#CEO Vine

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[soov]

𔓕　KEEP JAZZ A(LiVE)。 ㅤceo .ᐟ 𝓟ark 𝓙ongseong

（ 命 ）fem reader 、15OO words　fluff ⋄ ceo au, s2l and estabilished relationship　─　kissing, suggestive & mentions of food。

in which you and jay coincidentally go to the same live jazz restaurant, and end up with your dates being at his house after some of his wooing.

Jazz and food — is there a greater combination? You liked to believe that there wasn’t, especially after discovering L'Arôme, a restaurant unexpectedly close to your house hidden by a narrow cobblestone path and many vine branches.

L'Arôme was easily one of the most beautiful places you had ever visited. The dim atmosphere and yellowish lamps managed to make the open interior look cozier than it should. The walls were mostly textured with burnished concrete; the plants that grew on the outside of the restaurant, too, covered the inside of it.

The ambiance was jaw-dropping, the food was delicious, and the live jazz music was equally as perfect. Marcus and Thereza, the old, retired couple who played the saxophone and piano out of love for music, had also gotten a special place in your heart.

You started to love the place even more when a certain man began to frequent it every late Friday as you did.

He was exceptionally charming, white shirt neatly rolled up to his elbows, hair combed back, and a Rolex on his wrist. Despite him looking like the embodiment of luxury, what attracted your attention were his courteous interactions with the employees, and the polite small-talk he had with the musicians to compliment them.

“Men like him still exist?” It seemed that even the people who worked there pondered the same thing. At least, that was what your bartender told you.

The raven-haired man left you intrigued for his next visits; even more so when he pulled out a tiny moleskin and pen out of his pocket, jotting down notes whilst carefully listening to the music, and occasionally stealing a bite of his dish.

You didn’t notice how he gazed back at you until he cracked one of his peaceful smiles, making you immediately look back to your glass of wine sheepishly.

He kept exchanging glances and grins with you before he finally came up to you one night.

“Can I sit here? Don’t worry, I’ll pay for my food.” He pointed to the wooden chair in front of you, and you agreed, of course. Why wouldn’t you?

During that dinner, you found out that his name is Park Jongseong, but he prefers going by Jay. He loves traveling and learning about new cultures, cooking, and sometimes composing songs, hence the notebook. He learned that you enjoy fashion and cats. You two discovered that among your many shared tastes, perfumes and scents were your top ones. Ironic, considering the name of the place where you two met.

Jay did not pay his bill that night, by the way, but rather his and yours when you had a quick restroom break. When it was time for you to leave, he ordered you a cab, making sure you were alright before closing its door.

He did that for the next few weeks, and in a specific one, Jay called you asking if the meetup could be an actual date. And again, you agreed. Why wouldn’t you?

So he showed up with a suit of your favorite color. You didn’t remember that well when you told him what it was, but he still remembered it, just like your favorite flowers in the bouquet he held. Even with all his grand gestures, Jongseong was a simple man — just a kiss on his tan cheek before you hopped in the cab made him weak on his knees.

The pattern kept going on up ‘till he asked you to be his girlfriend, and the next dates moved to his million-dollar penthouse. You didn’t get how crazy money he made in his CEO job until he picked you up in his sleek black Porsche and drove you to one of the best neighborhoods in the city. When he already had such manners and looked like a sculpture manually carved by the Greek gods, his money wasn’t that much of a big deal.

And with all that being said, Jay was ten thousand times happier with having your Friday dates in the coziness and intimacy of his home.

“Jay, baby, I wanna help too...” You mumbled with your arms nestled around his waist, chin on his broad back as you watched him set up the final touches to the seasoned meat to get it to the oven.

“You’re helping already with your hugs,” he said back, chuckling when you whined against his cashmere sweater.

“Doesn’t count,” you huffed, “you already had prepared everything before I arrived. You’re no fun.”

He couldn’t help but laugh again, “I didn’t fill our glasses with wine, though. You can help me with that.” Jay suggested, washing his hands off.

With grumbles of defeat, you made your way to his wine wall, picking up an unopened bottle of your favorite. After you began dating him, you had turned into a somewhat wine expert with all the knowledge he shared.

Popping the bottle open, you poured the drink into two burgundy glasses, taking a sip of yours and leaving it near the charcuterie board on the coffee table.

Jay changed the vinyl playing to a copy of Thereza’s and Marcus’ jazz album that he bought from them, one of their original songs playing smoothly in the background. He soon approached you, hand reached out in reverence. “Can I have this dance?”

You beamed and nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck and allowing him to encircle your waist. “This is nice.” You commented and he nodded in agreement.

“Really nice.”

