#I think the fact that starbucks

[shorelinnes]

I really don't want to make another political post because a few of the other ones blew up and I felt like I was getting an ulcer, but I just want to say please please please don't idolize people on here or on twitter. no matter how many social justice buzz words they throw at you please remember they could be absolutely anyone. just because someone acts confident does not mean they have ANY idea what they're doing.

[seriousbrat]

have you got any prongsfoot fics

I'm not sure if you're asking for recs or something I've written, but the answer to both is: yes, but only one, and it's lesbian prongsfoot. lol. I don't read a lot of prongsfoot honestly but I'm obsessed with the concept of lesbian prongsfoot its everythign 2 me

I have recced this before but @plecotusauritus's excellent murder lesbians fic a bright future ahead !!! such a concept

And then my own is Lippy Kids which is muggle au in the 70s, set in a reform school for girls. I am very fond of it tbh and someday.... someday it will be finished 🥲

I'm historically terrible at recommending fic so as always, if anyone has any favourites please share them!

[givingblood]

God I can't tell you how little I give a fuck about that ceo assasination thing, everyone rushing to throw a take out there to get a pat on the back.

You all look unhinged and terminally online.

[panicbones]

i know ppl got social anxiety and i get it but also i have very very bad hearing + audio processing disorders and you need to speak up or im going to ask you what huh about 4 times in a row

[psycherprince]

third hot take of the day is that yes "boycott fatigue" is. yikes. but we're not doing anyone any favors by pretending large boycotts don't take any effort whatsoever. like we talk abt "invisible labor" in the household when talking abt feminism, which is the cognitive load of knowing what has to get done even if the tasks are divided, and having to keep track of who is doing what (wrt childcare) and the preferences of your family when cooking/grocery shopping/etc. Other ppl have explained this better than me but the point is. It does take cognitive effort to keep track of what you can and can't buy, and which companies own what, etc etc.

We can acknowledge that yeah it does take effort and yeah it can be annoying that you have to make some kind of change, but also still maintain that complaining abt that right now is insanely tactless and irrelevant. Like yeah you DO have to remind yourself not to buy sabra hummus or the starbucks brand creamer or whatever but like there's a genocide yknow get some perspective

[dykeomania]

i’m also really sorry but continuing to actively promote a brand or a franchise that is notably guilty and complicit and even exploitative of what’s happening in palestine not even just financially but promotionally (continuing to write for said franchise, continuing to repost things relating to said franchise, at all) is morally counterproductive and contradictory and i just have to say that because i feel like no one else is going to

[marvelsmostwanted]

There are people – some in my own Party – who think that if you just give Donald Trump everything he wants, he’ll make an exception and spare you some of the harm. I’ll ignore the moral abdication of that position for just a second to say — almost none of those people have the experience with this President that I do. I once swallowed my pride to offer him what he values most — public praise on the Sunday news shows — in return for ventilators and N95 masks during the worst of the pandemic. We made a deal. And it turns out his promises were as broken as the BIPAP machines he sent us instead of ventilators. Going along to get along does not work – just ask the Trump-fearing red state Governors who are dealing with the same cuts that we are. I won’t be fooled twice.

I’ve been reflecting, these past four weeks, on two important parts of my life: my work helping to build the Illinois Holocaust Museum and the two times I’ve had the privilege of reciting the oath of office for Illinois Governor.

As some of you know, Skokie, Illinois once had one of the largest populations of Holocaust survivors anywhere in the world. In 1978, Nazis decided they wanted to march there.

The leaders of that march knew that the images of Swastika clad young men goose stepping down a peaceful suburban street would terrorize the local Jewish population – so many of whom had never recovered from their time in German concentration camps.

The prospect of that march sparked a legal fight that went all the way to the Supreme Court. It was a Jewish lawyer from the ACLU who argued the case for the Nazis – contending that even the most hateful of speech was protected under the first amendment.

As an American and a Jew, I find it difficult to resolve my feelings around that Supreme Court case – but I am grateful that the prospect of Nazis marching in their streets spurred the survivors and other Skokie residents to act. They joined together to form the Holocaust Memorial Foundation and built the first Illinois Holocaust Museum in a storefront in 1981 – a small but important forerunner to the one I helped build thirty years later.

I do not invoke the specter of Nazis lightly. But I know the history intimately — and have spent more time than probably anyone in this room with people who survived the Holocaust. Here’s what I’ve learned – the root that tears apart your house’s foundation begins as a seed – a seed of distrust and hate and blame.

The seed that grew into a dictatorship in Europe a lifetime ago didn’t arrive overnight. It started with everyday Germans mad about inflation and looking for someone to blame.

I’m watching with a foreboding dread what is happening in our country right now. A president who watches a plane go down in the Potomac – and suggests — without facts or findings — that a diversity hire is responsible for the crash. Or the Missouri Attorney General who just sued Starbucks – arguing that consumers pay higher prices for their coffee because the baristas are too “female” and “nonwhite.” The authoritarian playbook is laid bare here: They point to a group of people who don’t look like you and tell you to blame them for your problems.

