#internet security best practices

[zentarablog]

10 Common Cyber Threats and How to Avoid Them

In our increasingly connected world, cybersecurity is no longer just a concern for large corporations; it’s a fundamental aspect of daily life for individuals, families, and small businesses alike. The convenience of online banking, shopping, and social networking comes with the inherent risk of cyber threats, which are constantly evolving in sophistication and frequency. Cybercriminals are…

[dealnewstoday-blog]

Cybersecurity and Cybersecurity Best Practices: Safeguarding Digital Frontiers

Read more

[astars-things]

Drive with Y/n and Lando...

lando norris x quadrant athlete reader

Summary- where you and Lando do a quadrant video, where you drive around and he asks you questions that fans sent in, talk about your relationship

------

Landos' camera guy, Ash, mounted the camera onto the dashboard, making sure it was secure and recording before giving us a thumbs up. One of the Quadrant admins put out a post on Twitter asking what quadrant athlete and or general video fans would like to see, and the most requested one was that you and Lando do a 'drive with me' type video, but the twist was that they wanted you to drive, so here you were sitting in the drivers seat of your Nissan G-T r35 (you can change the car if you want) with Lando in the passenger seat. 

You had the Quadrant admins post an Instagram story and a Twitter post for people to send in their burning questions. You and Lando both picked out 10 of your favorites and got the team to put them on cards for Lando to read out. "I swear," you mutter, buckling your seatbelt and starting the car, "if you pick anything weird, I’m kicking you out. I mean it, Norris."

"You wouldn’t dare," he grins, stretching out like he’s on a beach somewhere. "I’m your emotional support passenger." You gave him an eye roll. You put the car into drive and made your way out of your street, so nobody could figure out where you lived from the video. "Quit touching things", you muttered as you wacked Landos' hand away from your phone as he kept pressing shuffle on your playlist. He let out a huff before dropping your phone back into the cup holder 

Giving Lando a quick glance you mutter "Start the Q&A before you break something." as you flick your turn signal and ease the car into a nearby parking lot so you could do the intro together. The editors were going to have a field day with trying to edit this chaotic mess

You pulled into a car park to film the intro of video 

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to the best Quadrant video you’ll see this month. Possibly ever," he announces, dramatically looking over to you before continuing  "Today we’re in the car with quadrant athlete and my girlfriend Y/N. She’s driving and I’m fearing for my life." you let out a loud sigh "Ignore my very dramatic boyfriend, I'm stepping aside from flipping dirt bikes to be here with you today" you said eyes flicking to the camera with a practiced smirk. "So you better appreciate the sacrifice."

"Sacrifice?"Lando repeats, feigning offense. "Anyways moving on. We asked you guys to send in questions on Instagram and Twitter, and we’ve picked our favorites. I’m driving because you lot demanded chaos and Lando is reading the questions." 

"And making sure we don’t die," he adds. You hit him gently on his bicep when he tightened his seatbelt for dramatic effect "Okay you ready love" Lando cooed grabbing his cards from the floor of you car, you nodded back pulling the car out of the carpark "Okay first question coming from @.PitStopQueen Who takes longer to get ready in the morning?" Lando read out and with no hesitation you called out "Lando"

"Excuse me?" he says, eyes wide. "Don’t lie to the internet," you say calmly, changing lanes with one hand on the wheel. "You spend at least twenty minutes just fixing your hair." "That’s called personal grooming," he argued, waving one hand toward the dashboard camera. "Some of us care about looking presentable." 

You raised an eyebrow. Making Lando second guess what he just said Lando just shook his head and held up the next card. "From @.Y/nLandoshipper How do you guys handle long distance?" You let out a soft breath, glancing at him to see if he wanted to answer or for you too, Lando gave you a nod silently saying you can answer 

"Its not easy, let me just say, there are somedays where its tougher than most but it makes us value the time we do get to spend together" You said trying not to let tears out as you think of times when you needed Lando and he was on the other side of the world, Lando put his hand on your thigh gently rubbing it to give you comfort 

"Lots of FaceTime calls," Lando added. "And spontaneous visits. I flew to your last event even though I had to be back the next day." you let out a little laugh remembering that day  "You were only there for like twelve hours." "Best twelve hours of my life," he said with a wink.

You smiled despite yourself. "We’re lucky we understand each other’s schedules. I think that’s the key." Lando let out a hum agreeing to your statement, Lando held up the next card, reading dramatically "From @.CircusFan Lando what is the coolest trick you have seen Y/n preform?" 

He let the question hang in the air for a second, glancing over at you with a grin that said he already had an answer locked and loaded. "Oh, that’s easy," he said, looking straight into the dash-mounted camera. "It was that backflip thing you did, off the mega ramp, in Vegas, I think? And then you let go mid-air and somehow landed it like it was nothing."

You smirked, eyes still on the road. "Superman seat grab backflip."  "You were just casually flying through the air like gravity was optional. I’ve never screamed so loudly watching a live stream. I called you right after, didn’t I?" Lando exclaimed, still clearly amazed by it. 

You nodded, laughing at the memory. "You were more breathless than I was." Lando turned back to the camera with a pointed look. After a couple of more questions it was time to answer the last one, Lando looked over at you, grin already tugging at the corner of his lips as he read the final card.  "Okay last question is from @.GridGossip How did you two meet" 

You groaned softly, your face already warming. "you picked this one didn't you"  Lando gave you his classic not so innocent face "Maybe" Lando said, practically vibrating in the passenger seat with excitement. "You said you not lie to the internet, remember?"

You gave him a look. "yeah but I didn't really want to expose myself to much today" Lando let out a little laugh "c'mon its a cute story" You sighed, knowing there was no way of getting out of this "Fine, we met on raya. Happy now?" You groaned not really ready for the comments you were going to receive from this, you pulled into a car park quite ready to end this video and go home to hide away,  

"At the same time," Lando insisted, pointing between the two of you. "Let’s do it properly. On three." You rolled your eyes, but held up three fingers with him. "One, two, three" "Raya," you both said, in perfect sync. Then came the laughter. Easy, familiar, the kind that felt like home.

You both interlocked hands "Okay thank you everyone for watching todays video, I'm going to go get y/n ice cream for making her answer that last question, thank you to everyone who sent in questions." You laugh, leaning in toward the camera. "If you want a part two where Lando drives and I cling to the door handle for dear life, like, comment, subscribe, all the YouTube things." 

"bye" you both said waving at the camera 

@.User This was pure chaotic gold. Y/N's so calm behind the wheel and Lando's just... there for vibes 😂 

@.User2 The thigh grab when she talked about long distance??? They're so in love it physically hurts me 

@.User3 they're giving chaotic domestic energy and i'm eating it UP.

@.User4 Thank you for feeding us with (yourship name) content

*Photo is from pinterest- however, I made the YouTube bit

please reblog, like and comment 🫶

[crushfin]

Threads Privacy and Security: Safeguarding Your Online Presence

In the age of social media, privacy and security have become paramount concerns for users. Meta Platforms’ Threads understands the importance of protecting users’ online presence and prioritizes privacy and security features. In this article, we will explore how Threads safeguards your online presence, empowering users to engage in microblogging while maintaining control over their personal…

[dollyswishingwell]

throws s coin in da wishing well.. heheh… I WISSH.. WISSSHHHHH.. lads boys with a reader whos in an idol group? bouncing up all over the stage in cute outfits and singing happily as the crowd cheers.. bonus points if they didn’t know because they arent in the idol scene lol :D

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ J-pop

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ fluff, i tried my best yall, i did this with a jpop idol in mind, i do have requests for kpop so that’ll be soon

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ The boys with a J-pop idol reader

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

OH he knew.

He knew before you did. Idol? Popstar? Baby girl bouncing in glitter heels on a glowing stage? He manifested that.

He’s already drawn 500 fanart illustrations of you. Runs a secret art blog under a pseudonym where he lovingly analyzes your costume designs.

One time, he came to your show in full glam with a fanlight, headband, and face stickers. He cried during your solo stage. Security tried to remove him. He said “I am the husband. I am not leaving.”

“LOOK at her!! She did the little hip pop!! She winked!! She is divine!!!”

He brings you flowers after every concert. Sneaks into dressing rooms. Tells your makeup team how to contour your blush better. Demands your new solo be titled “Princess of My Heart (Rafayel’s Cutie Edition).”

