#church and surf

[thelensofyashunews]

DURKALINI ANNOUNCES NEW SURF GANG-PRODUCED LP CHURCH & SURF – OUT 08/15 VIA SURF GANG RECORDS

Following the release of lead single "BOTTEGA BOOTS", Alabama-grown newcomer Durkalini has just announced that his new SURF GANG-produced LP CHURCH & SURF will arrive later this week on August 15th. An artist hailed for his off-the-wall bars and rapturous flows, the announcement follows Durkalini's previous collaboration with SURF GANG headmaster evilgiane on the Fergie-interpolating, Woesum-assisted "GLAMOROUS" from evilgiane's critically-acclaimed #HEAVENSGATE VOL. 1 project, released earlier this year.

Known for his genre-bending pluggnb sound that blends elements of Atlanta trap and Milwaukee bounce, Durkalini first exploded onto the scene with breakout single "BMF 4", which earned the former championship-winning University of Alabama football player co-signs from the likes of Doja Cat and Rx Papi.

CHURCH & SURF arrives on the heels of an exciting year for SURF GANG and evilgiane — after receiving a 2024 GRAMMY "Best Rap Performance" nomination for his work on Kendrick Lamar & Baby Keem's"The Hillbillies", he's since released both a collab album with Slimesito, EVILSLIME, as well as January mixtape #HEAVENSGATE VOL. 1.

The project boasted features from the likes of Rx Papi,454, Xaviersobased, Nettspend, 03Greedo, and FLEE and was instantly met with critical acclaim from The FADER, Stereogum, Hypebeast, and Pitchfork. Recent months have seen SURF GANG join forces with Massachusetts singer LUCY (Cooper B. Handy) on their collaboration tape JACK & THE BEANSTALK as well as Inglewood artist Bbyafricka on new EP HARD COPY.

CHURCH & SURF – OUT 08/15 PRE-SAVE

[surfline-screenshots]

Church, San Onofre, CA

[soov]

how many aura points do i get when ppl shut up when its my turn to talk and other 5 say they want to get to know me better 🙏🙏

[whatthemelmel]

Yesssss girl get that nap

My First Sermon, 1863 and My Second Sermon, 1864 by John Everett Millais (English, 1829–1896)

[thelattertimesofbeingcrazyfc]

Dreams of the Shore, Guided by Grace 🏄🏼🙏🏼

From the time I was a young cub,A dream bloomed within my heart,Of beaches kissed by the golden sun,And waves that danced with every part.In Illinois, no ocean to greet,But still, I held onto that hope, so sweet. I grew into a young Kāne,With surf stickers on my car,Wearing shirts, bracelets, chains,A surfer’s spirit, though near and far.No board in my hands, no sea in my sight,But the dream of…

[r4di0h3ad]

3 times jj kissed you + 1 time you kissed him

parings! bsf!jj x reader

warnings! . smoking. fluff. angst if you squint. not proof read.

the first time, you were 14.

you had moved to the outerbanks at the beginning of your 7th grade year, terrified out of your mind. you didn’t know a soul, you didn’t know how people in a beach town behaved, what they wore, how they talked.

but on your very first day at kildare county middle school, you met your people.

jj was the first to talk to you, telling you he liked your t shirt you got from a popular surf shop that you had agonized over, wondering if people would like it. he was the first to make you feel comfortable.

gradually, you started sitting with him in science class, and then you started sitting with him and his friends at lunch. you met john b, kiara, and pope and you were inseparable since.

now it was the middle of your 8th grade year. kiara was throwing her birthday party where half of the middle school seemed to be invited. her circle of friends was much larger at that time due to her being considered in between a pogue and a kook.

the girls had decided to play the classic party game, spin the bottle and mostly everyone at the party gathered around in a crowded circle. it seemed like everybody playing wasn’t the least bit nervous about kissing someone else, but you were picking at the skin of you fingers because you had never been kissed.

you anxiously awaited your turn, watching the bottle intently in case it landed on you, but thankfully, it never did.

and then your turn came around. you nervously spun the bottle, hoping it wouldn’t land on some guy or girl you hardly knew. it did a few rotations, everyone eager to know who you were going to kiss.

the bottle settled on jj directly across from you.

you immediately felt better, knowing that it was one of your friends who would steal your first kiss, but then you chided yourself for even thinking about kissing one of your friends.

jj came across the circle to where you were sitting and grabbed your hands, pulling you to your feet. he didn’t seem nervous at all, but that was just how jj was.

you noticed some of the kook girls staring at the two of you, jealous that it wasn’t them who got to kiss him.

“you can skip me if you don’t wanna kiss me, y’know?” he said, but not in a way that was telling you he didn’t want this. he spoke with a quiet and sweet tone, making sure you were okay. he was always making sure you were okay. he knew this was your first kiss and he didn’t want to take that from you if you weren’t alright with it.

“no, it’s okay.” you shook your head, smiling nervously.

he nodded and then gently placed his hands on both sides of your face before he leaned in.

you closed your eyes and waited for his lips to touch yours.

you always thought you would be clueless during your first kiss, but he made it feel natural.

his lips gently pecked yours, lingering for a few seconds before he pulled away.

you heard ooo’s and ahh’s from the teenagers around you and you couldn’t help the redness that rushed to your face. you were glad it was him.

that night you also kissed two others. one random kook boy who you hardly knew and one girl who was in your english class. the girls never skipped each other because they knew the kisses were meaningless, and those last two kisses were definitely meaningless. but the one with jj felt different. you tried to make yourself think it was because it was your first one. you had also watched jj kiss a few more girls that night. you scolded yourself for feeling a tinge of jealousy.

what you didn’t know was that jj placed himself directly across from you to have a better chance of your spin landing on him.

the second time, you were 16.

you had just discovered the golden cross in a dilapidated church. pope was hacking away at the wood encasing the treasure, pieces of it crashing to the ground.

when you saw the gold shimmer through the wood, your eyes lit up. you couldn’t believe that everything you had gone through had brought you to this moment. you couldn’t believe you actually found what you were looking for.

everyone celebrated with shouts, with cheers saying “we’re gonna be rich!” and with hugs.

your adrenaline was so high, you felt like you were dreaming.

jj took your face in his hands and planted a kiss right on your lips. it happened so fast you could barely comprehend what was happening and when he pulled away, your eyes met his and you saw the excitement on his face. you knew he only kissed you because there was so much to celebrate about that he didn’t know what to do with it.

you watched him hug john b as kie and sarah hugged you. he didn’t have that same look in his eyes when he celebrated with them.

you never mentioned it afterwards.

john b was the only one who saw him kiss you. a few days later, he told jj to just ask you out already.

“everyone knows it j.” john b said.

“knows what?”

“that you’re in love with her.” he said it like it was the most obvious thing ever. “you’ve been crazy about that girl since you were 13, it’s almost embarrassing that you’ve never done anything about it.” they were the only ones in the twinkie together, waiting for the 3 girls to get in the van for another daily adventure.

“she’s like- i don’t know, man.” jj shook his head. “she’d never say yes. i’d rather not fuck our whole relationship up, y’know?” he said with a hint of sarcasm.

john b scoffed.

“you’re saying she’d never say yes but you don’t see the way she looks at you?” he said. “either you’re choosing to ignore it or you’re just flat out stupid.”

the third time, you were 17

jj had shown up at your house in the pouring rain with a bruise forming on his cheek and a cut on his lower lip. the second you saw his face, you knew it was his dad.

“can i stay here tonight?” he asked, as you were already pulling him inside.

you took him to your bathroom and he rolled a joint while you found some rubbing alcohol for the cuts on his face.

he sat on the wall of the bathtub and you sat on the toilet, turning yourself to face him. he lit his joint before you dabbed a cotton pad doused in alcohol on his injuries. he flinched slightly from the pain before he took a hit from his joint, instantly soothing it.

you could’ve killed his dad for what he did. you noticed jj’s eyes were red, probably from tears. he didn’t deserve any of what his dad had put him through.

you fixed him up in silence, not wanting to touch on the subject of what happened between him and his dad.

“you’re making the house smell like weed.” you said, half-jokingly.

“shit, are your parents home?” he asked, getting ready to stub out the joint on the bathtub, but you took it from his fingers and held it to your mouth, taking a long drag and exhaling.