I just have one question: What comes next? After we’ve discriminated against, deported or disparaged all the immigrants and the gay and lesbian and transgender people, the developmentally disabled, the women and the minorities – once we’ve ostracized our neighbors and betrayed our friends – After that, when the problems we started with are still there staring us in the face – what comes next.

All the atrocities of human history lurk in the answer to that question. And if we don’t want to repeat history – then for God’s sake in this moment we better be strong enough to learn from it.

I swore the following oath on Abraham Lincoln’s Bible: “I do solemnly swear that I will support the constitution of the United States, and the constitution of the state of Illinois, and that I will faithfully discharge the duties of the office of Governor .... according to the best of my ability.

My oath is to the Constitution of our state and of our country. We don’t have kings in America – and I don’t intend to bend the knee to one. I am not speaking up in service to my ambitions — but in deference to my obligations.

If you think I’m overreacting and sounding the alarm too soon, consider this:

It took the Nazis one month, three weeks, two days, eight hours and 40 minutes to dismantle a constitutional republic. All I’m saying is when the five-alarm fire starts to burn, every good person better be ready to man a post with a bucket of water if you want to stop it from raging out of control.

Those Illinois Nazis did end up holding their march in 1978 – just not in Skokie. After all the blowback from the case, they decided to march in Chicago instead. Only twenty of them showed up. But 2000 people came to counter protest. The Chicago Tribune reported that day that the “rally sputtered to an unspectacular end after ten minutes.” It was Illinoisans who smothered those embers before they could burn into a flame.

Tyranny requires your fear and your silence and your compliance. Democracy requires your courage. So gather your justice and humanity, Illinois, and do not let the “tragic spirit of despair” overcome us when our country needs us the most.

Sources:

• NBC Chicago & J.B. Pritzker, Democratic governor of Illinois, State of the State address 2025: Watch speech here | Full text

• Betches News on Instagram (screencaps)

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

My brother started asking me about about the research I did in high school and now I’m reminiscing about the good old days

[czajnik]

Relistened to the two (2) songs from the winter soldier soundtrack that I bought on itunes back when the movie first came out and MAN

[hoshigray]

sorry for the holdup on this fic, y'all!! this week was NOT it with these assignments and stuff + didn't like how the first draft went, so we're redoing this!! but I don't have classes tmrw, so hopefully, I can finish this all for Sat (rlly crossing fingers). I'm already climbing to 2k and I'm still not even halfway done 😅 really trying to shorten this out and not make another 6k tale (plz if I do 6k for the third time in a row, I'll just collapse) and then I gotta start OTST at the same time....sigh, I'll just go sleep now, lol.

⋆♱ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 ✮ 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢-𝐓𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 ♱⋆ | a JJK series

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: hi hello!! so like, yeah, this is late bc I didn't plan on doing any kinktober stuff since i got shit irl to do. BUT, after some thought and some creative bursts of energy, I figured "ehh why not." So, I'm not setting the dates as life can be unpredictable, but here are the things I'm doing/have done for the month!! Think of this more like a book list than a prompt list tbh

reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ⋆♱✮♱⋆ transparent edit made by me + header art by yuto sano + fic dividers by the amazing @cafekitsune!!

𝑺𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑻𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒌, 𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑹𝒐𝒐𝒎...

All the material below contains 18+ content, so minors do not interact.

☠︎ = ficlet/scenario | ♱ = fics

☠︎ 𝐁𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 (true form! Sukuna x fem/afab! reader)

☠︎ 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 (dom! Nanami x fem/afab! reader)

♱ 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇[𝐞𝐫]!! (serial killers! Toji + Sukuna x fem! reader)

Next time, look around the area before you say you find a serial killer attractive. Because you’re about to see what mess your words will have you end up in — and your clothes all torn up.

☠︎ 𝐓𝐢𝐞 𝐌𝐞, 𝐔𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐞, 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞 (rigger! geto x fem! reader!)

♱ 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐓𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤 (vampire bf! Choso x fem! reader)

Finding out your boyfriend's a vampire was far from the chill evening you planned with him. But you can't lie, imagining those fangs sinking down on and sucking on your skin....it's kinda hot.

♱ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 (Carrie au! Gojo x fem/afab! reader)

Taking a loner like you to the prom was, at first, an easy bet for the most popular kid in school. What he didn't expect, however, is to fall madly in love with you — and how that love brings hell on supposedly the best night of senior year...

♱ 𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬, 𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬 (ex-husband! Toji x fem! reader)

Your ex-husband bringing the kids over for trick-or-treating is one thing; him wanting to spend the night at your place is another. But it's just for the night. There's no way one night can rekindle some old feelings...right?

Upcoming stuff will be updated, so be sure to check!

𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝑱𝒐𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒄𝒉'𝒔 𝑳𝒂𝒊𝒓?

Would you wish to be tagged? Please lmk in the replies or in my inbox!

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2023 ⋆♱✮♱⋆ These tales have been transcribed and written by the original poster (me). Do not steal, edit, copy/plagiarize, or post any of my works on your own accounts, in or out of this app. Please and thank you.