One time he went ballistic on a gossip site that said your vocals were “okay but not strong” and started an internet war that trended #1 for three days.

“SHE’S AN ANGEL. SAY IT. SAY IT LOUDER.”

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

He had no clue. Thought you worked in “the music industry” in like… an admin or assistant role. You did mention late-night practices and costume fittings, but he just assumed you were some kind of production manager.

So when a patient’s daughter is watching a performance on her tablet and he glances over during rounds only to see YOU, glitter-streaked and bouncing around in thigh-highs and a pink puff mini dress—

“…What.”

He does not blink for a full ten seconds.

“Is that, excuse me. Pause that. Rewind. What’s the name of that group?”

He goes into full private investigator mode. Comes home that night stone-faced. You’re like “hi honey!!” and he deadpans:

“You. On the stage. The sparkles. The outfit. Was that… you?”

He is so betrayed and confused but also deeply stunned that you’re that girl. The crowd chanting your name. The fan cams. The high ponytail whip. You.

You catch him watching a 12-minute fancam of you performing “Honey Prism Jetstar” while cross-referencing your tour dates with your “practice nights.”

He’s not mad. He’s just flustered. And now… a little obsessed.

“So when you told me you ‘had rehearsals’… you were actually preparing to drop-kick into a glitter cannon in front of 20,000 people. Hm. Good to know.”

He won’t tell you this, but he bought all your merch the next day.

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

He actually does know what idols are… just not this kind. He thought you were doing “celestial melody offerings” or “aether-channeling dances.”

So when he catches you live on a massive city billboard in a hyper-cute outfit with bubble fonts that say “CATCH THE SPARK!! TOUR STARTS NOW!!” he just stares blankly at the screen for a full minute.

“…That is not spiritual dancewear.”

Suddenly he’s like an alien studying Earth pop culture. He sits down with a furrowed brow and watches every single one of your performances, slowly realizing this is not some divine ritual, this is an industry. A very sparkly one.

“I saw you do three mid-air jumps, three spins, and wink at the crowd. Did you… train for combat? Or was that purely to be adorable?”

He becomes your weirdest, most affectionate hype man. Has no idea what’s going on but claps every time you twirl. Thinks your bunny-ear hoodie is a “symbol of power.”

Insists on walking you to practice like some bodyguard husband.

“If anyone touches you backstage, I will vaporize them.”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

You once said you were in “entertainment.” He assumed you meant like… background investor or studio executive.

Until one of his underlings nervously drops a report file with your idol trading card sticking out of it.

“…What the hell is this.”

Cue Sylus stopping the entire meeting and storming off to his office, pulling up every video, clip, and fan page. There you are, smiling so sweetly, throwing heart signs. You even winked into the camera. His girl. Acting all sweet and innocent on a Jumbotron.

He. Is. Shocked.

“You’ve been out there singing songs about ‘candy rainbows’ while I’m out here managing arms deals? In what world?!”

Cue instant ownership mode. He shows up to your concert in an all-black suit and dark shades like some VIP villain boss backstage. Refuses to sit in the crowd.

You run off stage, breathless and giddy, and he just crosses his arms, unimpressed:

“You forgot to tell me you were famous. I don’t like surprises.”

But you catch him replaying your slow-motion twirl like 37 times and smiling to himself.

He now owns your entire photocard collection in a gold-edged binder.

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

He doesn’t have social media. Doesn’t follow trends. Just thought you liked “dancing and working out with friends.”

One day, your face gets projected 300ft tall onto the Skyhaven Tower to advertise your upcoming world tour. He happens to be inside the building. Mid-meeting. Sees you spinning with a sparkling mic and doing that adorable little “chu~” pose.

“…Excuse me.”

He walks out of his own briefing.

Finds your official channel. Watches every performance in dead silence.

The next time he sees you, he doesn’t say anything for a full minute. Just stands there, arms crossed, giving you this intense look.

“That crowd… was cheering your name. Are they always that loud?”

He starts accompanying you to every live event with a straight face. Secretly terrifying your manager. Wears his uniform. Refuses to sit unless he can be front row.

If a fan so much as yells too loud, he tenses.

“Why are they yelling. That’s too close.”

At home he’s soft about it. You’re bouncing around in your costume and he just tugs you onto his lap.

“You looked cute, pips. You always do.”

[cellophanejpeg]

hold me down (and make me scream) | s. hanta

s: Sero wants to explore his quirk in bed. Or: the one he convices you to let him tied you up and use you however he wants.

w: bondage, kinky shit, use of vibrators, overstimulation, smut, sero is the king of aftercare, this is my kinkiest yet lol

n: hehe, tape quirk comes in handy. betaread by @jemifis ❤️ read on ao3

previous | next | start here

There's a package waiting for you on your door when you get home. Usually, you'd be suspicious of something like that. Being a well-known pro-hero has its disadvantages, such as people who don't like you and that would do anything so you disappear. However, it intrigues you.

The box has your name and your address on it, and it's from Amazon. You try to remember if you ordered something and forgot about it, but nothing comes to mind. You quickly pick it up, enter your apartment and go to the kitchen to get some scissors to open it up.

There's another box inside, covered in silver wrapping, the standard Amazon one. So someone bought you a gift from the site. Not a big deal. Impatient, you tear the paper and quickly open the box.

The contents of the box make your eyes widen in shock, a gasp leaving your lips as you cover your mouth in disbelief. Inside, there are several different vibrators of assorted colors and types. Your first thought is that some internet troll had pulled a prank on you, but then again, how did they get your personal address? Fanmail and letters are always sent to the hero agency you work at – not that you get many, anyway.

A card in the box catches your eye and, curious, you flip it over to read it:

Remember your promise, angel. – S.

Immediately, you grab your phone and look for Sero’s contact.

“Hey, angel–” he picks up after three rings.

“Hanta, what the fuck?!” you interrupt him, and he just laughs. You can practically picture his stupid grin as the sound comes through the receiver.

“So you got my little gift.”

“Little is an understatement.”

He scoffs, “Just thought we could have some fun tonight. You, me, some toys, and…”

“And?”

“Some tape.”

You pause, and Sero can practically hear the gears turning inside your head.

Truth is, he never actually thought about tape bondage until he was guts deep inside you, making you promise you'd let him do it. And he wasn't going to insist on the subject, but the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to try it. This agreement between you and him has only been about you – with the exception of that one time you went down on him –, so is it wrong for him to have a little fun?

“You mean…?” You trail off, unable to even voice it.

“Yeah.” You can hear him breathe out through the receiver. He really wants this, doesn't he?

You've never given it any thought, but the image of you tied up as he does whatever he wants with you… It kinda turns you on. Knowing he'd never hurt you, you don't see why not.

Sensing your hesitation, Sero speaks before you can answer,

“Why don't you test some toys first? Then let me know.”

“A-alright,” you reply, after another moment of silence.

“You should try the rose one. Mina said it was the best one.”

“You told Mina Ashido about this?!”

“Relax!” He laughs. “I just asked about some toys, didn't mention you at all.”

“Gosh, you're so embarrassing.” You roll your eyes, but also laugh with him.

…

“Is it too tight?” Sero murmurs in your ear as he wipes a drop of sweat from your forehead.

You’re laying down on the bed, legs spread wide, and ankles tied to your thighs, while your hands are secured together on the bedpost above you. You feel so vulnerable, so helpless, and it turns you on how he’s the only one who sees you like this.

“Hanta…” you whine, sweat dripping down your temples.

Turns out Sero was right – not that you’ll ever admit it to him –, the toys were amazing. It didn’t take long for you to agree to his proposal, but you did make him work for it. You were already convinced when he tried to talk you into it, showing positions you’d might like and ways to make you come while tied up. When you said yes, he let you choose the position you liked the most and that’s where you are right now.

The tape digs a little on your skin, but it doesn’t hurt as much as being denied yet another orgasm. You think your best friend is a little sadist, with the way he presses the vibrator with just enough pressure to drive you crazy. He also knows you a little too well, now that you think about it. You don’t even have to tell him you’re about to come, he just knows. He just won't let you.

“Yes, Angel?” he grins maliciously, swiping his thumb on your sensitive clit. You whimper, closing your eyes and throwing your head back on the pillow.