His thumbs rubbed your sides while your fingertips ran through his strands, meekly massaging his scalp. Jay melted into you, his cheek resting on your shoulder as if wanting to get even closer during the slow dance.

“You’re gonna suffocate me, Jay,” you choked out with a giggle, and he immediately took a step back, though still leaning on your body.

“Sorry.” He mumbled.

When his apology got dismissed, he tugged you to the living room quickly without even bothering to say a word. You let out a quiet laugh when he sat down and pulled you to his lap.

“What’s up with the commotion?” You prodded at his slightly uncommon clinginess and quietude.

Your boyfriend shrugged, his chin on your chest and an impish smile on his lips as he stared up at you, “Just missed you.” Jongseong explained in a gentle tone.

There were multiple reasons for his homesickness, and one of them was the twelve-day business trip that he had to take to Russia, making your date on the weekend prior get canceled. You didn’t blame him for wanting attention.

“You’re cute when you’re all clingy like that,” pointing out, you made sure to leave a peck on his exposed forehead, nose, and lips.

With an uninterested ‘mhm’, he kept you in place by grasping the back of your head with a firm grip. Jay kissed you slowly — and a tad bit messily — to make good use of the short period he’d have with you until his next business trip. His plush lips didn’t leave yours for a second, occasionally nibbling on them up to when he had to pull away for air.

He leaned back on the couch, trying to create distance between you. However, his eyes never left your face, devouring every curve and contour as if you were the last meal he would ever have. “You’re pretty.”

“You sound like you just started to find me pretty.”

Jay huffed in disbelief at your taunt, a toothy grin and a nose wrinkle appearing, “Take a compliment, will you?”

“Alright. Thanks, then.” You shrugged and turned in his lap to grab your glass of wine by the coffee table. Taking a sip, you hummed at the feeling of Jay’s lazy kisses and pecks along your neck. “Needy, huh?”

“You entertain me.” He muttered back with a gentle bite to your skin, mentally patting himself on the back for the little yelp of surprise you let out.

Park kept pampering you during your small snack break, focused on being as doting as he could only until the oven’s timer ticked. His hand cupped your hips as you left his lap, making sure that you were balanced before letting go of you.

You got the tray out of the oven and carefully rested it on the well-decorated dining table. Your boyfriend approached you, chivalrously taking off the protection glove from your hand and pulling out the chair for you.

And as you both suited yourselves and enjoyed his cooking, you once again realized how much of a good cook Jay was.

“S’too good, Jay,” you mumbled with a finger hooked in front of your lips, munching happily on the absurdly good side dishes he made.

“Thank you, I know it is.” Jay proudly admitted, mostly joking around with you, but happy with the outcome of the plates.

You scoffed with a small grin, “No need to get all cocky now.”

“Maybe there is. I have a feeling my girl likes when I’m cocky.” He quipped back, showing that you really entertained him in his playful moments.

He used the dinner to fill you in the details of his trip that he didn’t say through text, feeling bashful whenever you gasped or quipped with a question.

Eventually, the conversation turned to his guitar, and soon he was strumming his favorite songs on the couch while you relaxed against him.

Seemed like it was about time you added Jay to the top of your ranking.

⠀ ⠀ SOOV © 2O24

STiCKY NOTES ⋄ for my biggest inspiration ever since animeblr HAPPY BIRTHDAY CAEL!! @boyfhee

[sexysadie23]

The Old Boys Club | Rafe Cameron

Author’s Note: Hiii! This is depraved. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. You are responsible for your own media consumption. I was watching The Batman and I loved the aesthetic of The Iceberg Lounge so that was the inspiration, alongside a Selina Kyle-esque waitress. Please enjoy. A Part 2 is possible :)

Tags: innocent!reader x older!rafe, CEO!Rafe, sleazy!JJ, sleazy!Kelce, sleazy!Topper, naive!reader, smallchested!reader, wife!reader, pre-established relationship, daddy kink

Warnings : I mentioned reader having a small chest, Highly misogynistic behaviour, mentions of alcohol, drugs and sex, corruption kink, minor bondage, unwanted adultery ig??

The lights were red and flashing, one blink after the other, blinding you for a millisecond when the flits of darkness overcame the haze of smoke and ignorance. The warehouse-turned-nightclub had so many people in it, too many, that there was no room for air. Each one surrendering themselves to the night. To the shadows which protected their guilty pleasures with a vengeance, hiding them from the shame that came with exposure.

Smoking, drinking, alcohol, drugs, sex. It was all blurred together into one unfocused scene where bodies became one and nobody cared for anything. Looking around at the mass of bodies and addictions, you realised why they clutched to the latter. For without them, the room would be unbearable.