[palestinegenocide]

How you can help Palestine while being a minor/child

If you're someone who does not earn money or cannot donate because you're a child and you're under the care of a guardian but still want to help the suffering Palestinians this is a list that can help you

Educate yourself! I cannot stress how important this is. Stay up to date with the latest news and learn about the history of Palestine so you do not get confused by propaganda.

Boost posts about Palestine and spread awareness! Share posts about Palestine [make sure to fact check] and talk to your families and friends to do the same (it's understandable if you cannot talk about these things with your family and friends though). Follow Palestinian journalists and other people who are stuck in gaza. Boost their posts.

Do not engage with zionists! Troll bots are becoming more and more common and engaging with them will only benefit them. Ignore and move on. The world stands with Palestine and we do not need to prove that.

Save evidence! The governments WILL DENY the genocide they are committing and will try their best to remove evidence from all social media platforms. Save videos, articles, and pictures so that you have a strong evidence base to present when the time comes.

Show your solidarity! Put a watermelon in your bio, wear red green black and white colours, put a Palestinian flag on your schoolbag. Every little thing counts.

Boycott! Avoid McDonald's, Starbucks and other companies that support israel. Ask your parents to eat somewhere else if they suggest McDonald's, and ask your friends to choose a different cafe if they go to starbucks.

Email your representatives! Make some noise, demand a ceasefire

Do daily clicks! Any myth of this NOT going to Palestine has been debunked, and it doesn't take any time to simply click one button. It makes money through ad revenues

I will add links and update this list when I think of more. Add anything else you think should be included in the reblogs

[rise-my-angel]

I got such a nice and mega long comment on my latest chapter and I love having anxiety because everytime someone gives my writing high praise I'm terrified later chapters will utterly disappoint.

Rant under read more that you can feel free to skip, I'm just having an anxiety/pathetic insecurity ramble.

Like chapters 28 and 29 are so fucking good in my opinion like I really nailed exactly how I was envisioning it as if it was playing out on a TV screen but I'm now also terrified no one else will think so. Like sometimes I worry yall will think I'm just putting filler chapters to extend the length but I carefully outline everything in extensive detail because I want to create an immersive and full story that you can see in your head as I do.

I write essentially, in a way that I hope captures the same experience as watching the show feels. Like I'm on season 2 again and I am trying so hard to capture that feeling of every detail adds to something more then just plain text. And I want to properly capture the scenery and internal dialogue so the world feels as full as the early show/books feel without sacrificing your attention or my vision. Like I'm so far in advance I am now on entierly orignal plot and am not relying on the show or books to guide and that's so scary that you will think it pales in comparison. I know this series is WAY longer then it has any right being, and that most series with this many chapters are nowhere near as long but I'm just so passionate about such a clear vision for this story and I hate the idea that I had you in the first half and now I'm about to lose all that in your interest. Being a small unknown loser fanfic author who writes as much as fucking Isaac Asimov is ridiculous. No ones reading or cares about my War and Peace length game of thrones reader insert fanfic what am I even doing with my life.

Anyways I have no satisfying way to end this rant so heres actual footage of me trying to edit my comedic amount of spelling errors in this dumbass goliath size of a fic at like 2am off my meds every night:

[ailithnight]

Danny works as a barista at Tim's favorite coffee shop.

And Danny absolutely hates Tim motherfuckin Drake-Wayne.

He comes in every morning with the hell rush of stuffy, self important business men who will scream at teenagers for any minor inconvenience. And every morning, without fail, Mr. Drake Wayne is in the dead center of that line; and orders the biggest, most irritating, most pain in the ass to make monstrosity that Danny always ends up being the one to spend several minutes making.

If Danny has to listen to one more egotistical asshole scream at him that he's taking to long because of Tim's ridiculous fucking Demon Concoction, Danny is going to throw the espresso machine at Tim's head and then make him pay for the inevitable stay in Arkahm when he does.

.

Tim's favorite coffee shop got a new barista. Danny is a pretty cool dude. He's mostly chill, but fully capable of sassing asses off; is unafraid to tell off and cuss out the snobby "big wigs" when they start screaming at the other baristas; he always makes Tim's order perfectly and faster than anyone else ever can; and also he's just really really pretty. Maybe Tim should ask for his number...

Write below a Batfamily meets Danny Fenton story but choose the wildest relationship that you can think of that isn’t adoption or a romantic relationship

For instance:

- breaking into a building for a drug bust but they got the wrong building number and broke into Danny’s apartment.

- gets met over and over because Condiment King of all people continuously kidnaps him for plots

- was brought to the GCPD for wrestling Killer Croc at 3am high as a kite over a new fear gas drug that’s been making its rounds through Gotham.

- accidentally smacked the coffee out of Danny’s hands while catching a perp.

[angrythingstarlight]

Prompt: I saw on the news that an 8 year old decided not to go to school but stole her parents keys and drove herself to target for a day of Starbucks and shopping. I am laughing but kinda horrified but my first thought was Bumblebee sneaking away from her bodyguards and going out for a day of shenanigans.