“they never are.” you replied.

you notice his eyes trail down to your lips as you smoked, his breath hitching. it was silent, but there was a tension that was speaking volumes between you two. the fact that he came to your house instead of john b’s was proof enough for how much he felt for you, and anyone with half a brain could see it. but you always wrote it off, not truly believing that he could have any feelings that weren’t strictly platonic towards you.

almost unconsciously, he leaned in. you let him.

his lips touched yours, his hand supporting himself on your knee. he tasted of weed and your cherry rolling papers. he tasted good.

when he pulled away, you were almost frozen, the joint still resting between your fingers, burning away. his eyes were wide with a look of regret and your heart sank.

“im- im sorry, i shouldn’t have-“ he started, realizing his hand was touching your bare leg and immediately taking it off like it was burning him.

“it’s okay,” you handed him the joint. “you’re just- you’re high.”

he cleared his throat.

“i’m sorry.” he uttered again.

later, when you went to bed that night, you wished you had kissed him again, and again. the only thing that played in your mind for the next week was the taste of his lips. but friends couldn’t think of each other like that, right?

you kissed him about a month later.

he asked you to go on a boat ride with him since you two were the only ones in the chateau at the time. you agreed, of course.

you were a little far out from the shore, seemingly being the only two people out at the moment. he had stopped the boat and began rolling a joint as you watched, seated across from him. he was so focused on crafting the joint that he didn’t even notice you staring at him.

you thought about every time he had kissed you, and every time you just shrugged it off. and you thought about the fact that every time you were near him, you wanted him to do it again. but why wouldn’t you just do it? what was the harm?

he looked up only to lick the paper, his eyes meeting yours and a smile playing on his lips.

so you did it.

you leaned in and connected your lips to his. he kissed you back almost immediately and moved his mouth in sync with yours. his hands went to your waist and yours went to his hair.

it was minutes later when you finally pulled away, both out of breath.

“i’ve wanted to kiss you like that since the day i met you.” he said, his hands still on your waist.

“don’t know what was stopping you.” you giggled.

his hand went up to your flushed cheek.

“well i really don’t want anything to stop me again.” he kissed you again.

you came back late at night to find your friends. your cheeks were still read, your hair was a little messy and a barely visible hickey was left on your collar.

everyone knew immediately. and everyone was glad they would never have to witness the mutual pining between you two again.

taglist! (comment or message to be added or removed!) @ifilwtmfc @xcallmetaniax @moondustedlily

[lovemaybankk]

secret boyfriend: jj maybank x pastorsdaughter!reader (18+)

pairing: jj maybank x pastorsdaughter!reader

summary: jj maybank had been quietly drawn to you for weeks, his admiration growing with each passing conversation. what started as simple chats after church turned into something more meaningful, as he found himself captivated by your warmth and innocence.

word count: 1,837 words

author's note: thanks for reading guys :) i thought this was a super cute idea and i also wanted to write at least one one-shot during this super busy week of mine where i can't work on any series!

warning: mdni, all fluff, established relationship, cursing, making out, groping, touching, suggestive comments

every sunday after the morning service, your family followed the same tradition: an afternoon at the country club for lunch and a leisurely round of golf. but lately, it hasn't been the savory belgian waffles or your father’s golf swing you paid attention to.

it was jj maybank.

he worked at the club, weaving between tables with a natural ease that didn’t quite match the prim-and-proper atmosphere.

his sun-kissed blonde hair made you stare, and those striking blue eyes had a way of locking onto yours, making your breath hitch every time. he was so charming to you, always giving small compliments while still being respectful. his laugh was a carefree, warm sound that cut through the stuffy ambiance of the country club. his sleeves were always rolled up, revealing his strong arms that revealed his hours of hard work.

he intrigued you even more when your father convinced him to start coming to sunday services. knowing your dad, it probably involved a mix of persistence and his usual heartfelt assurances about redemption and second chances.

week after week, you’d catch jj in the back, sitting with his legs stretched out and his arms casually draped over the church pew. his blonde hair was always a little messy, as if he’d just rolled out of bed, and his blue eyes would flicker between the pastor and the stained-glass windows, half-listening, half-lost in thought.

he never dressed like the rest of the congregation—baggyish jeans, scuffed sneakers, and a plain t-shirt or flannel that clung to his lean, strong frame. he radiated that same effortless confidence you noticed, like he did not care if he belonged to the rest of the island.

and it was during those quiet moments after the service, when the congregation buzzed with small talk and your parents were busy greeting members, that he’d find you. his usual charm softened into something more genuine as he spoke to you, asking about the sermon or making quiet jokes about how out of place he felt.

those conversations became your favorite part of sunday mornings. because no matter how loud the room was, when jj talked to you, it felt like you were the only two people there.

jj would follow you and your family after the sermon to the country club to start his shift, and it became your routine to pick up your conversations where you’d left off. as he cleared the dishes or refilled glasses, he’d find ways to talk to you without drawing attention, his voice low and warm, meant only for you.

one afternoon, as he placed a plate of food down in front of you, you looked up at him with a curious smile. "so, what do you actually like to do when you're not working here?"

jj raised an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard by the question. "uh, well, i like to surf when I get the chance," he said, a bit of pride in his voice. "there's something about being out on the water, y'know?"

you nodded, intrigued. "that sounds amazing. i can’t imagine being that close to the water like that. do you ever get tired of it?"

he shook his head, his grin widening. "nah, it's my escape. and that makes sense, i mean, you seem like the type who’d rather stay inside with a movie or something."

you laughed, caught off guard by his accuracy. "yes, but that still sounds pretty great. do you do anything else when you're not surfing?"

"not much else, honestly," he said with a shrug. and although there was much more to his life, he wanted to keep it safe from the pastor's daughter and keep his responses calm. "i keep things simple."

"simple’s good," you replied, smiling softly.

he shot you a playful look. "maybe one day you’ll come out with me."

as the weeks passed, those fleeting conversations grew longer and deeper. jj would linger at your table longer than he should, finding excuses to bring extra bread or check on your drink. the walls between you began to crumble, piece by piece, as he opened up about his life and himself like his adventures with the pogues.

jj always noticed the innocence you emitted. that’s what caught him. it wasn’t just the way you smiled, soft and genuine, or how your eyes lit up when you talked about the things that mattered to you, it was something deeper.

there was a purity in you, an untouched quality that made him want to protect you from the world he knew too well. he’d never met anyone who looked at life the way you did, who could still believe in the good in people despite everything around them. he was drawn to it, to you, as if you were the last piece of light in a world that had grown too dark for him to believe in.

your kindness, your gentle nature, the way you saw the best in people, even in someone like him, it all pulled at him in ways he couldn’t explain. it made him feel like he was worth more than the life he’d led, more than the boy who’d always been on the edge of things, never quite fitting in. that innocence you emitted became his anchor, his reason to keep coming back, week after week. it was the thing that kept him hanging around after church, the thing that made him linger just a little too long at your table at the country club, always trying to get closer to you, hoping you’d let him into your world, even if it meant hiding the truth from everyone else.

the world you came from and the one jj lived in were not supposed to overlap. your father’s stern voice echoed in your mind every time jj’s hand brushed yours or his smile lingered just a little too long.

you hid your growing connection in stolen moments. behind the shelter of the church pews, in quiet corners of the country club, or during whispered phone calls late at night.

your relationship grew slowly, built on moments like that. jj loved the innocence you carried, the way you seemed to trust so easily and see the good in everything. and he never wanted to be the one to ruin that for you, no matter how much he wanted to be closer.

one evening, you felt your phone buzz and saw a text from jj.

jj: hey, how was ur day?

you smiled as you typed back.

y/n: it was good! pretty normal. church, the usual sunday stuff. how about u?

a few moments later, the phone buzzed again.

jj: same here. worked all day, but it wasn’t too bad. kinda nice, actually. got to clear my head

you leaned back, thinking about how calm he sounded in his text.

y/n: sounds like a good way to spend the day

jj: yeah, it’s peaceful. but honestly, i was just looking forward to talking to u. makes the day feel a little better

your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you quickly typed back.

y/n: i’m glad u feel that way!! it’s always nice to hear from u

jj: same here. ur the best part of my day, u know that?

you smiled, your cheeks heating up.

y/n: you’re too sweet, jj. but it’s good to know we both feel the same

jj: goodnight angel

y/n: goodnight jj, talk soon?

jj: ofc, always

you smiled, setting your phone down, feeling a warmth spread through you. even after a simple conversation, everything seemed just a little bit brighter.

but you both knew the risks. when he’d brush past you in the hallway at church or linger a little too long at your table at the club, you’d glance around, paranoid that someone might notice. you hid it all—your stolen smiles, your quiet talks, the feelings that had grown into something undeniable.