“Please…”

“Please what, baby?” Sero pushes two fingers inside you. You're so wet that they slide in easily, making embarrassing sounds.

“Please,” you whine again, breathing heavily.

“Use your words.” He teases, pressing the vibrator against you again. You groan, toes curling tightly, hands closed in fists so tight you almost draw blood from the palms of your hands.

It just feels so good when he's curling his fingers inside you, hitting that spot you'd never thought it was reachable with just his fingers. And when the vibrator puts pressure on your clit, it's heaven.

If only he'd let you have your orgasm.

“Please let me come,” you finally plead, once he denies you again, “please, please, please let me come, Hanta, I'd do anything!”

Sero laughs, pulling his fingers out of you and setting the vibrator’s intensity up, 

“What's our safe word again?” He asks, taking his time to walk around the bed until he lies beside you, leaning his head on his hand, supported by his elbow.

“T-tape dispenser.”

“Good girl.”

Sero then presses the toy once more against your clit, applying more pressure this time. A moan escapes your lips as your legs tremble; you feel another orgasm building in your lower stomach, but this time, Sero doesn't immediately remove the vibrator from you. He lets you come, watching as you roll your eyes back, and let you an almost guttural whine.

You don't come off your high, because he pressed the toy even further against you, having you twitch and tremble as yet another orgasm rushes through you, with no warning.

“H-Hanta–” you try to speak, but the way the vibrations send sparkles throughout your entire body has you losing your breath.

“You wanted to cum, didn't you?” he says, leaning towards you to lick a stray tear that slips down your temple. Then, he whispers in your ear, “use the safe word, if it's too much.”

You think you black out for a second between your third and forth orgasm, the safe word on the tip of your tongue, but you endure it. You want to believe you can take it, but the tears streaming down your face tell otherwise.

“Can you take one more, angel?” Sero coos in your ear, using his free hand to pet your head. You nod as you feel another wave of pleasure building inside you.

It takes everything in you to hold it in, but you eventually let go and then everything goes black for a moment.

“You okay?” he asks, turning the vibrator off and using the nail of his index finger to rip the tape bonding your hands.

You murmur something even you don’t understand while Sero grabs a bottle of massage oil to remove the tapes off you. Maybe you black out, because next thing you know, you’re being carried in his arms and gently being lowered down to a bathtub filled with warm water. You hum, leaning your back on his chest when he slips in the tub behind you.

For a moment, you both soak in silence. Sero hugs your torso, rubbing his thumbs on the skin of your waist, and leans his chin on your shoulder, nuzzling his nose on your hair. Slowly, you come down from your high and recover your senses.

“I don’t think I’ll ever come again,” you break the silence, making him laugh.

“Only one way to find out.” He slips his hand down, with the intention of touching your clit again, but you slap him away.

“Not right now!” You cry out, as he laughs louder.

“How did you like it?”

“It was fun. Maybe a bit too much,” you admit, “but I liked it.”

“Next time, don’t be afraid to use the safe word.”

You pull away to look at him, “you seem oddly experienced at this.”

Sero gives you one of his shit eating grins, but you can see a faint shade of pink on his cheekbones. “I did my homework.”

You hum, leaning onto him again and sighing. The silence takes over again and with it comes the overthinking.

“We’re still friends, right?” You say, before you can stop yourself.

“Why wouldn’t we be?” His voice sounds sleepy now.

You shrug. “‘Cause we’re doing all this crazy shit.”

“We can have sex and still be friends, right?”

Can you? Can you keep doing this knowing he doesn’t feel the same as you? Is it really just sex when every time you’re with him, you feel like heaven?

“Yeah, sure,” you reply, swallowing down all these questions.

Because you don’t think you’ll like the answers.

@lousypotatoes @ibby-miyoshi-nerd

[accio-victuuri]

i’m not really the one to ask with this kind of cpn. never was. i can only hear it when it’s very clear. apparently, there was a video shared from inside of the zhuhai race last year ( october ). as you can see, it’s really close. directly behind yibo. some are saying you can here one person saying “xiao zhan” and then “zhan ge instructed?” / “zhan ge instructed us”. i vaguely hear ‘zhan ge’ tho. or am i hallucinating? lol. unless there is a person there who is also called zhan ge — then i don’t know who else they could be talking about. ⬇️⬇️⬇️

there have been some clues coming up from last year that xz was there. and fans are discussing how yanyan seemed to be extra protective of yibo ( video below in GIF form ) and making sure that there was no one filming there that wasn’t supposed to. tho i have to say that it’s usual for yanyan and lele to do this — protecting yibo’s privacy. yibo also had an rv of sorts that is connected to a tent. so it seems like if xz was there, then he could go ahead and have his own space to watch the race.

some are pointing out how happy yibo was that day. why wouldn’t he tho? he loves racing and he won. but i admit there was also something extra. this guy was allegedly sleeping 3 hours a day because he wanted to practice but he still had the energy. that’s the yibo we know — and i think if you add xz in the mix, he would be more motivated. he even posted hearts and tagged the people in the race.

i don’t know. something about xz being close to his racing family makes me happy. it’s v important to yibo and he will make time for him. especially for his first race. 🫶🏼 and knowing they can have that small group who accepts them, no pretentious celebrities in the mix is a good thing.

and this one too, lele was taking a video of a fan who allegedly was holding something bjyx related. xiao hei ( a new staff of ybo who also acts his security and assistant ) also seems to be saying xiao zhan. i’m imagining him telling lele, look — someone is displaying a photo of our other boss xz. then lele goes ahead and films it to show later lol.

personally, what i think ties this all together is that cpn of the intro track in xz’s album having the sound of people in the race event.

as for the OP, this is a very late post. the initial confusion was around fans thinking this was the recent one but they realized it was last year and OP confirmed it too. they were asked if it was staff or a fan who mentioned xz, they said there were no “fans” in that space. there was also someone asking for more in the comments, like if wyb spoke after that, OP just said: This is the limit of the limit, I can’t post it anymore, let’s protect it.

i can’t validate OP. we all know that people on the internet cannot be trusted completely. however, this reminds me of how fansites did their best to protect the boys when unofficial bts content were released. they would blur things out, cut certain parts etc so as not to get them in trouble. not only that, we have our own ways of protecting them because that is the most important 💛💛💛

i’m adding other zhuhai related cpns fans are bringing up: xz’s IP being close to zhuhai & that time when a person said he saw XZ in zhuhai when wyb was racing

source

[thoughtssvt]

trying to match the jjk men's eating pace

that one tiktok trend where you try to match the pace your partner eats bite for bite

featuring gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji

g. satoru

Satoru was actually shocked when you told him you were going to get as many burgers as he was, joking that he was going to have to finish your leftovers (not that he minded). everything was going smooth as he calmly unwrapped the first burger, taking a bite that didn't seem to under or over fill his mouth, giving you a false sense of security as you chewed your food like normal. panic began to set in by his third bite, practiced hands picking up a pinch of fries to add to the bite he was working on.

you weren't sure if his bites were getting bigger or if he was starting to chew faster, but before you knew it your cheeks were full and he was already crumpling the wrapper to start his second burger, taking a casual sip from his soft drink.

it was laughable, honestly, the way you were still holding half your burger, cheeks almost painfully full, sauce extending your smile, unable to match his sip of burger-filled mouth as you tried your best to hold in your laughter. satoru none the wiser. effectively making you choke on a crumb that had you keeled over, shoulders jumping with your silent chuckles.

"woah, baby. baby, slow down." His voice full of concern, unwrapping his third burger before patting your back in attempt to clear your throat.

g. suguru

suguru always savored his food no matter what it was or how many times he's eaten it. it was great, you were glad he found solace in food considering the toll his curse technique had on his body and his relationship with food. you'd never ask him to change it, but now that you've decided to partake in this silly internet challenge the rumble of your stomach has given you some regrets.

all you wanted to do was dig in, salivating at your steaming bowl of ramen. suguru sitting in front of you, a soft smile on his face as he carefully crafted a smaller ramen bowl in his soup spoon. chopsticks steady and meticulous as he let two noodles coil onto the spoon, dipping the edge of the ceramic into the soup until the noodles just barely peeked through. you sat there, noodles pinched by your chopsticks though still submerged in the broth as he slowly arranged green onions, garlic, pork, fermented bamboo shoots and strips of dried seaweed onto the utensil.