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader, daughter nicknamed Bumblebee

CW: Fluff

WC: Drabble

AN: Part of the Bumblebee series.

While you're running around, finishing some last-minute things, Bee manages to get her little hands on the keys to her personalized Barbie Lamborghini.

Her bodyguards catch her making a break for the garage when you go upstairs to grab your purse. She's in her tiny car and backing down the driveway by the time Nino and Ronan reach the stairs.

She has everything she needs for her impromptu getaway. Mr. Tato strapped in the passenger seat. Her partially unzipped purse full of monies and snacks is bouncing in the back. A rolled up coloring book and a handful of crayons in the cup holders. Your sunglasses sitting crooked on her face, the frames slipping down her nose.

Bee tips her head back in time to see her bodyguards casually strolling after her. Nino holds up his phone, her eyes widen at the sound of your voice crackling through the speaker—Bumblebee get your butt back in here—and she hits the gas with a wild giggle.

She flies down the driveway at an impressive 5 miles an hour. This girl has places to be and no one is going to stop her.

Bee knows her Papa is somewhere past the towering iron wrought gates leading to the road.

She'll find him before you catch her.

Or so she thinks anyway.

"Bumblebee," you call out, hand on your hip. "You are in so much trouble. Are those my glasses?"

A quick glance over her shoulder and she lets out a yelp. When did you get here and why are you so close? Why is her car slowing down?

Her ballet flat taps the gas pedal with short frustrated jabs but her tires roll to a slow, defeating stop. She turns the steering wheel but goes nowhere. "Dab it."

Shaking your head, you suppress your laugh. "Sorry Bee."

"Mommy." Bee slumps in her seat as defeat sinks in, pushing the sunglasses back to reveal her cinched brows and adorable pout. "My car broked."

You slide the remote control in your back pocket and feign sympathy while hiding your amusement at the fact that she didn't get far. "Aw it is? Your papa will fix it when he gets home. Where were you going?"

'Papa's office." She states with a shrug. It should be obvious. Where else would she be going on a Wednesday morning? Letting you unbuckle her and Mr. Tato, she explains. "Papa needs my help with business. I knows it, Mommy."

Her earnest explanation brings a smile to your face. She's so cute.

You can't even be mad at her toddler version of prison break. He left the house in a hurry this morning, Bee overheard him arguing on the phone with someone on his way out. That must be why she felt the need to help him. You pluck the glasses off her face and put them on yours before collecting her and all her things in your arms.

"Why didn't you wait for me?" You head to the garage, the warm sun on your back. Kissing the top of her hair, you inhale the soft scents of her lavender lotion mixed with your perfume, she had asked you to spray a little on her wrists this morning.

"I got inpants and has to go fast." She shrugs, plopping her chin on your shoulder. "No times to waits," she sings out, waving at Nino who's carrying her car back inside.

"Impatient?" You clarify, stopping in front of your car.

"Yeah my inpants gots bad. I sorry."

She had time to snag some art supplies, a cupcake and a bunch of veggie straws though. You'd be miffed at her priorities but you're used to her toddler logic by now and it makes sense. Kinda.

You get the wiggling toddler in her car seat along with her dino and purse. Rummaging through it, you find a few veggie straws which she takes with a happy tank you.

"Next time you wait for me okay? It's not nice to leave without me." Your soft smile gentles the reprimand and she mirrors your expression. "No matter how impatient you get, don't leave me behind. I'll get real sad if you do."

Bee nods, grabbing your hand with crumb-coated fingers. "Okays. I pwomise to waits for mommy. I don't want you to be sads."

She'll probably forget this whole thing in a few weeks and you'll end up having this conversation again. Yet looking down at her, seeing the perfect combination of you and Bucky in her sweet face, you honestly don't mind.

You kiss her chubby cheeks and buckle her in. "How about we go to the bookstore?"

She loves the one downtown, it's an independent place run by a librarian. Bee perks up, it's almost as fun at the toy store next door.

"Mr. Tato wants a dino book." She beams, squeezing him in her hands. "And I needs a Bluey book for my office."

"He said we should get coffee while we're out," You reply, starting the engine. There's a place nearby that makes the perfect latte for you and a not to sweet chocolate milk for her. "When we're done, we'll take Papa out for lunch and then we'll see if he wants any help with work."

"He does mommy. He needs us."

Bucky will agree with that.

You take off, looking in your rear view mirror to find Bee still hugging Mr. Tato as she talks about dino books, ballerinas and Bluey.

You never would have imagined that this imaginative, rambunctious, sweet girl would be the best part of your day. And you're on way to meet the second best part.

At the office.

"Mr. Barnes, your one o'clock is here. I told him he's early but he's—," Kate hesitates, eyes lifting to the ceiling with a slight cant of her head.

She doesn't want to offend in case this man is important to her boss, but she doesnt want to lie to the pakhan either.

She finally settles on "—insistent that you meet with him now. Do you want me to let him up?"

Bucky picks up on the frazzled edge to her voice despite her best attempts to hide it.

Insistent.

Bucky's knows all about the heir and his insistent nature.