"you’re worth all of it," jj told you one evening after a particularly close call with your dad. he leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. "the hiding, the waiting, all of it. you’re worth every second."

and no matter how much you tried to push it away, you knew you felt the same.

there you were, behind the church building, bells ringing. you and jj were in his truck, and you were sitting on top of him, amidst making out with him with his hands all over you.

you backed out, a small string of saliva falling from the connection of both your mouths and both your breaths ragged. you still felt jj's firm grip on your plump hips as well as his grope on your breasts and he was staring deeply into your eyes, hungry for your touch.

jj started to chuckle, and with a wide smirk on his face, said, "what's wrong angel? are you afraid we'll be caught?"

you exclaimed to hm, "yes, jayj! let's go inside before my parents wonder why i've been gone for so long!"

his grin only grew wider, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes, amusement mixed with a hint of mischief.

"you’re really that worried, huh?" he teased, stepping closer as if testing the line between playful and too dangerous. he started to gently rub your clothed clit, making a wave of pleasure run through your body and a gentle whimper come out of your mouth. "worried that your parents will see that their sweet and beautiful daughter isn't as innocent as they thought?"

you shot him a nervous glance, your heart racing, knowing you both couldn’t afford to take the risk but at the same time, you felt heat rising through your body and wetness soaking through your panties. "stop it, we can’t," you whispered urgently, your voice shaking ever so slightly as you gently cup his face.

he chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the tension, "i want you all to myself..." he took a glance up and down your body, from admiring the way your hair wrapped around your face to the curve of your breasts out of your white dress to the plush thighs that were wrapped around him to the fresh pedicure on your toes through your short heels.

but his expression softened when he saw the seriousness in your eyes. "alright, alright," he said with a sigh and releasing his hands from your hips. "we’ll go inside. but i don’t plan on making this the last time."

"what are you going on about now?" you teased, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

"you know how tonight we plan to sneak me into your room? well, i'm just thinking about how we will continue this and how i'll be doing more than only this, angel."

you gave him a nervous smile, your heart skipping a beat as you turned to head back toward the building. you knew this was only the beginning, but how long you could keep the secret between the two of you was anyone’s guess.

taglist! - @purplerose291, @o0itsjustme0o, @gillybear17, @l1ttlesstar, @10ava01, @frankoceanluvr11, @mattyskies, @my-name-is-baby, @ironmakerperfection, @cherry-coloureddfunk, @hoelesslyt, @crazylady20, @itsyourmanjuno, @wtfdudesblog

[thequeenofcurses]

Deadly Valentine

story inspired by the above & this art by @sweetlandspos (with permission to post here <3)

summary: ghostface!bf sukuna x f!reader. sukuna doesn't want to wait 'til halloween to try out the new mask kink you told him about tw: CNC, dubcon, mask kink, slight yandere?, dacryphilia, knife play, rough, ghostface, break-in, breeding, sry if I miss something, im so bad at tws. not really proofread words: 4500 (sorry)

masterlist | jjk masterlist

As soon as you got home from work, you knew something was up.

It was eerily quiet. The tv wasn't on and the living room looked as if nobody had touched it.

The house was often filled with some sort of noise and Sukuna always made sure that the tv was always on or he was gaming.

“Kuna, I'm home.”

Nothing.

“Sukuna?!”

Silence.

Maybe he wasn't home? But where would he go?

You checked the whole house and his car was still here, yet no sign of him. Perhaps he went to buy some beer?

You were about to head upstairs until you heard a knock at the door.

Your heart started to beat rapidly in your chest.

Who could that be? Was it Sukuna? No, he would've called you.

You hesitantly opened the door to see a white and black ghost shaped mask staring back at you.

“Er, hello?”

There was no response.

“Can I help you?”

The mask turned his head slowly, and in a raspy voice, he said, “you're so cute.” His voice was distorted by some kind of voice changer.

You scoff. “Thanks, but I have a boyfriend. Now, if you'll excuse me-” You try to close the door, but the masked person wedges their foot in between the door, preventing you from closing it.

“I just have one question.” He doesn't move his foot.

You sigh heavily. “What is it?”

“What's your favorite scary movie?” he asks.

You roll your eyes then put your finger on your chin and tilt your head up cutely while you ponder. “Saw.”

He finally removes his foot and steps away from the door.

“That's a good choice”, he says. "I like when people get cut up, too."

You give him a curt nod and go to shut the door, but before it completely closes, he sticks his head in and whispers, “I'll be seeing you real soon.”

The door slams on his head and he grunts. You hear a chuckle as he walks away and then the sound of his footsteps disappearing.

“What the fuck?”

You quickly lock the door and take off your shoes and jacket, running up the stairs.

“Sukuna!” you shout as you look for him. You check every room possible, making sure the doors and windows are locked, yet the house seems as empty as a church on a weekday.

You breathe steadily trying to calm yourself down. It was probably just one of the neighbors playing a prank. Sukuna should be home soon.

As if he could sense your weariness, your phone beeps with a text from Satoru Gojo.

Gojo: Woman, I'm at the store with this moron Gojo. He rushed me and I ended up forgetting my phone, so I'm borrowing his. Need anything? ~Sukuna

You: I just need you <3

Gojo: can you two not get all mushy on my phone... ~Toru

You shake your head, putting your phone away, and decide to make some popcorn and watch a movie while you wait for him to get home. The second you slide the bag into the microwave you hear another knock at the door that makes you freeze. The store was at least ten minutes away, so there's no way Sukuna could've gotten home so quickly...

You tiptoe to the front door, peeking through the peephole. Nothing. Maybe it was just the wind.

POP! A kernel from the microwave sounds off, jolting your attention back to the kitchen.

This is getting really annoying.

You plop back onto the couch, awaiting your buttery snack to finish it's creation. You surf through the Netflix screen until you find something you like. The screen blackens and the room is pitch black, silent. The only sound coming from the kitchen.

THUMP! You flinch once again, the sound catching you off guard. Okay, what the fuck is going on? It sounded like some thing or some one, had fallen upstairs.

POP! POP! POP! The popcorn cried out for you, signaling it's readiness. You hurriedly take it out and leave the bag on the stove. You quickly open the top kitchen drawer and grab a knife. If someone really is here, I'm going down fighting, you think.

Your phone rings.

UNKNOWN NUMBER

It would be dumb to answer the call. It's so obvious, yet something in your brain compels you to do so.

"H-hello?"

"I told you I would be seeing you again."

"Who the fuck is this?"

"Come upstairs and find out." The call ends, and you're left confused with a heart beating so quickly, you can hear it. You pull up Gojo's contact and hit call.

"We're sorry. The number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service."

You dial 911.

"We're sorry. The number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service."

BEEP! Incoming text.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Nice try, sweetie.

Fuck, fuck. FUCK! My phone service isn't working. You pace in the kitchen as your mind racks with a million thoughts. I can't call for help or Sukuna. I just might have to face this guy.

You're not going to go up there.

Don't.

It's a trap.

That's how every dumb bitch in every horror movie dies.

Yet, your feet have a mind of their own, and they softly take you up the stairs. You hold the knife pointed outward as you ascend the stairs to your shared bedroom. Worst case scenario, if that masked person really did break in, you can use those self-defense moves Sukuna taught you and restrain them until the police arrive.

Your heart beats rapidly with every step you take. An advantage you have that the ghost doesn't is you know this house like the back of your hand. There's a secret door in the back of your bedroom closet that also leads to the hallway. You drop to a crawl and quietly sneak through the secret passageway. The ghost will never see you coming. 

As you finally reach the door leading to your closet you inaudibly open it, firmly grasping the knob, as to not let its click make any noise. After you go through, you come face to feet with shoes you don’t own. Fuck.

CLAP CLAP CLAP. He’s clapping, he’s fucking clapping. 

“Impressive,” he laughs with that distorted voice. “I knew you would try to go this way.”

“Don’t hesitate,” you hear Sukuna’s training voice in your mind. “Strike first. Ask questions when they’re where you want them.”

You do a side kick, aiming for the ghost’s knee. He stumbles backward, out of your closet and you use your bought time to stand to your feet. You rise, kitchen knife in your right hand. You finally size him up and holy fuck, he’s so much bigger than you. He’s at least a whole foot taller. He stares at you, waiting for you to make your next move.

You blink back your thoughts. Focus. You rush at him, aiming to stab him in the shoulder. You swing downward, pump faking, as if you were going for his groin, then at the last second, change directions, slicing him in the shoulder. The slice cuts through the fabric, barely piercing his skin. The knife has the tiniest drop of blood on the tip.