"ah, here we go." he finally said, setting his chopsticks down making you bring your noodles out of the broth and up to your mouth until he reached for a small spoon full of chili oil.

"not that hungry yet, love?" he quirked his brows at you when he noticed your creaky movements as you waited for him, finally bringing his mini bowl of ramen into his mouth, letting the flavors melt on his tongue before starting his slow chew. you followed suit, taking a bite and a sip of the broth.

"so hungry, suguru," you comedically sniffled to yourself, averting your gaze when he began repeating the process all over again.

n. kento

kento was quick skewer the contents onto his fork or scoop his rice onto his spoon, but slow to chew. he'd been excited for this meal after all, waltzing into the kitchen with a pep in his step after leaving work on time, still in his tie as he rolled up his sleeves to begin cooking. the table ending up with a beautiful spread of new dishes that caught his attention in the magazine he picked up last weekend.

unsurprising, the conversation would be about his thoughts on how all the components melded together, how one highlighted another, what it reminded him of. always a memory of a place you two went to together, then a small smile gracing his lips as he tells you that the two of you should go there again in the future. he'd ask you your thoughts, lips forming a small o as he listened to your suggestion of adding a little bit of that the next time he wanted to cook the dish.

the only thing surprising about trying to match his pace was actually how much bread he consumed, which you hadn't realized before until you felt like bursting at the seams when he picked up his forth roll-- a new recipe with his homemade garlic oil painted on top. you'd given up a while ago, choosing to enjoy the food he cooked, his love for bread unmatched. your head in your hand as you watched him chew, anyone on the outside would've assumed that he was eating out of necessity, but under your gaze you were blinded by the sparkle in his eyes as the flavors danced on his tongue. the momentary pause of his jaw as he conjured up a tweak in the recipe to bring it to the next level.

f. toji

you honestly weren't even going to try matching his pace. he devoured. the short skewers of yakitori disappearing into his mouth in an instant, the only thing able to pull you from your amazement was the soft 'ahhhh' he let out as he widened his mouth to accept the food. he barely took the time to finish chewing before bringing another skewer to his mouth. meals with toji usually ended with him running a lithe tongue over his lips, patting his stomach before eyeing whatever was left on your plate.

"gonna finish that?" he asked, hand already reaching whether you were done with your food or not.

he hummed to himself as you walked side by side just having left the restaurant.

"a branch from a sendai restaurant just popped up, want to try their gyutan with me?"

ah, toji's bottomless stomach and his love for meat.

A/N : aahhh i'm sorry toji's section is short, not much to write when the food is gone before you can even look at it LOL i just had suguru's so clearly in my mind and i had to stop myself from writing kento actually cooking. lowkey don't think i'm equipped for these mutli character posts lol

picnic divider by @/thecutestgrotto

line divider by @/firefly-graphics

jjk men x reader masterlist

[konigslittleliebling]

can we get könig who’s soo soo horny for simon’s girl? he knows it’s wrong to want his friend’s girlfriend but it’s hard to resist when he sees your ass poke out under your skirt!

MDNI. masturbation + in public, internet stalking, brief themes of voyeurism, not proofread.

he’d first seen you on simon’s screen since you’re his phone wallpaper, seen your pretty face filling his friend’s camera roll. it started when he first followed simon on facebook and instagram; noticing you in both profile pictures straight away. fuck he’d never wished for a woman to be someone’s sister so much.

“who is this lady?” könig asked the brit one day, large finger pointing at the recent selfie of you on simon’s page. god did he hope you were a relative or a friend.

“the missus.” the lieutenant deadpanned. shit.

and the fact that he couldn’t have you made him want you all the more.

so he went deep diving into the depths of social media; even going as far as to peruse public records :( he found you with little to no effort at all and didn’t even have to consult admin or any tech know-it-alls. within moments of scrolling he knew your place of birth — including the exact date, time and hospital wing. he memorised your social security, driver’s license and passport numbers. he even knew your mother’s maiden name.

he’d spend night after night rubbing one out to your pictures online. you liked to post pictures of yourself in short dresses — legs jutting from the mid-thigh hem whilst your breasts plunged from a low-cut neck, and he liked to look at them. it got to a point where he had to purchase an ipad just so he could view your pictures on a larger screen, getting through half of a box of tissues a day from having to wipe his cum splatters off it :((

as a boy he was never interested in masturbating. he’d do it every now and then if he was suffering from blue balls and needed release — but even then he wouldn’t watch porn or read slutty magazines.

in fact, he hadn’t even had a high school crush.

he assumed what he was feeling for you was probably the closest he’d ever gotten to possessing a schoolboy crush.

after a while of fucking his fist once, twice, thrice a day he was certain he’d wring the skin off his cock before long. sometimes it hurt to touch from tugging it too hard or for too long :( it would burn to piss and feel sensitive against the material of his boxers </3

so this meant going commando which wasn’t convenient nor practical since he often sported an awkward boner throughout the day — just due to the thought alone of whatever picture you may have uploaded that day, waiting for him to fuck his hand to all the while imagining it to be your tight little cunny :33

one day his curiosity spiked and he took it upon himself to shamelessly ask (blackmail) one of kortac’s hackers to create a deepfake of your naked body using some of your most revealing images!! he might’ve felt guilty or perhaps vile had he not fist-fucked himself into having the most hardcore orgasm of his life. he was sure his balls shrunk by half from the pure volume of cum they’d spunked out.

but the best day of his military career soon followed when he overheard a conversation between you and simon on a call, indulging in some classic phone sex in the changing room. he was sure he could hear your fingers squelching within your pussy through the speaker — something he stroked his prick to the thought of later.

then friday rolled around. friday night is drink night with the boys but that friday was different because this time simon brought company and that company was you. it was so gross when könig slipped his erect dick from his pants and started pumping it under the table — angling it at you whilst you laughed and conversed with a voice softer than silk. but he just couldn’t help himself!! especially not when you knocked something off the table and had to bend down to retrieve it — that little black dress from his favourite photos of you sliding up the curve of your arse, displaying a skimpy lace thong. he came all over your seat just before you sat back down, the thick cream smothering your panties in his milky mess :((

but gathering from the sultry look you gave him, you knew the whole time <3

[do-you-have-a-flag]

i'm just gonna call it that we need to practice mindful tech usage and security and i don't mean screentime tracking apps and vpns or whatever i mean starting from early childhood and going into adult wellbeing culture to encourage tactile hobbies and long-form work and the understanding of online devices as commodifying the user with spyware

i'm talking throwback word processors with the same ergonomics as regular smart devices for general educational work and dedicated subjects for working with digital technologies so you have theory in practice and then applying that theory in a contemporary work context. that's where you learn applications, digital safety, and how to implement the generative tools. separately. once you've already developed the critical analysis and expressive skills first.

i have been basically addicted to the internet since i was 13, i've had ups and downs with it, but i've always had a little bit of over caution when it comes to information and identity online. i overshare what i chose to but i think the break down of privacy as a norm when it comes to personal data tracking is genuinely awful.

i like algorithms in some places but i do not think this super-customisation is worth this panopticon of tech.

have you heard about how phone locations can still be triangulated when the phone is off? this is incidentally why if you are gong to protests and you think you are in danger it might be best to leave it at home. but generally if you want to avoid audio and video being used to build a marketing profile you can just switch it off and pop it in a bag or the next room. but with fb trying to make voice command smart glasses a thing (after snapchat and google both failed to sustain the same product) it bears caution that so called wearable tech such as glasses, pendants, watches, earbuds, ect.... even outside of smart cars there's the risk of passive listening for user marketing profiles. we already have location based advertising, ads that track your useage to predict your menstrual cycle or life events, public ads that react to nearby phones

i am going off on this tangent to say that i am not naïve to the fact that we already have to constantly dig into 'dark patterns' of settings to opt out of surveillance and commodification. i'm aware that the easiest path is to do nothing and use the shortcut machines even when they don't actually help or save much time or effort beyond selling you tools that already exist with a new price tag. i'm aware that the plagiarism software with no idea what it's talking about and runs on resource wasting pollution and underpaid remote human labour that also gets slapped in every function role despite basically being fancy autofil and pixel pulp not only has all of those issues but the lay person is either unaware or does not care and companies only care that it is a new way to pretend they're innovating. i know all this just like i know that mass automation is just exploitation unless it is balanced with social structures for all that mean emancipation from the need for labour.