Bucky sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Put him in the conference room on the fifth floor. Tell Adrian and Victor to wait in the hallway and to inform me if he does anything."

"Yes sir."

Bucky leans back in his chair and goes back to the hotel blueprints he was reviewing. After this, he's going to select your anniversary gift.

The heir can wait until his scheduled appointment or he can leave. Bucky doesn't give a fuck, he's not the one drowning in debt.

There's only a handful of people on this earth that can demand his time and attention.

And Ransom Drysdale is not one of them.

[hoshifighting]

rival fashion designer!minghao

— synopsis: where minghao flexes his fashion awards whenever your brand competes against him during fashion week. — WC: 3k — WARNINGS: explicit language, smut, reader uses a transparent clothing (just like rihanna in oscar x swarovski), oral (f. receiving) ENORMOUS DICK!MINGHAO, slight face slap, mentions of choking on a cock, penetrative sex—or trying to.

look, you weren’t trying to start beef with minghao. you don’t even know why the dude hates you so much. okay, maybe you said one thing about his fall line looking like it got snatched off the clearance rack at an IKEA. but that was a year ago. and also? you were drunk and kinda bitter ‘cause your show got bumped for his stupid avant-garde puff-sleeve renaissance clowncore shit.

but now, every fashion week is like a personal vendetta for him to humble you. you’ll be vibin’, sipping your overpriced latte in the designer lounge, and this man will just stroll in, decked out in some vintage runway piece that costs more than your annual budget, flashing that “i won best emerging designer again” smirk like it’s a fucking weapon. and then he’ll throw some casual shit like:

“oh, y/n, is that your collection over there? i thought they were setting up for the kid’s line showcase.”

[...]

so this year, you swore you wouldn’t let him get in your head. you’d play it cool, professional, unbothered. except you walk into your studio late one night, the day before your big runway debut, and this man is just there. sitting on your worktable. wearing a pearl-studded harness and leather pants so tight it should be a crime.

you freeze, halfway through the door, holding the iced coffee you begged your intern to grab five minutes before starbucks closed. “what the fuck are you doing here?”

minghao barely glances up from his phone. “your assistant let me in.”

traitor.

“why?” you slam the coffee on the counter, praying your voice doesn’t shake. the audacity of him just existing in your space is enough to make your blood boil.

he stands, slow as hell, like he’s got all the time in the world. he’s tall—annoyingly tall—so when he steps close, you’re immediately at a disadvantage. but you refuse to back down.

“just wanted to check out the competition,” he says, eyes flicking lazily over the chaos of fabric swatches and half-finished sketches strewn across the room. “cute line. very... simple.”

“fuck you, hao,” you snap, crossing your arms. “it’s called ‘minimalism.’ not that you’d know anything about taste.”

he laughs, soft and low, the kind of sound that creeps under your skin and lingers there. “oh, i have plenty of taste. i just don’t need to keep it basic to get attention.”

and here’s the thing: you hate how much he gets to you. he’s a smug asshole with an overinflated ego, but he’s also stupidly talented, and you can’t ignore the fact that his lines always sell out in under a day. or how his press coverage makes yours look like a local craft fair feature.

but what really gets you is how hot he looks right now, with his ridiculous cheekbones and the glint of that tiny silver chain peeking out from under his collar. it’s disgusting. you hate it.

you’re about to throw a cutting remark his way, something about how he’s overcompensating with all that jewelry, but he beats you to it.

“you know,” he murmurs, stepping even closer, “you’d look good in my designs.”

your brain short-circuits. “excuse me?”

“if you ever want to elevate your style...” he trails off, dragging his gaze down the length of your body like it’s a runway.

“you are so full of shit,” you hiss, but there’s no heat behind it, because your stupid traitorous brain is suddenly imagining what it’d feel like to have his hands on you.

he smirks, all teeth and danger, leaning in so close you can smell his expensive cologne. “maybe. but you’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?”

you don’t answer.

[...]

the next morning, you’re running on zero sleep, fueled by pure spite and caffeine, but your runway show? flawless. models everywhere, hair spray choking the air, seamstresses practically sewing on skin ‘cause the deadlines were that tight. and you were doing a thousand fucking things at once.

fixing a hemline here, shouting at a makeup artist there—“no, not clean girl aesthetic, we’re going full grunge today, wake up!”—all while struggling to get yourself into the swarovskied transparent gown you planned to wear for the night.

no bra, because tits were the least controversial thing in fashion. and the way the crystals draped over your skin looking likew pure art. nipples out and proud, paired with modern curls swirled to perfection and makeup that screamed chaos-but-make-it-glam.

by the time your collection hit the runway, your nerves were shredded. but watching the models strut, each piece shining under the lights... fucking worth it.

and then, the finale: your dress sweeping dramatically across the stage as you closed the parade. you bowed to the crowd, letting the cameras and whispers soak in every inch of you, and as you turned to leave, you felt it.

minghao’s sharp eyes.

you caught his eyes just as they traveled the length of you—from the swirl of your hair, to the unapologetic sharpness of your nipples under the crystals, to the shimmer of your dress, down to the towering heels on your feet.

you just smirked to yourself as you headed backstage, knowing full well your collection didn’t just crawl under his skin this time. it slithered under his flesh, wrapped tight around his ribs, and squeezed.