Is this guy insane? You internally deliberate. He didn’t even attempt to move.

“W-why,” you stutter out. “Why didn’t you dodge!?”

He scoffs. “Why would I dodge a meaningless attack like that?” The ghost tilts his head, wagging two fingers at you. Asshole. “Come at me again.”

You don’t rush this time, but wait for an opening. The ghost waves at you, taunting, and that’s when you decide to slice again. When he looks like he’s vulnerable, you aim for his chest this time. You use your body weight to thrust forward and the knife looks like it’s going to connect. Until it doesn’t. The ghost grabs your weaponized arm, then uses his other hand to force you into an armbar. He hooks his left arm over your right one, shifting the weight. He twists your hand backward towards the ground until you’re forced to make a decision.

In this position, you have to either drop the knife or you’ll drop to the ground. Either way, you’re fucked. 

You try to hold on, but he’s too strong. He slightly presses down on your hand and it’s enough to make you wince in pain. You let the knife slip out of your fingers and he finally lets go of your hand. 

For only a second. 

The next moment, he turns you and puts you in a headlock, his left arm under your neck and his right one above your head.

“I told you,” he laughs. “Meaningless.”

“My boyfriend– ” you gasp out. “Is going to kill you.”

“Oh, really?” He lets you go and claps dramatically. The power in your room seems to suddenly go out and you’re both enveloped in darkness. Just outside of your room window you notice flashing lights coming through the crack in the curtains. The ghost pulls them back only for you to see Sukuna to be tied to a chair with strobe lights behind him. Your heart drops to your stomach.

“Please don’t,” your voice is shaky and raspy. You drop to your knees, not sure if the ghost can even see you in this darkness. “Please, please, don’t hurt him.”

As if on cue to torture you further, outside the window Sukuna is stabbed right in front of you. Your eyes well with tears and your breath gets stuck in your throat. Subsequently, the outside lights disappear and you're wrapped in darkness again. The lights in your room seemingly come back on and the ghost is walking back into your room. 

“Sorry about your boyfriend,” he laughs. “All those muscles didn't help much.”

“Fuck you!” you spit at him.

“Tch. Good idea.”

“What–” you're cut off by the ghost grabbing you and tossing you onto the bed like you weigh nothing. Your vision is still blurry from the tears that are now streaking down your face, but your legs still work. You kick and kick and kick at him, scratching and clawing into his arms, but to no avail, he tanks it and pushes forward. It isn’t until he straddles you and has your arms pinned above your head, that you start to accept your fate. 

The ghost lifts his mask up, ever so slightly, only to bend down and lick your tears. You twist your head away. 

“You’re sick,” you snap at him again.

“Your tears are making me so hard,” he admits. You internally wretch and avoid his gaze. Sukuna, I need you. Your thoughts go to the only thing that can ever ground you. Sukuna, please, save me. Although, it was pointless to think that after watching the horror show earlier.

He releases one of your hands, only to guide it to his hardening length under his black robes. He then glides his finger across your lips. 

“Open,” he commands.

“Make me,” you refuse, defiance all over your face.

“That can be arranged,” he laughs. Not letting his hold on you go, he grabs the knife off the bedside table. When the hell did he put that there? Was it when the lights went out? The knife slides against your cheek, then tantalizingly slowly down your neck. It hovers above your chest before it’s digging into your shirt. He pulls the knife down, slicing your top in two. But he doesn't stop there. The knife continues its venture, cutting open your bra, then your skirt and panties open.

The ghost tightens his grip on your chin, tilting your head up as the knife drags down your stomach, cold and teasing against your heated skin. Your breath hitches when the tip circles around your navel before trailing lower, stopping just above your pelvis.

“You’re so tense,” he murmurs through the voice changer, pressing the flat of the blade against your hip. “Is that fear? Or something else?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, refusing to respond. His weight pins you down, his body heavy against yours as his free hand slides up your ribs, fingers skimming over the shredded fabric of your shirt.

“Still not talking?” he chuckles, shifting his hips just enough for you to feel the hard outline of his cock pressing against your thigh. “No protests? No begging? Maybe you want this.”

“Fuck you,” you hiss, struggling against his grip.

The ghost tuts, clicking his tongue. “We’ll get there.”

He sets the knife aside, leaving it close enough for you to see its gleaming edge from the corner of your eye. His newly freed hand replaces the cold metal with the warmth of his fingers, ghosting over the curve of your waist, then lower—gripping, teasing, exploring. His touch is rough, calloused palms scraping over your soft skin, but calculated, like he’s memorized every inch of you.

It’s terrifying how well he seems to know your body.

You swallow hard, clenching your fists as his hands travel lower. 

“Oh?” he remarks as if he’s made some new discovery. “You’re wet.”

No. Impossible. You would never get wet for anyone aside from your boyfriend. Especially not this monster. He’s probably hideous under that mask.

He slaps you across the face, and you wince in pain. It stings, but you know that wasn’t at all his full strength. The ghost uses this opportunity to force his lips on yours, tilting his mask up once again. His kiss is hard, forceful, and his tongue slips through your parted lips, licking the roof.

You try to push him away with your free hand, but his hand finds its way to your throat, squeezing just hard enough to make it difficult for you to breathe. Your nails dig into his wrist, a futile attempt to make him let go.

He breaks the kiss, smirking. You can feel his breath against your lips, warm and shallow, and it makes your skin crawl.

“Now for the main event,” the ghost whispers. He reaches to remove his cloak, and as he pulls it off, his black undershirt rides up slightly, exposing a glimpse of inked skin beneath.

Your breath stutters.

Your eyes dart to his stomach, tracing the familiar dark lines curling over his abs, trailing up to his ribs– 

Tattoos.

Your stomach flips, shock crashing into you like a wave.

No. No, it can’t be.

But as he finally pulls his shirt off completely, standing over you in nothing but those dark pants and that haunting mask, the truth slams into you.

The tattoos. The scars. The physique you’ve memorized with your hands and lips a hundred times over. Your eyes go wide with surprise.

Sukuna.

Your entire body tenses beneath him as the realization hits, and the ghost tilts his head, amused by your sudden change in expression.

“What’s the matter, y/n?” he questions, rubbing his erection through his pants. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He chuckles, and your blood runs cold. You remain silent, still processing everything you’ve just seen.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is still distorted, still playful, but now you can hear it, the underlying smugness that’s so unmistakably him.

You don't reply.

You can't.

You just stare at him, unable to form any coherent thought, and he clicks his tongue in annoyance.

Sukuna removes the rest of his clothes, keeping nothing but that forsaken ghostface mask on. He then climbs on top of you, straddling your waist and pinning your hands above your head once more. His cock brushes against your stomach as he leans over you, the tip slick and glistening, and you realize how wet you are.

This is fucked.

He takes a moment to appreciate the view, his eyes raking over your body, admiring his handiwork. The remains of your clothes are scattered across the bed, barely covering you. Your hair is a mess, sticking to the sides of your face and neck, and your lips are red and swollen from his rough kisses.

Fuck, he loves seeing you like this.

He takes his cock in his hand, giving it a few lazy strokes before rubbing the head along your slit. He teases you, dragging his cock between your folds, coating himself in your slick.

With how wet you are, he doesn’t need any lube tonight.

Your breath catches in your throat as he nudges your entrance, the tip of his cock pressing against you. You squirm beneath him, trying to buck your hips away from him, but his weight pins you down, trapping you in place.

His grip on your wrists tightens, and his other hand finds its way to the knife. He raises the blade, pressing the cold metal against your throat.

"Don’t move."

You hold still, terrified of the blade.

Sukuna chuckles, and you shiver, the sound sending a chill down your spine.

He leans closer, the mask grazing your skin. “I'd hate to have to cut you.”

He presses the knife harder against your throat, enough to draw a thin line of blood. You wince, hissing through gritted teeth, and he laughs, a low, rumbling sound that reverberates through his chest.

“There's my girl.”

He eases his hold on your wrists, sliding his hand up your arm, over your shoulder, and to the base of your throat. His fingers wrap around your neck, applying gentle pressure as he guides himself inside.

His cock stretches you, filling you completely, and you cry out, arching your back.

Fuck, it hurts, but it hurts so good.

“So tight,” he groans, his voice muffled through the mask. “I'm gonna make you take it all, princess.”

Your breath comes in shallow gasps, the feeling of his cock filling you taking over your senses. You're so wet, yet his size makes you feel like you're going to rip.

