured by Alastair on the rack and his arms were in a t-pose and some people think this is very important for some reason (Many other characters were tortured at various points, including ones who actually got tortured by Alastair, not just imagining it bc they were hallucinating).

Then there's characteristics Sam clearly does not share with Jesus.

Sam is literally Satan's vessel.

Sam is clearly not god or the son of god

Jesus healed the sick all of the time and Sam does not do that (sounds more like Cas)

Jesus had a mountain of friends who followed him around and would do anything for him. (Sam simply does not have the rizz.)

Jesus's whole virgin birth thing.

Jesus raised his bestie Lazarus from the dead just by crying and telling him to come out of a tomb. (Sam could not bring Dean back no matter how hard he tried.)

Jesus was tempted by the devil while fasting in the wilderness but never gave in. Satan specifically tempted Jesus to demonstrate his power and divinity from a place of pride and boastfulness and Jesus would not do it. On the other hand, Sam was tempted by demons and gave into temptation, and one of the reasons Sam drank demon blood was specifically so he could feel more powerful and better than everyone else. Jesus's refusal to give into temptation and his sinlessness when he died on the cross is absolutely essential to traditional Christian canon, the Christian depiction of Christ, and the Christian view of salvation.

Note: Jesus is embraced in some other religious traditions and among some liminal Christian groups as only a prophet or an angel, but I think it's clear that the "Sam as a Christlike figure" take examines Jesus through the lens of traditional Christian canon shared among the major Christian sects where Jesus is God, is crucified for the sins of mankind, etc.

I think in particular, Sam being the vessel of Satan and Sam very specifically giving into the temptation of demons make the idea of him as a christ figure feel too clunky (and to many devout Christians, would make the idea outright offensive). It's more like Sam is "supposed" to be the anti-christ, but subverts the story despite all his issues to save everyone, which I actually think is way more fun. He isn't a christ figure and he doesn't need to be to save the day. That's way more empowering and meaningful for everyday people.

I think if people want to play in the sandbox with christ figure Sam because they're just really into that whole religious aesthetic, that's totally fine, but I also think it isn't hard to build similar analyses about Cas and Dean mirroring Jesus in equally compelling and clunky ways, so I find it funny how seriously some people take Jesus!Sam to the point that when one of my mutuals joked about christ figure Sam very subtly, they got this hilarious message.

Also see: The infamous Christ figure bracket... which—at the time—I voted against Sam in because I knew samgirls would get big heads about it and act like they were being persecuted for their beliefs. And then they proved me right. And I got a long rambling hate mail message about what a horrible mean bully I am for laughing at the insanity.