[...]

minghao’s models stormed the runway like it was their goddamn birthright. and of course, you watched. no designer worth their silk ignored the competition, and minghao wasn’t just competition, he was a walking masterclass in making everyone feel like second place.

he closed his show with his usual flare, stepping out like he already knew the applause was his. fast-forward two designers later, and the nominations for the fashion academy awards started rolling in. you didn’t have to look to know minghao had already claimed half the early awards.

you watched him backstage through narrowed eyes as he balanced four trophies—two tucked in his arms, two in his hands—posing for a picture with that smug-ass smile. you knew that pic was already blowing up on his Instagram. your jaw clenched, nails digging into your palm as the last nominations were announced.

and then, plot twist of the year:

your name came up five times.

designer of the year: you.

new vision in fashion: you.

collection of the year: your brand.

runway innovation: your brand.

showstopper of the year: your brand.

walking out with those five heavy-ass awards in your arms? victory tasted better than champagne. your models and team practically swarmed you, hyping you up ‘cause they knew how much blood, sweat, and tears went into this collection.

but what you really wanted... minghao. definitely minghao. minghao, in your line of sight. because after all the times he flaunted his wins like a smug bastard, you wanted him to feel this.

and lucky for you, fate delivered.

you spotted him in the back hallway, leaning against the wall, scrolling through his phone. clearly, he hadn’t heard the last nominees. his head snapped up when your heels echoed through the space.

“oh, hey, hao,” you called out, voice sweet as honey but sharp as glass. you stopped just short of him, shifting the five trophies in your arms so they pressed against your chest. the weight of them pushed your tits up just enough to catch his eyes.

“looks like I’ve got... a plus one on you this year.” you smirked, shaking the awards a little for good measure, the motion making the crystals on your dress catch the dim hallway light.

his eyes flicked down—brief, subtle, but not subtle enough—and then back up, his expression neutral, but you could feel the shift in his ego.

“congrats,” he said, the word clipped like it physically hurt him.

“thanks, babe,” you purred, turning on your heel with a sway of your hips. “see you next season. maybe.”

and with that, you left, letting the click of your heels carry the weight of your victory.

[...]

days later, you were lounging in minghao’s big leather chair, legs crossed up on his table, showing the expensive ass high heels you always wore. his assistant had let you in with barely a question, and you weren’t one to waste an opportunity.

when he finally walked in, his eyes narrowed immediately. “what the hell are you doing here?”

“relax,” you drawled, leaning back like his office was a spa. “your assistant said I could wait. guess they like me more than you.”

he folded his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “didn’t think you’d show your face here after the other night. thought you’d be busy polishing all those trophies.”

you grinned, slow and smug. “oh, i polished them. just thought i’d stop by to see how you’re doing. must be hard, you know—losing.”

his jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. instead, he stepped closer, looming over you. “you done?”

“not even close,” you said, standing up to match his energy. you stopped just shy of his chest, tipping your chin up. “but don’t worry, hao. i’ll let you borrow a trophy sometime if you really need the validation.” you patted his shoulder.

he scoffed, his lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer. “you know, i like your attitude.”

you raised an eyebrow. “yeah? you must, considering how much you stalk me every season.”

“maybe that’s why we should work together.”

you laughed, loud and sharp, tossing your head back. “oh, that’s rich. you? work with me? what, so you can take credit for my ideas and call it a ‘collaboration’?”

he tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. “i’m serious. we’d be unstoppable.”

for a second, you almost believed him. “unstoppable, huh? what makes you think i’d even want to work with you?”

“because you like the challenge... admit it. you love it when i push you.”

“you’re intolerable.”

“and yet,” he murmured, stepping so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, “you haven’t left yet.”

your laugh came out breathy this time, your pulse quickening as his hand grazed the curve of your hip. “you think I’m staying here for you? please. your assistant let me in, remember?”

“sure,” he said. his thumb traced slow circles against your side, almost lazy. “but you’re still here.”

you were about to snap back with something cutting, something to wipe that stupid smirk off his face, but then he tilted your chin up with two fingers, his gaze locked on yours like a predator sizing up prey.

“stop thinking,” he whispered, leaning in just enough for your lips to almost touch. “you might actually enjoy yourself.”

his lips were soft and plump, moving against yours so fucking good that felt unfair. his hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him, and you couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped.

your hands found his chest, the fabric of his shirt warm under your fingertips as you pushed him slightly, breaking the kiss with a smirk. “you’re bold, i’ll give you that.”

“you’re still thinking,” he teased, catching your bottom lip between his teeth before pulling back.

your hands slid up to his shoulders, gripping just enough to feel the flex of his muscles. you threatened to sit on his table.

his eyes widened slighty, his hands immediately grabbing your ass to lift you up, making you yelp. “don’t!”