His grip on your neck tightens, and he begins to thrust, fucking you with deep, deliberate strokes.

You cry out, tears streaming down your face, and he picks up the pace, the sound of his hips slapping against yours echoing throughout the room.

“So fucking good,” he growls, his voice strained. “You're such a good little slut for me.”

His words send a jolt of pleasure through you, and you bite your lip, trying to suppress the moan that's threatening to escape.

You hate how much you love this.

“Don't hold back,” he coos, his hand leaving your throat and finding its way to your clit. His fingers rub tight circles over your sensitive bud, and you let out a strangled moan, the pressure building inside you.

You can feel yourself getting close, your walls clenching around him, and his thrusts become erratic, losing their rhythm.

He leans down, his mask brushing against your cheek, and his voice is a low growl in your ear.

“I want you to come for me, princess.”

He presses the knife against your throat again, just enough to remind you of its presence, and that's all it takes to

You come hard, screaming his name, and he follows, emptying himself inside you with a grunt.

His cock pulses, filling you, and the sensation is almost enough to send you into another orgasm.

He pulls out of you slowly, a trail of his cum dripping down your thigh.

“Mm, perfect,” he sighs, running his fingers over your skin.

You lay still, trembling from the aftershocks, and he takes a moment to admire the sight before him. You're a complete mess, covered in sweat and his cum.

Your hair is tangled and your cheeks are stained with tears. Your lips are red and swollen, and the cuts on your throat are still bleeding, the crimson droplets streaking down your neck.

You're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

“I could fuck you all day,” he hums, stroking his cock, already half hard again.

He slides his fingers over your slit, collecting his cum on his fingertips.

“And I will,” he purrs, bringing his hand to his lips. He licks his fingers clean, savoring the taste of you mixed with him.

“Mm, sweet” he moans.

You shiver, and he laughs, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“You did so good for me, princess.”

He pulls his mask off and his pink hair cascades down, framing his handsome features. He tosses the mask aside, revealing his signature fanged smile.

“How'd you like my little surprise?”

“S-sukuna…”

He smirks. “Yes, baby?”

“I hate you,” you whisper. “You really scared me”

“Keheheh.” He laughs, shaking his head. “No, you don't.”

He pulls you into a sitting position, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

You can feel his breath against your skin, hot and heavy, and the sensation sends shivers down your spine.

“You did so good,” he murmurs, his voice low and raspy.

“Kuna, please...,” you beg.

“Shh, I know, baby,” he says, brushing your hair back and pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “I'll take care of you.”

“Should I show you some mercy,” he questions, whispering into your ear. Mercy. The safeword you and Sukuna had agreed upon when you first started dating. You gently shake your head and he nods. If you really wanted this to be over, you could say "mercy" or "red" and everything would stop.

His hands move to the back of your neck, and he gently massages your muscles, his fingers working their magic.

“So tense,” he teases. “Let's fix that.”

You groan, closing your eyes and letting the sensation of his touch wash over you.

You can feel his cock pressing against your thigh, already hard again.

“Such a whore,” he hums, his fingers digging into your skin. “Always ready for my cock.”

You squirm, trying to break free of his grip, but he holds you tight, his grip unrelenting.

“I'm going to fuck you again, princess,” he promises, his voice husky with desire. “I'm going to fuck you until you're screaming my name, begging me to stop.”

"Kuna!"

His fingers grip the back of your neck as he pins you down, his body heavy on top of yours.

You can feel his cock pressing against your ass, and his fingers dig into your hips, holding you in place.

“That's right,” he growls, his lips brushing against your ear. “Scream for me, baby.”

He rubs the tip of his cock up and down your wet slit. The mixture of both of your fluids being the perfect lube. He edges the angry, reddened head against your lower entrance. Once, twice, three times before he finally slams his cock into your ass, filling you completely, and you cry out, his name a broken prayer on your lips.

“Fuck, y/n,” he moans, his voice strained. “So. Fucking. Tight.” He thrusts with each word.

“It–  it hurts,” you whimper, tears stinging the corners of your eyes.

“Shh, I know, baby,” he soothes, his fingers tangling in your hair. He stops his movements in you, studying your face. “Just relax, let me take care of you.”

His grip on your neck loosens, his hand trailing down to your breast. He pinches your nipple, rolling the hardened nub between his fingers, and you moan, arching your back.

His lips brush against your cheek, feather-light kisses tracing along your jawline.

“That's it, baby,” he encourages, his voice husky with desire. “Just feel.”

He starts to move, pulling out slowly, then thrusting back in, burying himself deep inside you. You moan, your eyes rolling back, and he sets a slow, steady pace, his cock filling you completely with every stroke.

“Such a good little slut for me,” he coos, his fingers twisting in your hair. “Taking my cock like a champ.”

“K-kuna, please,” you gasp.

“Shh, I know,” he purrs, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. “Let me make you feel good, baby.”

You nod, biting back a sob. He presses his lips to yours, swallowing your cries, and his hands find their way to your breasts, his fingers squeezing and kneading the soft flesh.

You can feel the pressure building inside you, your body humming with anticipation, and you reach for him, your fingers gripping his hair as he pounds into you.

“S-sukuna, I'm–” you can barely get the words out, the feeling of his cock stretching you sending waves of pleasure through you.

“I know, princess,” he groans, his voice a low growl.

With one of his hands, he starts to vigorously rub your clit while his cock still pounds into your ass.

The feeling of his fingers on your clit and his cock filling you is too much, and you scream out, your body trembling as you come undone.

“Sukuna!” you exclaim, your legs shaking.

“Fuck, baby,” he grunts, his thrusts becoming erratic.

He leans down, his lips ghosting over yours, and he whispers, “Come for me, y/n.”

With those words, he sends you over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you. You cry out, your nails digging into his back.

“Oh, f-fuck,” he moans, his cock throbbing as he comes, filling you with his hot release.

He collapses on top of you, his body spent, and he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, pressing soft kisses along your collarbone. The tips of his pink hair tickling your face.

“Fuck, baby,” he pants, his breath ragged. “That was incredible.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, your voice hoarse. “It was.”

You both lay there, catching your breath, and enjoying the afterglow of your orgasms.

After a few minutes, he slowly pulls out, and you whimper at the loss, his cum dripping out of your ass and onto the sheets.

“I'm still mad that you scared me,” you pout into his chest. “I really thought someone had hurt you.”

“Keheheh,” he gives you his infamous laugh as a response. “Sorry, princess. It was the only way.”

You look at him, confusion written on your face, urging him to explain.

“I had Yuji throw on my clothes and sit out there,” he explains. “The brat owed me a favor, and since we’re twins, it was the perfect opportunity to trick you.”

“But, the tattoos…” you tilt your head skeptically. “How did you guys?”

“Sharpie,” he simply responds. “That’s why Gojo and I were at the store.”

You think about the plan, how intricate and well executed it was. He must have had this planned for weeks.

It was so perfectly Sukuna.

You sigh. You can't stay mad at him. Besides, it was originally your idea for him to surprise you with your mask and CNC kink. You just never imagined it would happen at the same time.

“Next time,” you warn him, pointing a finger in his face. “I'll be the one surprising you.”

“Keheheh,” his signature laugh reverberates. “I'll be looking forward to it.”

He presses his lips to yours, his kiss gentle and tender. “I love you, y/n,” he whispers. “Happy Valentine's Day.”

"I love you too, Kuna," you murmur back, closing your eyes and letting sleep claim you.

Sukuna smiles, content with his work.

“Sweet dreams, baby,” he kisses the top of your head.

It was definitely the perfect Valentine's day.

A/N y'all really should check @/sweetlandspos art out! I love her style and everything she draws is soo delicious! 🤤😫

A/N P.S. Sorry I'm late. I wanted to post this TWO WEEKS AGO for Valentine's, but I had bad writer's block and alot of irl stuff interfere. I'm gonna try to post more consistently though <3

dividers by @omi-resources & @cafekitsune

<- masterlist | jjk masterlist

[divinum-pacis]

Surf Church's pastor, the Rev. Samuel Cianelli, walks into the Atlantic Ocean to surf with his congregation in Matosinhos beach in the suburbs of Porto, Portugal on Sunday, Aug. 18, 2024. (AP Photo/Luis Andres Henao)

Surf Church was established by a Brazilian-born Portuguese surfer and ordained Baptist pastor to spread the Gospel in a once-devoutly Catholic country — and top surfing destination — where about half of young people today say they have no religion.