but while i think all tech can be used for good, facilitating human connection across physical distance, carefully trained data analysis on a rapid large scale, removing the tedium of technical drudgery where needed, just providing light entertainment. but we have gotta be better about legislating, moderating, and use culture.

use culture goes hand in hand with convenience. it's why vinyl records are still trendy, not only are they good at what they do, but there is enough cool factor that the inconvenience becomes a feature. CDs are also convenient still! but CDs do not have the cool factor so they get wiped out by the convenience of streaming. playlists in streaming have a cool factor that radio does not despite radio still being convenient. and remember no matter how much streaming claims you can pay to opt out of ads that's usually something that you get payment tiered out of eventually so the convenience facilitated by accessibility is debatable the longer time passes.

looping back to my original point, if we can encourage an understanding of digital privacy as something you shouldn't be complacent about, that you shouldn't have to pay for tools to get out of the spotlight, that it is immensely embarrassing to be too into exploitation by tech companies and make that the problem of everyone around you. user control should be synonymous with convenience. customisability/personalisation through individual control rather than passive scraping. you can still commodify decorative tech.

we gotta make slop and babying algorithm brained tech usage cringe. people don't care to hear that it's immoral so just make them feel uncool at this point. because it is embarrassing that you have the universe of resources at your fingertips and you're too scared to do anything with it other than beg it to put words in your mouth. who cares if you're chronically online or too busy irl to learn a new skill. you are like a little bird pecking at it's own reflection, that's sad. try saying something mediocre and honest. we gotta stop tap dancing into technofeudalism just because we're too complacent to actually talk to each-other.

[zentarablog]

Strong Passwords: 10 Golden Rules for Online Security

In the grand architecture of our digital lives, passwords are the keys to every door. They guard our most sensitive information: our emails, bank accounts, social media profiles, and private photos. Yet, for something so critical, they are often treated as a trivial afterthought. We use our pet’s name, our birthday, or the classic “Password123,” leaving these vital doors unlocked and wide open…

[fus-mar-hoz]

for the asks: do you believe it's worth it joining a party/organization if you've still not cleared up where you fall ideologically (as in, i haven't read enough theory to know if i agree the most with M-Lism or left communism etc etc). i have asked a couple of more experienced people about this and they have all said that it's better to wait and educate oneself first and then get organized, but i feel like even if i am still a "beginner", it could still be an invaluable experience. i don't know. i would love to hear your opinion

I think it's rather the opposite. Organizing oneself and joining a party can be a significant life commitment that exceeds a decade, but it doesn't have to be, you can just leave a political party, especially in a liberal democracy such as your case. The distinction between these currents lies not only in theory, but in the way the modern currents in their specific areas of intervention apply it and carry it out. The best way to learn about democratic centralism is not to pour over the organizational diagrams of the parties of the third international, but to participate in it yourself. The best way to learn about the forms and methods of agitation is not to scour the internet and archives for memoirs, but to do it yourself. I joined my party considering myself an anarcho-communist, and my own ideological development and education was slingshotted forward into settling securely in Marxism-Leninism not because my comrades sent me Stalin's anarchism or socialism (in fact I don't think I've read it in full yet), but because I learnt and educated myself organizing, applying all that has been written on marxism-leninism to our reality. My criticisms of anarchism, though philosophically grounded in what I've read on materialism and idealism, etc, sprung from my experience comparing anarchic forms of organization and practice to the party's, through our participation in spaces organized horizontally.

You don't get organized following an ideological current because it's the pinnacle of your own private intellectual development, you study theory and weigh these currents against each other to better improve and sistematize the things you do while organized. All of this theorizing is only and should only be done with the everpresent purpose of organizing the proletariat. More secondary intellectual pursuits, while not incompatible, are not the horse, nor the cart, they're the cart's accessories. What makes these currents more correct or more wrong is not the sense they make to you in a vaccum, but their viability in the current set of conditions.

[astars-things]

Private argument turned public pt2

Y/n Hughes x Lando Norris

Part one -> here

Lando stared at the hotel room door you'd slammed shut behind you. Lando knew he fucked up big time, he was being tagged in tweets, TikTok and Instagram posts regarding the comment he made on the McLaren Instagram. 

It felt like the whole world was hating on him and he deserved it. Not to mention the fact that your brothers, Oscar, Zak and even his family had all sent him messages about how he fucked up and that his comment was not needed. Now he needed a plan to unfuck his fuck up 

step one- owning his mistake, that one was probably the easiest for him to do, he didn't want his Pr team to write it, he knew it had to come from him. He grabbed his phone opened up his notes app and started typing, once it was written up he sent it to his best friend Max (fewtrell) to proofread. Once he got the all good from him, Lando posted the statement to his all of his social media accounts 

"Dear everyone,

Before you keep reading this is me, not pr. Nobody told me to put this out this is me owning up to my mistake, I made a stupid, disrespectful comment under a McLaren post. I thought I was being clever. I wasn't. I was being immature, careless, and completely unfair to someone who didn't deserve it.

The woman behind the camera, behind the content, behind the scenes... is also the woman I love. And instead of supporting her in the job she's worked her ass off to earn, I made her job harder. I made her look like the bad guy when I was the one being impossible. I took a private frustration and aired it in front of the entire internet like a coward.

And I'm so deeply sorry for that. 

I can't take it back. But I can try to be better. For her. For myself. 

- lando" 

as soon as he hit post he let out a deep breath. step one was completed, and step two was now in motion he messaged Jack 

Lando🏎️ - I Know I fucked up, I love her so much. If I fly to New Jersey can you pick me up from the airport? 

Jack🏒 - I had my twin, my built-in best friend cry in my arms for 2 hours Lando so yeah you fucked up

Jack🏒 - I can pick you up but you're on your own from then  

Lando knew this was a good sign that your twin hadn't blocked him yet. It wasn't forgiveness, but it was something. A crack in the door. So he wasted no time quickly booked the flights, packed all his things and set off to the airport, giving the taxi guy a good tip. 

He made it through security and was sat on the plane, headphones on listening to your shared playlist on Spotify. Every song felt like a memory, and every lyric hit like a bruise he'd earned.

He texted Jack that he was an hour from landing, and when Lando finally landed he saw a small gift shop with roses, he got you pink and red roses and brought a card as well standing there he poured his heart out in the card.

 He made his way out of the airport his bag on his back with the roses and card in hand, he spotted Jack's car and got in not missing the fact that Luke and Jack were staring at him, it was an awkward silence the whole drive to Jack and Lukes apartment 

"Luke and I are heading to practice. You've got the place to yourselves, sort your shit out." He tossed a spare key into Lando's lap, then added with a glare, "And please, for the love of God, don't fuck in my apartment."

Then he was out of the car, leaving Lando alone with the key, the flowers, and every mistake he'd made. The key slipped into the lock with a soft click.

Lando hesitated, his hand still on the doorknob, as if turning it would set off a chain reaction he couldn't control. He took a slow breath, heart pounding against his ribs, and finally pushed the door open. 

He stepped in cautiously, roses in one hand, the card clutched in the other. His eyes scanned the room and then he saw you.

You were curled up on the couch in one of Jack's hoodies, a blanket wrapped around you like armor. Your hair was pulled back in a messy bun, cheeks puffy and eyes red. You didn't look up right away. You were too focused on the TV playing some old re-run with the volume barely audible like even that was too much. 

When you finally noticed movement in your peripheral vision, you blinked, disoriented. "Jack, I thought you had—" You paused when your gaze landed on him. "You're not Jack." Lando's throat tightened. "No, I'm not Jack," he said softly, stepping further inside. "I'm just your boyfriend who really, truly fucked up."

"would you like to stay dressed like that or get changed, we are going for a walk and we are sorting this out" Lando said pointing between him and you,  you decided to just stay in sweatpants and a hoodie. The two of you walked in silence down the street for a few blocks, the leaves crunching underfoot. You kept your arms crossed tight over your chest. He kept his hands in his pockets like he wasn't sure if they were allowed to exist right now.