“what? scared i’ll break it?” you teased, wrapping your legs around his waist.

he places the needles that were spread lazily on the table, inside of a box. he turned, his grip firm as he carried you a few steps and sat you on a nearby armchair.

“there were needles on that table, genius,” he scolded, his tone sulky but his fingers tracing slow lines along your thighs. “you’d be bleeding before I even got started.”

“aww,” you cooed, dragging your nails down his neck. “you worried about me, hao?”

“no,” he muttered, kneeling, dipping his head to kiss along your jawline, his teeth grazing just enough to make you arch towards him. “just don’t want to ruin my night with a trip to the hospital.”

your laugh turned into a soft moan as his lips found the spot just below your ear. “guess you’re not as heartless as you act.”

he pulled back slightly, his smirk sharper than ever. “you talk too much.”

you pulled him in for another kiss, your tongues colliding this time. when you tried to take control, tilting your head for a deeper angle, he pulled back just enough to make you chase him.

minghao’s hands were firm on your thighs, his thumbs brushing against your skin like he wasn’t about to wreck you in the middle of his office. his eyes dragged down, lingering on the way your skirt was pushed up, the space between your legs bare and unapologetic.

he clicked his tongue, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “no panties, huh?” he said. “came here like this?”

“what can I say?” you shot back, shifting slightly so his hands pressed harder against your skin. “i had a feeling you’d end up on your knees.”

his smirk deepened, his fingers tightening slightly as he leaned in, close enough for you to feel his breath. he pressed your legs further onto the armrests, spreading you wider, his hands splayed like he wanted to leave imprints.

his tongue flicked out, close enough to make you tense—but he didn’t touch you. instead, he pulled back, his eyes locking with yours as a smirk tugged at his lips.

he leaned in again, his tongue brushing so close you could feel the warmth from his breath, but once again, he pulled back just as you tilted your hips forward.

“hao..” you warned.

“what?” he teased, his lips hovering over your folds.

your hands gripped the armrests as you glared down at him. “if you don’t stop playing, i swear—”

he cut you off with a broad, strong lick, dragging his tongue from your entrance, through your folds, and up to your clit in one unbroken suck. your head fell back as a gasp tore from your lips.

“that shut you up,” he muttered, his voice muffled as he dipped lower, his tongue swirling around your entrance before moving back up. “needy much?”

“shut up and do it again,” you shot back, your voice sharper than the way your thighs trembled under his grip.

and he did the same. your clit throbbing at the rough skin of his tongue, making you melt on his armchair, he smiled at the sight, he knew how a good head felt after months dealing with needles and sparkly cloths.

his lips latched onto your folds, sucking them into his mouth before he pulls back just slightly, his tongue flicking against your clit in quick, teasing strokes. you let out a pornographic moan, before your clap a hand on your mouth, remembering the team outside the office. he chuckled darkly, his hands tightening on your thighs to hold you still. his lips wrapping around your clit again. this time, he sucked it fully into his mouth, his tongue flicking against it as his eyes flicked up to yours.

“you’re so good at this, hmm—fuuuck!” you said, your nails drowning in the leather of the armchair. “you must’ve practiced on a lot of other girls, huh?”

his eyes narrowed slightly, and his teeth grazed your clit just enough to make you wwhimper. “jealous?” he asked, his voice smug, though he didn’t stop the relentless motion of his tongue.

“please,” you shot back, though the way your breath hitched betrayed you as he did a zig-zag on your bud with the tip of his otngue. “you’re better when you’re silent.”

he smirked against you, his lips curving as he pulled back just enough to speak. “then shut me up.”

your fingers tangled in minghao’s hair, tugging him closer, harder, until his face was buried against your pussy. his groan vibrated through you, desperate, and his hands clamped down on your thighs to steady himself as you rolled your hips against his mouth.

“that’s it... mhmm, just like that...”

he obeyed, his head bobbing as his tongue slid against you in broad, wet strokes, his lips sealing around your clit every few seconds to suck, deep and rhythmic. the wet, obscene sounds filled the room, and your nails scraped lightly against his scalp as you held him there, guiding him exactly how you wanted.

the heat in your core coiled tighter, and you barely had time to register your orgasm hit.

your back arched, your mouth falling open as moans spilled out shamelessly. your hips rolled against his face as you came, and minghao didn’t stop—not for a second. he worked you through it, sucking and licking as though he felt your climax before you did.

he only pulled back when you began to squirm, your breath coming in sharp gasps as overstimulation took hold. his lips and chin were slick as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes glinting as he looked up at you.

“had fun?” he asked, sarcastically.

you gave a breathless laugh, your chest heaving as you leaned back in the chair. “you talk too much for someone who just spent five minutes swallowing my pussy.”

his smirk widened, and he stood, his hands braced on the armrests as he leaned down, his face inches from yours. “and you talk too much for someone who’s about to beg me to fuck her.”

your gaze flicked to his lips, and then lower—to the bulge straining against his pants. “big words,” you said. “let’s see if you can back them up.”

his hands slid to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he walked you back toward the desk—no needles this time. you didn't even had time to register what was happening before your skirt was pushed higher, his fingers brushing over your thighs as he settled you on the edge.

his hand worked his belt, the clink of the buckle making you clench around nothing.