In less than a decade, it has grown from a few families to dozens of parishioners representing more than a dozen nationalities from across the world. Their motto: “ We love waves. We love Jesus.”

Read more

[itsthecline]

WONDERING WHY

0.0 TWO HANGOUTS WORTH

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ after your parents requested you to bring a date to midsummers , you can only think of one boy you know enough to ask. none other than jj maybank.

word count 2k

warnings christian!reader , kook!reader , and like one (?) sexual innuendo

next chapter

a/n this is a new series i’ll be coming out with now that i’m back from my hiatus:) this is just the prologue before everything gets going , but there will also be little flashbacks thrown in here and there!!!

THE WRECK. a local establishment in the outer banks that was owned by mike and anna carrera right across from the island’s surf shop. the place everyone in kildare went for the best sea food one’s heart could dream up. it was also a regular hangout for kiara , mike and anna’s daughter , and her friends— the pogues.

you didn’t know all of them too well , growing up on figure eight rather the cut. you had kind of known sarah from school , but you really knew jj maybank. he was one of kiara’s friends— a reckless kleptomaniac that grew up only ever knowing petty crimes thanks to his jailbird of a father. it wasn’t entirely his fault he held the reputation he did— you saw that.

you had met a different jj however. you knew jackson jay maybank , the cute boy that came to church with his mom every sunday , the boy you would run around with outside the church after services whenever your moms got to talking. he was your first kiss , and first boyfriend too— in the third grade.

jj maybank was the reason you were even at the wreck. you were actively seeking him out , peering around the restaurant when you stepped inside. you were so distracted by finding him , you ran into someone , knocking them off balance and causing them to drop a tray of food.

“oh , my gosh! i’m so sorry!” you apologized , bending over to help the girl pick things off the ground. you looked up at her and immediately flushed in embarrassment. of course , you would run into jj’s friend. you had finally convinced yourself to just go ask jj what you wanted , and you mess it up before even getting the chance.

“it’s fine,” kiara assured you with a soft laugh , picking scraps of lettuce of the floor and tossing it back on the tray, “at least it wasn’t oysters,” she shivered , remembering a time that did happen.

you both finished cleaning up the mess the best you could before standing up. “gosh , i’m so sorry again , kiara,” you sighed , fishing your wallet from your purse, “let me pay for ‘em.”

“no , no! don’t worry about it,” she quickly replied , pushing your hand of cash back to you, “it was just for my friends. they’ll be happier with fries anyway,” she explained to you , setting the tray down, “were you coming here to get something to eat? i can ring you up.” she moved behind the counter , and you followed despite not coming here for the food. though , the way you could smell everything mike was whipping up in the back made you think twice about it.

“no , actually i was looking for jj?” you admitted , scanning the room again , missing the way kiara’s eyebrows shot up.

“oh?”

“yeah , i just have something i wanted to ask him,” you explained with a short , polite smile. you didn’t exactly want to tell kiara all about your plans , so you kept your words to a minimum.

“okay,” the girl nodded , dusting her hands off, “they’re all out back , so i can take you to them,” she smiled , intrigued enough to want to see how this would all pan out. you nodded , accepting the courtesy before following after her. she weaved through tables , waving at a couple of guests , before pushing out to the patio.

the music changed , switching from a smoother tune to a swingier set. it was obvious someone other than mike or anna had control of the radio. your guess was kiara or maybe sarah.

she rounded the corner , spotting her friends chatting animatedly about something that had happened earlier in their chaotic day. kiara whistled once , catching their attention. “jayj , this nice girl was wanting to talk to you about something,” she announced , pointing over her shoulder at you before sitting down next to cleo and taking a sip from her smoothie.

you awkwardly waved at everyone , grateful for sarah’s familiar smile. jj perked up , not expecting to see you standing there. gosh , he hadn’t seen you in maybe three years. you never frequented the same spots as him , and he obviously didn’t hangout where you did.

somehow you looked the same— minus the baby fat. and he could , quite accurately , guess two bra sizes more than the last time you’d been face to face. you had the same style as before. girlier than all heck and not daring to show off too much. today , you settled on a simple , white skirt and a top in the sweetest shade of yellow. jj couldn’t help the way his eyes dragged down your legs , only being able to see a little snippet of them above your kitten heels. you looked just as cute as the day he’d met you. adorable.

“y/n/n y/l/n , what can i do for ya?” he chirped , pushing himself up from the wooden picnic table and marching over to you.

your hands started sweating when you realized there would suddenly be an audience for this all. “um— may i speak to you in private? please?” you asked , gripping at your skirt to wipe the sweat from your palms. your eyes adverted back to his friends— the infamous treasure hunters.

they had always intimidated you. not that they did it on purpose. no , they were all very kind during your brief and few interactions. it was more of the fact that they had lived so much ; they were so much more than regular nineteen year olds on the island. far more than you.

jj looked over his shoulder , noticing all of his friends eagerly watching and waiting. “sure , angel , we can go talk,” he nodded , gesturing for you to turn. you did , feeling his hand ghost over the small of your back. he led you towards the parking lot , stopping once you hit the gravel. “so what’s up? haven’t seen you in awhile,” he spoke casually , twirling the toothpick in between his teeth.

“midsummers is in two weeks , and my father would really like if i brought a date,” you began , straightening your back to try and come off more confident than you were. something about jj always made you want to shrivel up and hide. it was probably that smirk he was giving you. “i don’t really talk to any boys at all , and so i was hoping maybe you come with me? seeing as we know each other?” you concluded on a more sour note. you hated hearing the way your voice went up at the ends of your statements , obliterating any chances you had at seeming collected. you stared at jj , wincing almost in preparation for his rejection. it wouldn’t be the worst thing if you couldn’t get a date for midsummers , but it would be the worst thing if jj maybank laughed in your face again after all these years.

and then he chuckled , and you wanted to run away and die. you knew you shouldn’t have come here. you knew it would be a no.

“yeah , i’ll do it,” he agreed , getting you to straighten your posture again, “but i’m gonna need somethin’ out of it , ya know?”

“really? yeah! i could , like , pay you. and i’d obviously handle all of the coordination things and such,” you rushed out , ecstatic he actually said yes. you had been so worried about rejection that you hadn’t actually prepared yourself for a positive outcome.

“i mean , yeah , money’s nice , angel,” jj nodded , leaning up against one of the patron’s cars, “what about a date?” he suggested after a few moments of making you wait.

“a date?” you choked out , taking the slightest step back. the rocks beneath your feet shifted , giving away the movement. “i don’t date,” you stated , knowing he knew that about you already. everyone on the island knew.

“what? not even for old time’s sake?” jj tried , flopping his arms to his sides, “i mean , technically we’re already dating,” he defended himself , moving his finger between the two of you, “never really broke up , so…”

“jj , i’m sure our relationship from the third grade has reached its statute of limitations by now,” you huffed , crossing your arms, “besides , you laughing in my face and then continuing to ignore my existence as soon as we got to high school made sure i got the message,” you added , sounding far brattier than you ever had before.

the blonde was taken aback , not expecting you to ever throw something in someone’s face. he didn’t even realize that was something you remembered could be thrown in his face. “yeah , that was mean,” he admitted, “but this date could clear things up. you deserve to get taken out. maybe you’ll let me see your wild side,” he winked , causing your face to crinkle up.

“you’re dirty minded,” you pouted , going to turn away and forget this altercation ever even happened.

“wait!” jj moved forward , grabbing your elbow to stop you from leaving, “i didn’t mean it like that.” you tilted your head , arms still crossed. “okay , maybe i did , but it was a joke!” jj laughed , taking hold of you by the arms and shaking you a little.

you bit back a smile and rolled your eyes. “i don’t date , jj. i just need a date. for midsummers,” you explained to him with a shrug.

it’s not that the idea of a date didn’t spark something alive inside of you. it was that it did. you didn’t want to reignite the flame you once held for jj so close to your heart. he was your first crush , and that meant something to you. even at the ripe age of eight years old. he was one of your first friends , and he left you behind. that wasn’t something easy to forget. you had healed from it , sure , but you knew yourself enough not to reopen the old wound.

“then let’s not call it a date,” jj decided with a firm nod, “we’ll�� we’ll call it a hangout. you tag along with me for a day , get a taste of the pogue life. then i’ll go to the kookfest with ya.”