"You humiliated me, made me feel like you don't support me" You spoke breaking the silence between you two "You made me feel like a shit girlfriend because I was just doing my job" Lando stopped walking. You did too, slowly, turning to face him. 

"I know, I fucked up, and I know it's not an excuse but all the hate lately and just the last thing I wanted to do was fake being happy for a video. You didn’t deserve that, and I hate that I made you feel that way."  Lando spoke wrapping his arms around you and giving you a gentle kiss on the forehead 

You looked up at him making eye contact "You fuck up like that one more time," you said, holding his gaze, voice trembling just slightly, "and we’re done, Lando. I’m not going to keep fighting for someone who won’t fight for me." His shoulders dropped a little

and he nodded, Lando held out his pinky finger towards you "I pinky promise I'm going to do better" he said interlocking both of your pinky fingers together before giving each other a kiss, it was your little way of making that pinky promise last  

[luckyartdrawer]

Happy Eclipse Week! <333

For those who don't know, @artistic-shapeshifter is hosting a Eclipse Week 2025 for CANON FNAF Ruin Eclipse! (Click for original post!) There's a handful of rules and optional Prompts for each day if you're curious! It goes from the 19th to the 25th! Very excited to see all the wonderful Eclipse stuff throughout the week :3c

Taking it easy for today since it's my birthday! :D So below is a snippet I had made a couple months ago to get a feel of how'd I'd write a post-Ruin Eclipse fic! Enjoy! 💖

Rain to a Robot: Ruin Eclipse X GN reader Tags: Fluff and Angst, Fluff, Comfort, little Hurt with Comfort, he/they pronouns used here for DCA Words: ~680 (Would likely take place in later half of 2nd arc -- implied romantic feelings, but not the focus)

The droplets pitter patter against the window, unrelenting and threatening to flood the streets. The sky is grey and the noise is overwhelming, mother nature demanding attention; the attention that it craves to have after all the labor of love she's provided. It's beautiful.

Not a single thought could be heard over the treacherous weather beating against the building.

Sun would have remembered the times when he feared the rain, terrified of when it was particularly stormy. They'd jump at even the smallest crackle of thunder in the distance. A single power outage would have caused ruin to all those he swore to protect; hands jittering, afraid to touch anyone.

Nevermind all the generators, without them preemptively running due to lazy staff, even a second of the lights out would spell disaster. He taught his little friends to hide hide hide away in the play structures, hoping they'd be smart enough to remember his aptly named game of “Generators” if the lights went out.

Moon would have remembered the times when rain was a reprieve. Not many families came in on rainy days, which meant less children in the pizza plex, thus, practically no victims on such days. The Virus would be quiet, uncaring of what they'd do with no poor soul locked in the building.

He'd scuttle about the building to follow his security protocols, but at the times when no one cared, when each room was checked… They’d hug near the roof, even entering vents to get as close as possible to the outside, just to hear the wet smacks from the other side. The sound spelt peace.

Eclipse doesn't know how to feel about the rain personally.

It's been so long since he was Sun. Since he was Moon. Conjoined into one, trying to get used to the splits of their AI merging back together. Being outside of the pizza plex was enough of a hurdle to overcome.

He doesn't fear the rain, but he's not exactly comfortable with it either. The power going out would be more of an tiny annoyance, the internet no longer available to keep him and you entertained. The biggest comfort of rainy days are just because they keep his beloved inside longer with him, nothing exactly for himself, though he supposes reminiscing isn't always bad.

On rainy days like these, Eclipse found the best thing he could do was watch.

He'll admire the racing droplets running down the windowpane for Moon.

He'll keep inside and dry, a safe and warm comfort for Sun.

And for himself, he'll wait for you to join him, mug in hand. Hot cocoa to keep you warm as you cuddle against their distorted casing.

You once told him the way he acts is so nostalgic, comparing their rapt attention to childhood memories of being stuck in a car, betting on which raindrop would be faster as it danced across the door window.

Thinking of such things makes him giggle. He adores hearing of your childish side. Such a whimsical view of things…

That is another thing that makes him so unlike Sun and Moon. Unlike them, he has you.

You'd place your mug on the windowsill he crowds, before crawling up against him on the couch with a thick wool blanket to keep the warmth between the two of you. Then, as snug as a bug in a rug, together you point out raindrops and bet on which one will win.

Eclipse learned to watch instead of listen, not because he couldn't, but he had the choice to.

He watched as his chosen champions won or lost. He watched as you sipped on your warm drink. He watched as you snuggled in, turning into his chest, sleepily denying your tired antics. He watched as you snored in his arms, taking the thought of rain away from him altogether.

Rain was nice, and it used to be of the utmost importance. Now, it's only important because you make it so.

Not a single worry or lingering sense of dread in sight.

Not even a drop.

Little doodle I made to be indulgent for the special day lololol:

[michuga]

beautiful, dirty, rich 1

your entire life is a façade; to be rich, you have to act rich. until you meet someone who shows you that some things, you simply can't cheat your way into.

pairing: ceo jeongguk x fraud reader

warnings: swearing, catfishing, manipulation

a/n: my first series.. a bit nervous about it, but please let me know what you think :) enjoy!

to be rich, you have to act rich.

you and your roommate and best friend of many years, eunji, have been pretending to be rich for the past two years.

you were skeptical at first, but when you got into your first paris fashion show, that's when you knew this might actually succeed.

apparently, when people think you're important, they give you everything you want.

it started with a dare.

eunji’s balancing a cheap bottle of rosé on her knee, scrolling through instagram. "bet we could sneak into that," she says, flashing her screen at you. paris fashion week, influencers dripping in designer clothes, flashing cameras, and velvet ropes.

you laugh it off at first. but the idea lingers. later that night, after too much alcohol and not enough common sense, you both raid your closets, throwing together outfits that almost look designer if you squint hard enough. a pair of knockoff sunglasses here, a thrifted blazer there. you practice your walk in the mirror; chin up, eyes forward, head held high.

the next day, you arrive at the venue, hearts pounding. but something strange happens.

as you look straight ahead and strut right through, the security guy barely glances at you. the crowd parts. the cameras flash; maybe by accident, maybe not. but no one stops you.

later, sitting in the back row with a glass of champagne you definitely didn’t pay for, eunji leans over, whispering, "that was too easy."

one fashion show turns into another. and another. soon, you’re not just sneaking in—you’re invited. or at least, that’s what people think.

you start studying the scene. watching how the rich move, how they talk. the subtle flexes: a casual mention of a vacation home in the maldives, an offhand complaint about a yacht’s engine problems.

you learn to drop hints without overplaying your hand. eunji masters the art of the perfect instagram post, carefully curating your shared feed to make it look like you’ve been living this life forever.

it's been your party trick ever since.

that wasn't your last brush with wealth.

as you got bolder, you started going to places you purposely knew rich people frequented. or at least that's what the internet told you.

rooftop bars with $20 cocktails, hotel lobbies where the marble floors gleamed a little too brightly, art galleries where the paintings were just as pretentious as the people admiring them. you and eunji would walk in like you owned the place.

it was easy, once you realized how little it took to blend in.

the rules were simple: look the part, play the part, and never let them see you sweat. you and eunji learned that fast. wealth wasn’t about money; it was about perception.

the rich weren’t just beautiful and powerful—they were dirty.

it's a dirty game you were playing. a dirty game in a filthy world.

it wasn’t just about sneaking into fashion shows or getting free drinks.

no, the game got dirtier the deeper you went. men with too much money and too little conscience started noticing you. you knew their type—married with a mistress on speed dial, or single but treating women like accessories to match their suits.

none of them were good men. they were the kind who treated waiters like furniture, snapping their fingers to call them over; like they were at their beck and call. the kind who thought their money could buy loyalty, love, you.

the first time a man offered to buy you something outrageous, it was in one of those places. a dimly lit bar at the top of a five-star hotel, where the view of the city felt like it was reserved for people with trust funds and offshore accounts. you were sitting at the bar, swirling a drink you could barely afford, when he slid into the seat next to you.

stephen, with a p. mid-thirties, expensive watch, the kind of suit that whispered old money.

the conversation started the way it always did—where you’re from, what you do, the kind of small talk that feels like a performance. you mentioned, offhandedly, that your laptop was on its last leg, crashing mid-paper like it had a personal vendetta against your degree. you didn’t expect much from it; just a throwaway comment. that was your humor.

but then he laughed, like it was cute, like you were cute. and with the ease of someone who never had to check their bank account, he said, "send me the specs. i'll take care of it."

you nearly choked on your drink. but you kept your cool, because that’s the rule. don't ogle and squeal like a damn fool; act like you’ve been here before. like men buying you thousand-dollar electronics is just another thursday.

later that night, when you stumbled back into your apartment—tiny, cramped, with the leaky faucet you never got around to fixing—eunji was waiting. the second you closed the door behind you, the facade cracked, you could finally breathe. you both screamed into pillows, half in disbelief, half in exhilaration, like teenagers who’d just pulled off the ultimate prank.

two days later, the laptop arrived. brand new, still in the box, with that fresh-out-the-factory smell.

you and eunji hovered over it like it was some kind of sacred artifact.