“this isn’t gonna be quick,” he said as he freed himself, the sheer size of him making your breath catch. it was big both in length and girth.

you swallowed hard.

“relax... mhmm”

he teased your entrance with the tip, sliding it slowly against you, and the stretch was immediate, even as he slightly pressed in. your breath hitched, your hands gripping the edge of the desk as he pushed forward, achingly slow, giving you time to adjust.

“ngh—fuck!” you gasped, your voice breaking as he filled you inch by hard inch.

“breathe,” he murmured, his tone gentle despite the tension in his body. mouth glued on yours to make sure he feels your puffs of air.

“trying”

he paused, his hands tightening on your hips as he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. “you’re okay,” he whispered. “just breathe for me.”

you hiccuped, your chest rising and falling in shallow gasps as your body struggled to adjust.

“there you go,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your jaw as he waited “good girl. just like that.”

you exhaled slowly, your body relaxing slightly helping him to slid in further, the fullness stealing the air from your lungs.

your hands gripped his arms, your nails digging into his skin as he finally bottomed out, his body pressed flush against yours.

“fuck,” he muttered, his voice tight as he buried his face in your neck. “you’re—so fucking tight.”

you swallowed hard, your head tilting back as you tried to catch your breath. “you’re—so fucking big.”

he pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours as a smirk tugged at his lips. “think you can take it?”

your breath hitched, and you nodded, your hands sliding to his back as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “try me.”

minghao hips pulls back just an inch before thrusting forward experimentally. the sound that left your lips was somewhere between a moan and a strangled gasp, your nails biting into his shoulders as your body clenched around him.

he paused, a smug smile tugging at his lips as he tilted his head to the side, his eyes flicking over your face. “yeah, knew that’d happen.”

“don’t—” your breath hitched as he moved just slightly, a tiny shift that made you clutch at him even harder. “don’t fucking smile like that.”

his laugh was quiet, he leaned down, his forehead brushing against yours. “why not? you’re almost cummin already.”

“i’m not—” the words caught in your throat as he slid just a little deeper, your body trying desperately to adjust to his size.

“not what?” he asked, his tone playful as he stilled again, waiting for you to catch your breath.

“not—cumming” you managed, though your voice shook with the effort of speaking.

“hmm.” his thumb grazed your clit, circling it trying to soothe your nerves. “then why are you holding on to me likethat?”

you glared at him, though the effect was probably ruined by the way your mouth fell open with a gasp as his thumb pressed down just slightly harder.

your body tensed as he began to move again, sliding in slowly, each inch dragging against you in a way that made your head fall back. the wet squelch of your body adjusting to his girth filled the room, obscenelly.

“shit,” he muttered, his voice tight as he wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you steady. “you’re so—tight. feels like you’re trying to squeeze me out.”

“maybe i am.”

he laughed softly “you’re all talk,” he murmured, his thumb still circling your clit. “that pussy is begging for me.”

“hao,” you whispered, your hands clutching at his arms as your legs tightened around his waist. “i—fuck, i can’t—”

“you can,” he said softly, his lips moving against your neck. “breathe for me, baby. you’ve got this.”

you exhaled shakily, your chest rising and falling against his as you tried to relax, tried to let the tension in your body melt away. his thumb pressed a little harder against your clit, insistent, coaxing pleasure to override the discomfort.

“that’s it,” he murmured, his voice soft as his arm tightened around your waist. “just like that. let me in.”

your head fell back, your eyes fluttering shut as he finally slid deeper, his hips pressing flush against yours. the sensation stole the breath from your lungs, and your fingers dug into his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor you.

“you okay?”

you nodded weakly, your hands sliding up to grip his hair as you whispered, “move.”

he chuckled as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “not yet.”

your eyes snapped open, frustration bubbling in your chest as you glared at him. “hao—”

“relax,” he murmured, his thumb circling your clit again, making you cry out slyly. “i’m not gonna ruin you all at once. gotta make sure you can take it.”

“i can,”

“we’ll see,” he said, his tone smug as he finally, finally pulled back, his cock dragging against you.

“hao, just—fuck me already.”

his laugh was quiet. “you’re not ready for that yet, look—” he roll his hips, making you hiccup again. “but don’t worry—I’ll get you there.”

“how about you?” you ask, feeling your orgasm building up as he circled the thumb faster, your hips rolling slightly, weak, like the cock inside you was to heavy to make you roll them freely.

“i can get off just by looking at this pretty face...” he slaps your cheek weakly, twice, making you squeeze around him. “listen to what i'm telling you��� you're still going to model for my brand.” he chuckles.

“i’d rather choke to death than work with your brand.”

“why don’t you choke on something else, then?”

[probably-an-alien]

Everyone please go watch this!

In honor of Whale Weekly ending, the opera is up on ok.ru and you can watch it spoiler free. It's actually very good and the double duet between Ahab and Starbuck and Ishmael and Queequeg is just chef's kiss.