“a hangout?” you repeated suspiciously, “and what activities would this hangout include?”

jj let out a short breath of air , like he was coming up with the first thing that came to mind. “i don’t know? petty crime , doing drugs , drinking beers? driving on my sick bike all the while? that sound fun?”

you let out a laugh , covering your smile as you did. “sounds like an ideal hangout with the jj maybank,” you agreed with a nod.

“yeah? that’s only the first half of the day,” he continued , chuckling along with you. he could almost feel himself slipping back to a younger version of himself. back when you would hang out while your mom’s caught up after their weeks. with how his life panned out , it was easy to forget that you two had once been close friends. it felt like a life time ago. gosh , maybe even eight.

you took another step back , tapping jj’s chest with a smile. “you have yourself a deal , maybank. i’ll see you tomorrow,” you told him , digging out your keys. your bmw wasn’t waiting too far from you.

“tomorrow?” jj asked , not too sure what you could have planned with midsummers two weeks out. anything could happen in two weeks. “what rush are you in , princess?”

you stopped in your tracks , jaw agape. “jj! you don’t just put on a suit and go to midsummers. there’s things that need to be done! there’s fittings , and luncheons , and everything in between,” you explained , not completely shocked he didn’t know , but still annoyed you had to spell it out.

“wait , wait , wait—“ jj chuckled , shaking his head, “what-cheons?”

“oh , my goodness,” you sighed , pulling out your phone, “give me your number. i’ll text you everything that needs to happen in the next two weeks.”

jj took your phone , typing in his information. “i think i should be compensated with two hangouts then,” he bargained , shooting himself a text so he would have your number too.

“you are such a pain. fine,” you quickly agreed , taking back your phone, “ten a.m!” you pointed at him , moving to your car.

“jesus , woman! you’re killing me!” jj gasped , wiping a hand down his face like he was under serious duress.

“my house!” you added with a smile , getting in your car and starting her up. you waved at him through the mirror before driving away. maybe it was a good thing you convinced yourself to ask him. it’d be a nostalgic two weeks , but at least it would be fun. that much you knew.

pulling out the parking lot , you got a text message. you braked , checking to see if it was your mother , but instead saw a text from jj.

daddy j💦

see you tomorrow princess

[alittlebitofloveliness]

This might be a hot take but I’m fully convinced that if Ponyboy got injured in the church fire and died in Johnny’s place, that Johnny would still die because he’d be the member of the gang that wouldn’t be able to handle it

I used to think it would be Darry or Soda- and sure, they’d be absolutely devastated. They’d never be the same. But the Curtis boys know loss, they lost both their parents at once and not only survived but bounced back in a relatively short period of time. Losing Pony would be worse and it would take them far longer to move past it, but Soda and Darry have each other and they would survive it.

Johnny though, Johnny couldn’t.

We know what Johnny and Pony mean to one another. Whether you read them as platonic or romantic or a secret third thing there is no denying they are each others person, unquestioningly and irrevocably. We see in the book how depressed Ponyboy is after Johnny’s death, delusional and then nearly catatonic with grief, and he has his brothers and the remainder of the gang watching over him like a hawk. Their support and presence is absolutely constant for a reason, even if Ponyboy’s suicide watch is largely subtextual and glossed over in a few short paragraphs.

Johnny doesn’t have brothers. He has the gang, that are family in all but blood, but Johnny has spent his life looking out for himself. He sleeps in the lot or couch surfs because no one else is going to find a spot for him, and because his own house isn’t safe. But Johnny is depressed. Ponyboy mentions how the greaser lifestyle and his parents’ warring is ‘killing Johnny’ rather than turning him cold and mean. Ponyboy also mentions that the gang is the only thing keeping Johnny from running away from Tulsa altogether, while Johnny literally voices his suicidal thoughts to Pony in the lot. Point is, Johnny’s mental state was already precarious before the events of the novel. Had he, Pony, and Dally all lived through the story Johnny would still struggle tremendously, probably even more than before. If Pony had died Johnny probably still would not have lived to the end of the book.

Johnny is incredibly protective of Ponyboy (even if Pony doesn’t realize it). Throughout the book we see him take charge whenever Ponyboy falls to pieces, comfort him when Ponyboy is feeling embarasssed after meeting Cherry, let Pony sleep on his legs even when Pony put them to sleep and they had to jump off a train. He was ready to run away with Pony no questions asked. He buys Pony a book and cigarettes when they’re on the run and don’t have a ton of money just to make the whole thing easier for Pony mentally. He literally stabs Bob to death for Pony. So imagine what would happen if Johnny went into that church with Pony and was unable to save him?  If they were in that inferno and he saw the beam crash down and helped Dallas drag Pony’s limp body out and it still wasn’t enough? What do you think happens to an already seriously depressed kid when his person- the one person who always understood him without him having to say a word, a boy who was so naive, yet so wise and so desperately kind- dies? What do you think happens when Johnny can’t save the one person he desperately wanted to protect?

It’s simple. Johnny pulls a Dally, and Johnny dies. And then Dally dies too, because he can’t live without Johnny (if it had JUST been Pony who died, Dallas would survive. Dallas cared about Pony- I firmly believe that, but Pony’s death would not affect Dally the same way Johnny’s did. It wouldn’t affect him any LESS but it would affect him DIFFERENTLY- and would not result in his suicide for a myriad of reasons that deserve a whole post of their own.)

But yeah. Had Pony died from the church fire I think Johnny would have died too, and The Outsiders would end with four dead kids instead of three. It is a horrible, inevitable, preventable tragedy, and no matter what variable is changed it will always be a horrible, inevitable, preventable tragedy.

[bluemerakis]

@handkinkbis you are genuinely insane 😭🙏 you come onto a post that has NOTHING to do with you—ATTACKING the OG poster while you try to push your narrative onto content that has NOTHING to do with it. and after being told NUMEROUS times to move the FUCK on, you insist on staying and resorting to feeble fucking insults that try and villainise US? you’re talking for the sake of talking while not having a single FUCKING clue about what any of the words you’re using means.

and then you come for my fucking neck with a post like this instead of messaging me if you really had something to say? you’re bold for acting the fucking dick behind your screen after YOU started an unnecessary argument. and ouch, i’m so wounded that you resorted to calling me both misogynistic and a bigot all because i’m calling you out on your erratic fucking behaviour. i’m neither one of those things and for you to stoop to the level of an uneducated, impulsive MAN with these insults is actually stupidly ironic.

if you’re so easily offended by a post thirsting over a FICTIONAL MAN and modern day humour, stay off tumblr. or at the very least, stay off the side of tumblr that’s CLEARLY marked as fiction. you’re going around looking for fights by surfing a tag that you apparently hold so much distaste for. this app ain’t your fucking church, so stop trying to preach to the masses like you’ve got an ounce of valuable shit to say.

go touch some grass and keep my blog out of your fucking mouth.

edit: telling me to enjoy my next KKK meeting when i’m a person of colour is an INSANE thing to say 😄 i hope you find some peace in your deeply disturbing life. you’re doing nobody good by coming onto tumblr and aggressively harassing everybody about politics under literal thirst posts for shits and giggles. and to blatantly start calling ppl all sorts of insults and deciding FOR them that they’re not feminists—or at the very least RESPECT women—is crazy. get a life and stop harassing others. 🙏

edit 2: also repeatedly commenting that i called you and other women a wh*re and cunt when i did no such thing 😭 don’t make me pull out the evidence of my comments. i called you a HOE bc HOE IS YOU CRAZY?? another beautiful internet joke that apparently doesn’t wander into your side of the wacko world. don’t try to make me look like i’m the twat by saying that i generalised theoretical women into being whores and cunts when i didn’t say any of that. i called YOU a bitch because you are a colossal bitch. you own the fucking term. good night

[psformybss]

Is Drew Starkey Married?

warnings: soft launch energy, cryptic answers with feeling, behind the scenes teasing, cast chaos, drew being lowkey whipped

an: someone mentioned in the comments i should do this and i fell in love with the idea. i tried finding an actual interview from season 2 to base it on but i couldn’t find anything that worked so i wrote my own interview

︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

“Rolling in three… two…”

A red light blinked on above the camera lens. The WIRED crew gave a thumbs up from behind the monitor. Seven chairs lined up in two messy rows, bright white set all around them, the Outer Banks cast looking like a group of overgrown high schoolers on picture day.

Chase was half-slouched in his seat. JD kept bouncing his knee. Carlicia wore sunglasses indoors just because she could. Madison fluffed her hair for the fourth time while Rudy mimed finger guns at the camera, and Drew—well, Drew sat quietly near the middle, fingers laced loosely in his lap, lips twitching at the corners every time someone cracked a joke.