"i'll be damned," she said in amusement, hands on her hips.

with a shrug you add, "money talks."

you weren’t just scraping by anymore—you were winning. and that was just the beginning.

the next guy flew you out to milan for the weekend because you joked about never having seen italy. the one who “accidentally” upgraded your hotel suite to a penthouse overlooking the seine.

after that, the finance bro who bought you a cartier bracelet after a month of dating, saying it matched your “timeless beauty.” you still wore it sometimes, not because of him, but because it reminded you of the game you were playing—and winning.

they never really had you. you were always three steps ahead, smiling just enough, leaning in just close enough, keeping them wrapped around your finger while you stayed untouchable at a safe distance.

you and eunji would come home after these nights, collapse onto your couch, and laugh until your stomachs hurt. you’d trade stories like war veterans, compare gifts, and toast to the next big score with whatever cheap wine you had in the fridge.

it wasn’t just about the gifts. It was the thrill of it. the rush of knowing you were beating a system that was never designed for girls like you.

but the thing about dirt—it clings to you, even when you’re wrapped in silk and drowning in champagne.

they were predators, but so were you.

or at least, you learned to be.

it was in the lies you told, the masks you wore, the way you started to forget where the real you ended and the act began.

it was fun at first—a joke, a thrill. but somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like a game. the stakes got higher, the lines got blurrier, and you started wondering if you could ever really wash it all off.

because in this world, the glitter hides the grime. and the higher you climb, the harder it is to tell the difference.

this summer, you and eunji decided to take your two-woman show to monaco. the billionaire's playground.

back at your hotel room, both of you get ready. the faint hum of city traffic seeps in from the cracked window, mingling with the low hum of your shared playlist. your shared room smells like dry shampoo and overpriced perfume samples swiped from department store counters.

you each had a small collection of luxury items you took extra care of, only ever dry cleaning them and wearing them with the utmost care. you exchanged clothes when you wanted to switch it up, relying on each other to keep the ruse going.

your suitcase lies open on the bed, its contents meticulously arranged: the few luxury items you’ve both collected over the years like precious artifacts. a chanel blazer you snagged from a thrift store but had tailored to perfection, a pair of louboutin heels eunji found on ebay, scuffed on the sole but flawless everywhere else, a silk gucci scarf you both swear was a lucky find, even though you’re pretty sure it’s a knockoff.

eunji stands at the mirror, her hair twisted into loose waves, holding up two dresses; one black, one red. she eyes your reflection in the mirror.

"thoughts?"

you glance over from where you’re carefully steaming your blouse, a saint laurent that’s been dry-cleaned more times than you can count.

"the red says 'i own a yacht', but the black says 'i own the company that makes yachts'," you reply.

giggling, she sets the red dress back down to put the black on. "got it."

eunji moves to your side, rifling through your jewelry tray—the bracelet you share, the pearl earrings you got from that flea market but pretend are heirlooms.

grabbing the bracelet, she clasps it around your wrist with practiced ease.

"you wear this tonight. it matches you."

you nod, adjusting the bracelet on your wrist; your good luck charm. meanwhile, she slips into your heels. it’s routine by now, this exchange of identities, this careful curation of the personas you took on.

before heading out, you both step back to inspect each other in the mirror. you take turns doing a spin, making sure no left detail leaves way to reveal yourselves. one wrong move, one slip-up, and the illusion cracks.

word travels fast in this world, everyone is connected; the rich were very particular and serious about the company they keep. and you definitely couldn't afford to be blacklisted, shunned. not when you've come this far.

from the outside, you look like you belong to this world—lounging on fat trust fund bank accounts in tiny bikinis and piña coladas in your hands.

but only you and eunji know the truth; hiding in the tags carefully tucked away, credit card limits stretched thin, and whispered pep talks in hotel rooms like this one.

eunji grins, grabbing her clutch.

"eat the rich, baby."

and with that, you’re out the door, high on adrenaline, walking the thin line between who you are and who the world thinks you are.

fake it till you make it, right?

you never would have imagined faking it would get you invited to one of monaco's most famous fundraisers held for a-class actors celebs and trust fund babies.

the rooftop hums with soft jazz, laughter, and the faint clink of crystal glasses. dim lighting envelops the space, the kind that makes everything feel like a secret.

eunji grins, checking herself in a nearby mirror one last time. "you know, if we pull this off tonight, drinks are on me."

"if we pull this off tonight, drinks are on him." you shoot her a look, nodding to an older man at the bar. she laughs, playfully hitting you.

"i'm gonna be right back." eunji says, pointing to the bathroom.

with a smile and a nod, you make your way over to the bar. sitting down, you order a glass of wine.

you see her before she sees you.

she was elegant, poised, the kind of woman you'd see in old black and white movies. she also took a seat right next to you.

"i'll have what she's having" the woman motions her hands to the bartender, referring to you.

intrigued, you silently sip on your drink.

"i don't believe we've met," she starts, finally addressing you.

"there are many people here," you jest.

"and i know almost every single one of them," she says with a chuckle, one eyebrow raised. "i'm isla. isla montgomery."

as you exchange introductions, she makes small talk. you soon learn about her travels and the two companies she owns.

you don't share much about yourself, and she doesn't pry, either. it seems that she's very fond of herself; which is probably for the best.

feeling a tap on your shoulder, eunji finally graces you with her presence, two eons later.

giving isla an apologetic smile, you excuse yourself. mirroring your smile, she gestures for you to go, assuring you it's no worry.

"who was that?" eunji inquires as you both walk away.

"isla montgomery." you mock with a sarcastic tone and a roll of your eyes, glancing at eunji.

"very fancy," eunji laughs.

spotting a private blackjack table sits slightly apart from the crowd; you and eunji eventually make your way over there.

you watch as men with gold chains and women sprawled across their laps make starting bets with a few months' worth of rent, more or less.

lapping around the table from a distance, you slowly make note of their cards. their movements. their thought processes. you’ve been watching the table for an hour, quietly cataloging every tell, every mistake masked by arrogance and overpriced whiskey.

one guy was doomed the minute he was dealt his hand, a few couldn't bluff to save their lives.

either way; you already knew who would win.

about a half hour later, the result was as you had predicted.

"hey, i'm gonna tap in next round," you inform the croupier.

he nods, preparing your chips.

"what? are you serious?" eunji whisper-yells at you, lightly holding your arm to stop you. "there is no way you can go toe to toe against men who have nothing to lose! you'll be betting on your hard-earned life savings, for god's sake!"

"which is why i won't lose." you affirm.

confidence is everything in your world. it's what got you here in the first place.

"everyone at that table was horseshit. i think i have a fair shot."

"sounds like someone's confident," you hear a presence make itself known behind you.

turning around, your eyes meet the source of the voice.

a chiseled face, every line etched with precision; features carved like stone, softened by the warmth in his eyes.

a tall, well-groomed man who looks only relatively older than you and eunji.

not to mention incredibly sexy. and filthy rich, judging by the sheer amount of body jewelry he's wearing.

he raises a brow and nods his head towards the blackjack table, "think you can take my buddy taehyung?"

you follow his gaze to the blonde—taehyung. you remember him.

slick, confident, a little too eager when he thought no one was paying attention. one of the better ones, but still horseshit.