You’d never understood the experience. Going to night clubs and staying out all night had never been on your radar, especially not with your conservative mother. She liked you in your room, cozied up with a book and tea.

That was all you had ever known. And it was something you came to enjoy. In college you were never the wild party girl, always too uncertain to feel safe at the scene. The rules your mother had set clung to you like a vine.

But that’s what he liked about you most. He’d had his days of partying to the point where he couldn’t remember his own name. He’d slept with the drunk girls who he’d regret afterwards every time. He’d done every drug under the sun. So when Rafe Cameron saw you, the sheltered, naive little doe that didn’t speak until spoken to - he was dazzled by what he saw - an opportunity.

That was unknown to you though. Rafe Cameron came into your life like a wrecking ball. A tall, strong, successful and welcomed wrecking ball. One that had you kept, that protected you and never left you wanting. You were wholly fulfilled now that you had met your soulmate, who worked day and night to provide a lifestyle that according to him, was everything you could need.

He’d been at the office since the early hours of the morning, too early for you to cook his breakfast and kiss him goodbye. It was a Friday night though which meant that straight after work, he went to Interlude. A lounge and nightclub that housed the city’s most notorious mob bosses. You hadn’t, and didn’t expect to see him until the morning.

That’s why you were surprised that his assistant called you, mid baking cookies, informing you that your husband wanted you to pay him a visit at the lounge tonight.

The request was odd, truly out of character. Rafe had laid down some ground rules, guidelines as he dubbed them - which you willingly obliged, and one of them was no alcohol, no drugs and no clubs. You could go to parties as long as he was in attendance.

Was this a test? You wondered for a second. But another rule was to trust and listen to Rafe. You figured it was better to go and find out than not go at all. Besides, you missed him already and it had been less than 24 hours since he was inside of you.

You got changed from your nightie into something more appropriate for leaving the house. You dawned a casual pink sundress, and slipped a black bow around your hair. Rafe preferred you in the feminine, and you’d come to enjoy it. You looked at your walk in closet and saw only flats. Another rule: No heels whatsoever. (He liked how small you looked beside him). You brought a jacket just in case. Having never been to a club, you didn’t no if it would be cold or not.

Yet when you made the distance from Rafe’s private driver into the club, it was then that you could feel the heat which controlled the room. It seeped into your skin and your lungs and you then decided that bringing a coat was a bad idea.

The lights continued to blind you until you saw someone, a waitress who was wearing a pink wig and, well, barely anything else by the looks of her diamante bra and mini skirt - which was more like a belt. You all of a sudden felt ridiculous in your sundress and became aware of how every woman in here was wearing sultry fabrics barely concealing their skin. Whereas you looked like you were ready for a picnic. These were the women Rafe saw on a regular basis?

The waitress’s eyes flitted toward your lost looking figure - doe eyes taking up half your face as your expression gave away that you were both scared and lost. They’d eat you up if you didn’t find who you were looking for. Lord knows you weren’t here for fun, that much the waitress could tell.

You could see her bejewelled heels clacking in your direction and you looked up to meet her eyes.

“You lost sweetie?” She asked, cocking her hip against the empty tray she held. Up close, you could see her bra stuffed with wads of cash.

“Um- yeah. I’m looking for someone. Do you know a-“ though you were cut off as a bunch of rowdy men in suits shoved you as they made their way through. You shrunk in on yourself while the waitress glared at the men. She smoky gaze returned to you,

“Sorry sugar. Guys in here can get carried away. Who d’ya need?”

You exhaled slowly before speaking again. “I’m looking for a business man. My husband. Rafe? Rafe Cameron? He told me to - to come here but I’ve been looking for 30 minutes and can’t see him.”

At the mention of the name Rafe Cameron, the waitress’ eyes dawned a screen of something. Something intangible. Like she all of a sudden knew something. She looked you up and down once more and nodded.

“Yeah I know him. He’s like our most important customer. You won’t find him in here though.” She nodded smugly as she looked over the balcony into the crowd.

You looked with her, disappointed. “Oh. Well do-“ you increased your volume, speaking over the club anthems and tilted your head up as she crouched to hear you better, “-do you know where I could find him, please?”

The waitress smirked and rolled her eyes. Of course Rafe married the girl next door type. You seemed sickeningly sweet. “Sure sweets. He’s in Havoc.”

At your confused reaction, she elaborated. “You know, the club within the club? It’s downstairs. Through those doors. Password is ‘10th Circle’. Say you’re with Rafe, and they’ll take you to’m.” She points you to a set of steel doors lined with 2 bodyguards.

You thanked her as she sashayed away. You approached the doors and the bodyguards looked you up and down - and laughed to one another. “No way, baby. VIPs only.”