“I already know this is gonna go off the rails,” Rudy mumbled.

“Oh, 100%,” Madelyn grinned. “Let’s go.”

On Screen Text: WIRED Autocomplete Interview: OBX Cast Edition

Madison reached for the first question board and dramatically peeled off a strip.

“Is Outer Banks based on a true story?”

“Nope,” Chase said easily, leaning toward the mic. “But if there’s buried treasure off the coast of North Carolina, I’m listening.”

“There is a JD-shaped hole in my wall from when he thought he found gold one time,” Rudy added.

“That was a banana,” JD said, deadpan.

The board peeled down again.

“Can Carlicia Grant actually do her own stunts?”

“Hell yeah, I can,” she said, sitting up straighter.

“Define ‘stunt,’” Madelyn teased. “Because getting wine drunk and jumping into the pool in full glam doesn’t count.”

“Says you,” Carlicia shot back. “That was art.”

More laughter. Someone behind the camera snorted.

They rolled through a dozen more—everything from “Does Chase Stokes surf in real life?” to “How tall is Rudy Pankow?” (answer: “Tall enough to block everyone’s light,” Madison claimed) until Drew’s name finally came up on the next card.

“Is Drew Starkey married?”

JD let out a long whistle. Carlicia’s sunglasses dropped just slightly down her nose.

“Oh, damn,” Chase muttered with a grin.

Drew glanced sideways, slow and exaggerated, like he was trying to calculate how many seconds he had before this blew up in his face. He scratched the back of his neck. His smile was crooked and deliberate.

“Well…” he began, dragging it out like a man walking a tightrope. “I mean…”

He trailed off. Smiled down at the board like maybe it’d answer for him. Then he looked up, voice low but steady.

“I mean… I’m very happy. That’s all I’m gonna say.”

Madison clasped her hands dramatically. “A cryptic king.”

“Moving on!” Drew announced, leaning forward and yanking the next strip off the board with mock urgency.

“Who is the girl in the paparazzi pictures with Drew Starkey?”

Silence.

Then: “Oh, that’s the one,” JD whispered, leaning toward Chase like he was in church and trying not to laugh.

Drew blinked. “You guys seriously submitted this?”

“No, the internet did,” Rudy corrected. “This is what happens when you look hot and mysterious in dim lighting, bro.”

Carlicia perked up. “I saw those pics. Streetlamp lighting. Big truck. Big kiss.”

Madelyn gasped. “The kiss pic! You’re the ‘mystery couple’ on Twitter.”

“I hate all of you,” Drew muttered, hiding behind the question board like it could shield him from the blush rising at the back of his neck.

“So?” Madison prompted, eyes sparkling. “Are you gonna spill?”

Drew sat back, a little quieter now, his voice lower and softer. “Look… that moment—wasn’t meant for anyone but us. So, no names. But yeah… she’s real. She’s important. And she makes me happy.”

There was a beat of quiet, something unspoken settling in the space between them.

Then Carlicia ruined it with a loud sniffle. “Why am I tearing up? Damn you, Starkey.”

“Get him outta here,” JD said, waving a hand. “Too wholesome.”

Cut to Behind the Scenes – 30 Minutes Later

The cameras were off. Lights dimmed. Someone from the crew offered them Red Bulls and mini muffins like it was a post-game locker room.

Drew tugged off his mic and leaned back in his chair, rolling his neck until it popped. “Jesus.”

Carlicia dropped into the chair beside him, sunglasses now perched on top of her head. “You realize you are gonna send the internet into a tailspin, right?”

Drew groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. “I said nothing.”

“You said everything,” Madison corrected, flopping down across from him with a dramatic sigh. “You said, I’m happy, and you might as well have dropped a wedding registry.”

“Y’all are the worst,” Drew muttered, reaching for a water bottle.

“No no no,” Rudy said, leaning against the table. “Let’s talk about the kiss pic, actually. Because I remember that night. You and Y/N were all, ‘We’re heading out, see you guys later!’ And then boom. Streetlamp lighting. Quick kiss. Camera click. Internet meltdown.”

Drew paused mid-sip of his water.

“…You were actually just going home?” Chase asked, eyebrows raised.

Drew lowered the bottle slowly. “Yes. That’s exactly what we were doing.”

“Sure,” JD said with a grin, clearly not buying it. “And the photographer just happened to be parked on the same block at the exact right time.”

Drew shrugged. “Guess we’re lucky like that.”

Madison snorted. “Lucky is one word for it.”

Behind them, Madelyn was already digging into her phone. “I’m making a prediction right now: that moment in the interview goes viral. The ‘She makes me happy’ part? That’s about to be a whole fan edit.”

“She’s gonna see it,” Madison grinned.

“She watches all of these,” Drew admitted, a little softer now, like the thought settled on him mid-sentence. “Even the press junkets. She’ll text me something dumb like, ‘You blinked weird when JD said banana.’”

They all laughed, but it stuck with him a second longer. That familiar warmth creeping in, quiet and deep. Because she would watch it when it dropped. Curled up in bed probably, or sitting on their back porch, wearing one of his shirts with her legs pulled up to her chest, watching the way he smiled at things and remembering how he looked the night those pictures were taken.

Madelyn snapped a quick photo of him staring off. “That’s going on the group chat. Caption: ‘When you realize your wife is absolutely gonna call you out for soft-launching her again.’”

He smiled, thumb brushing the edge of his wedding ring, hidden just beneath his sleeve.

“She’s not gonna call me out,” he said eventually.

“She’s not?” Carlicia asked.

Drew shrugged. “Nah. She’ll just send a heart.”

Madison fake-swooned. “I hate you. I hate how soft that was.”

“Get a room,” JD said.

The teasing faded into chatter about lunch plans and hotel checkouts, but Drew sat there a second longer, already imagining her text when the video went live. Not a question. Not a comment.

Just a single heart.

And that would be enough.

Mystery girl, his ass.

She was his home.

And the rest of the world could keep guessing.

[emmedoesntdomath]

to add some lightness to my feed- top gun things! yay gay pilots!!

jake and bradley are both nfl guys. perhaps a dabble in the mlb, a glance at college sports- but the nfl, istg. jake obviously roots for the cowboys, sorry not sorry. bradley roots for the raiders. there is no explanation for this, but it’s right in my SOUL

(as an add on to the previous: have they gotten into fist fights over heated nfl debates? possibly. perchance. do they both agree that the patriots are the worst team in the league? oh, 100%. the chiefs are a very, very close second.)

pete watches the mlb, and the mlb exclusively. don’t come for me here. someone once tried to convert him to basketball in college, and then he got kicked out of the game for getting drunk and attempting to crowd-surf. baseball is the best option here for everyone.

bradley is addicted to coffee in the way that he could quit drinking it and would be fine, but would miss his mugs too much. he has a collection. it takes up an entire cabinet. once, when jake was really angry, he threatened one of the mugs. he then proceeded to sleep on the couch for the next two nights.

ice is the bitch in the front of class with the obscene highlighter collection. you know the one I’m talking about. it is crisp, it is color-coded, it is beautiful. no questions at this time.

jake is unable to call ice anything but sir. no, it is not a rule. no, he does not have any problems with mav. there’s just something specific about the way that ice gives him an unimpressed look that makes the word ‘tom’ just. freeze. in his mouth. bradley thinks it’s the funniest fucking shit.

goose was born and raised catholic. he still goes to church on days of holy obligation, but not much other than that. still, there is a worn bible in the top drawer of his dresser, and a rosary in the glove box of his car. it’s not a thing.

ice is jewish. end sentence.

🫡

[sadclowncentral]

feeling like you've been 26 for 3 years now

dude it's only been a little more than half a year but what a half a year it has been...i moved to another country fell in love got two new jobs met such important people loved and grieved and laughed and cried and saw the world and visited eleven countries and locked myself in a room and went outside again shook very important hands and felt nothing beheld insignificance and felt everything. moved twice. got familiar with a whole new city. had a croissant for the first time. kissed someone in the acropolis. sang in front of a room full of diplomats. sailing raced in croatia with a crew i met that day. snuck onto a container ship with an olympian. learned how to climb. understood love while looking at the northern sea. went to a champagne tasting. touched a satellite. ran my first 10k. threw a party in a church basement. got in trouble in the NATO headquarters. drew many many paintings. wrote twelve exams. was honest about myself. learned how to surf in a kayak. got invited to a secret society. got my heart broken in paris. felt so so lucky to be alive. and the year is only half over...