"how much you wanna bet?"

there’s no pause. no calculation. just the soft clink of his glass against the marble bar as he sets it down and says,

"i'll bet a million on you, golden girl."

the words hang there, heavier than the jazz, sharper than the city lights glittering below.

you blink, processing. you thought he was going to bet on his buddy. that’s how these games work; back your guy, show loyalty, play it safe.

but he’s not playing safe. he’s betting on you.

your pulse kicks up, but you don’t show it. instead, you lean in slightly, your voice low, laced with the same easy confidence he just threw at you.

"a million? you sure you’re not drunk?"

his grin is lazy, but his eyes are razor-sharp. "not drunk. just good at reading people"

you pick up your drink, letting the cool glass ground you, then glance back at taehyung. "let's see what blondie's got."

a million. jesus.

these people really have nothing better to do with their money.

despite your shock, you were just glad you didn't have to bet with your own money.

you move toward the table, every step deliberate, like you’ve already won. in reality, you were just trying to fathom what you got yourself into.

showtime.

you're not supposed to be here. not at this party, not at this table. but here you are, sliding into the empty seat like you own it, your dress catching the light just enough to look expensive. despite your internal panic, you don't fidget. that’s the rule. act like you belong, and no one will question it.

and never, ever show weakness. the lions won't hesitate to pounce.

you play with calm precision, not reckless but with just enough boldness to stir curiosity. you don't count cards, you read people.

betting when others hesitate, folding with a slight smirk like you know more than you let on.

years of quietly observing wealth were being put to the test, at this very moment.

you’re dealt a 9 of hearts and a 6 of spades; that’s 15. not great.

taehyung has a face card showing: an 8 of diamonds. strong position.

you get another card: 5 of clubs. now you’ve got 20—almost perfect.

everyone expects you to stand. it’s the smart move.

but you don’t.

you tap the table. "hit me."

gasps ripple around the table. the dealer hesitates, then deals. 9 of spades. you bust with 29. game over.

taehyung smirks as he plays his hand, thinking you’re reckless. jeongguk watches closely, his interest sharpened.

"guess i was feeling bold," you say, flashing a sheepish smile.

everyone assumes you've made a rookie mistake. they laugh it off, but in that split second, you've done something much more subtle: you've read taeyhung's body language.

he doesn't leave himself open for too long, immediately putting his poker face back on.

but you've already seen it—that tiny flinch in his jaw when you hit on 20. he wouldn’t have risked it. he’s cautious, calculated. but now? now you’ve thrown him off balance.

you've watched him closely, just long enough to notice the tiny flinch when you hit on 20. he doesn’t want to take risks like you did—he’s more cautious—but his pride won’t let him stand back and let you crash and burn. he watches you, and that tiny hesitation is all you need.

so when he faces a similar hand, he hesitates; like you had expected.

your words from earlier echo in his head: "the bold move is the smart move."

the smart move is to stand. but the weight of his friend's million-dollar bet on you lingers in the air, clouding his judgement. he starts to second guess himself.

taehyung knows he can't lose here, not after all the bluster. he should stand, but he feels the weight of the moment. it’s too much.

looking around, he tries to read the room.

taehyung picks up on the tension. if you're confident enough to risk hitting on 20, maybe you know something he doesn’t.

you smile next to him, tilting your head like you've already won.

his ego can't handle it.

and so he taps.

pushing away your chips, you get up. as you rise from your seat, you lean down, voice low enough for only him to hear.

"you play the cards. i play the player."

it hits him right as the dealer flips taehyung’s hidden card. he had 15, just like you did earlier. thinking you were reckless, he copied your moves.

he hit when he should’ve stood—

—and bust.

jeongguk chuckles quietly, not surprised.

"she's good."

you walk back over to him. leaning back against the bar, a slow grin spreads on his face.

"i didn’t bet on you to win the hand. i bet on you to win the game."

and you did.

maybe not the blackjack game, but you won the game.

leaning into his ear, you whisper, "what's a million anyway, right?"

with a soft triumphant smirk, you straighten up and walk away.

next >

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taglist: @rpwprpwprpwprw

[httpvomitello]

aah, haiii!! i saw ur reqs was open for tmnt mutant mayhem (MY GOODNESS ITS SO HARD FINDING OTHER MUTANT MAYHEM WRITERS IN THE TAG WHEN ITS DEAD) so i thought i might request!! :)

could i req a few drabbles n hcs of mikey with a female kpop (doesnt have to be kpop specifically) idol reader?? like yk the basic stuff, globally popular and well liked model?? it’s alr if you cant do it!!

have fun, take care of yourself and drink and eat and rest!!

Hello my beautiful person! So, I'm not writing for TMNT anymore(on hiatus for a while). But! I know how hard it is to find something from a fandom that's practically gone, so I decided to accept your request. Hope you like it ~ ♡♡♡♡

DON'T FORGET TO DRINK PLENTY OF WATER AND EAT TOO! I'm serious, I'll be keeping an eye on each and every one of you...

Fanboy Mikey *⁠.⁠✧

tmnt mm mikey x f!idol

Mikey is your #1 fan.

Like, he was a fan before you two even met. Posters on his wall, saved dance covers on his phone, and an embarrassing number of your songs on his playlist. The moment he found out you were real and actually into him? Mind blown.

He brags about you ALL THE TIME. You’re a global superstar, and he is so in love with you. His brothers get tired of hearing, “Did you see what Y/N posted today? Bro, she’s so talented,” at least five times a day.

Super supportive boyfriend vibes.

Whether it’s sending you good luck texts before a performance or watching every live stream you do (even if it’s at 3 AM), he’s always cheering you on.

Fanboy over you even in private.

You could literally be eating cereal in his hoodie, hair a mess, and he’d still be like, “Omg, my girlfriend is so stunning. The world doesn’t deserve her.”

Learns your choreography.

He already dances, so if you’re a performer, expect him to master your choreo just to show off. If you ever do a TikTok dance trend together? It will break the internet.

Lowkey insecure sometimes.

Like, you’re famous famous. Paparazzi, fans screaming your name, sold-out stadiums—the whole thing. He worries that maybe he’s not good enough, but you always reassure him with forehead kisses and cuddles.

Loves it when you sing to him.

No matter what, if you hum a song while lying on his chest, he’s melting. Absolute puddle.

Tries to go incognito at your concerts.

He wears the biggest hoodie and sunglasses combo and still gets recognized. Your fans think it’s adorable how supportive he is.

Secretly loves it when you style him.

He’s got his own fashion sense, sure, but if you ever put him in a cute outfit or match with him? He’s posing for the ‘gram immediately.

Paparazzi Problems

Mikey wasn’t used to this. The flashing cameras, the crowd of people calling your name, the chaos of it all. He squeezed your hand a little tighter as you smiled and waved at the fans gathered outside the restaurant.

“You okay?” you murmured, tilting your head to check on him.

Mikey blinked, suddenly realizing he’d been staring. “Oh, yeah! Totally! Just, uh… wow. This is normal for you?”

You chuckled, tugging him a little closer as security guided you both to the car. “Pretty much.”

Once inside, away from the noise, he let out a dramatic exhale. “Babe, I love you, but man, I dunno how you do that every day.”

Sometimes he even forgets that because he is a mutant turtle, he also ends up attracting a lot of attention.

You giggled, reaching over to ruffle his hoodie-covered curls. “That’s why I like being with you. You make me feel normal.”

Mikey’s heart did a little flip. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Now, let’s go home and watch cartoons.”

Mikey beamed. “Best. Girlfriend. *Ever.*”

TikTok Shenanigans

“Mikey, keep your arms still—”

“I’m trying! But this move is impossible, babe.”

You sighed dramatically, stepping back and crossing your arms. “You literally learned a triple backflip off a skyscraper, and you can’t do a simple eight count?”

Mikey pouted. “That was different! This is, like… so precise. I don’t wanna mess it up.”

You softened, reaching for his hands. “You’re not gonna mess up. Just follow me, okay?”

He nodded, cheeks dusted pink. “Okay.”

By the time you finally nailed the routine and posted the video, the internet was losing it.

@fanaccount: MICHELANGELO LEARNED THE WHOLE CHOREO FOR HIS GIRLFRIEND I CAN’T—

@anotherfanofYN: They’re literally the cutest couple ever wtf

@iloveYN: The way he looks at her omg, we lost him to love y’all

Mikey, reading the comments “Babe… am I a boyfriend goal now?”

You smirked. “You always have been.”