You just wanted to see your husband. “10th Circle. I’m with- I am Rafe Cameron’s wife. He invited me.” You say holding up your phone to show your screensaver of you and Rafe at your small, intimate wedding. “See?”

The guards looked at each other with suspicion. Having the password must be enough though, because they opened the doors without any qualms. You heard something just before the slam of the seal shut. “Did you know he was married?”

You went down the stairs which was less crowded, but more sinful already. On the stairwell you passed men wearing suits whispering in women’s ears. Women who were blackout drunk, or close to it. Women who were being handed hundreds of dollars wearing fur coats and nothing underneath. Some of which looked to be enjoying it and some of them scared. You immediately felt unsafe.

You were cautious as you walked through; shoulders hunched as you tried not bumping into anyone, making yourself as unnoticeable as possible. Your out of place attire made that somewhat difficult. But then you were grateful, because finally someone, the one, recognised you.

“Fuck, here she is- Baby! I’m here!” Your husband shouted from a secluded corner. He was surrounded by other men, one with a girl on their arms. You recognised a few of them as being his associates. Topper and Kelce and JJ in particular.

You could tell he wasn’t drunk thankfully. None of them were as they focused on playing their card games. “Hi.” You said, not raising your voice for anyone else to hear. The music was much less quiet than the chaos of upstairs, much to your gratitude.

He grinned, pulling you towards his seated form, in between his manspread. “There you are, bunny. What took you so long?” You took his hand to intertwine your fingers with his, having missed his touch.

“Got lost, I thought you were upstairs but a nice lady helped me.” You said, basking in your husband’s gaze. “Aw honey. You hear that fellas? Lil bunny here got lost tryna’ find me.”

His friends laughed as they sifted through their cards. One sitting beside Rafe, JJ, looked up and took out his cigarette- effectively blowing it in your face. “Poor girl. You miss your husband, doll?”

Rafe barked out a laugh but you were distracted by lightly coughing out the smoke directed into your airways. “Of course she did man, can’t go more than a few hours without rubbing up on me. It’s like she’s an addict or something.”

You frowned once more. Why was he acting like this? Sure he’s usually controlling and has a more…masculine sense of humour. You usually didn’t mind, yet now you felt like everyone knew something you didn’t. But you supposed he wasn’t wrong. You weren’t ashamed to say that you loved your husband, that you needed him.

“Huh Bunny baby? You miss me? Who’d you miss?” His friends laughed a chorus of stifled chitters and some even “oohed”. Rafe squeezed your thigh, and you knew what he wanted.

“I missed you…” you looked around at his friends who waited for you avidly. Patiently. You felt like a fish in a fish-tank. “Daddy.” The private nickname had officially made its debut. You were embarrassed, but also more embarrassed by JJ who was now staring at your tits.

Rafe grinned which made you breathe a little lighter, your joints a little less coiled. He yanked you down to sit atop his leg, your own surrounding his right knee. His eyes flitted in amusement to his posse, “See that boys? Bet none of you got a bitch at home calling you that.”

“Nah, my girlfriend just told me the other day she doesn’t want kids. Like, what’s the point of us staying together then? Only thing a woman’s good for after all.” Said Kelce, with some large chested girl on his arm licking his ear. She laughed, along with Rafe and company, at his crude joke, which you found far from funny. “Well, maybe not the only thing,” he uttered before her hand gripped his knee.

“You gonna dump her then?” Asked Topper, Rafe’s CFO, who tilted his head as he assessed your legs. Your freshly shaved, shiny, short legs.

“Don’t know. She gives good head, so that’s definitely a factor. Maybe I should keep her around and until I try to find my future wife on the side, you know?” Kelce said taking a smoke of his cigarette. “What do you think?” He jutted his chin across the space to you.

In a weird synchronicity, everyone turned their heads to you, awaiting your input. There was a metaphysical spotlight on you and you tightened your hold on Rafe’s hand. He started to kiss up and down your ear, which was not helping how distracted you were.

“Um- maybe you could give her a chance? If you really like her enough to have her as your girlfriend it might be worth it to talk…with her.” You slowed, immediately regretting speaking at all as each man started to smirk and look at one another again.

“Jesus Rafe, where’d you even find this girl?She’s so…cute.” Settled Topper. You thought he was handsome, but nobody could compare to your husband. Rafe simply shrugged and chuckled in your ear before returning to his perusal. “Some dump she needed rescued from.”

Kelce sighed. “Why’d I even ask a chick? Not like they know anything. It’s either dumb, or dumber.”

You could hear Rafe huff out a laugh. “True. There’s nothing up here,” he tapped your temples, “except my name.”

You turned to ask him why he was acting like this. So not the sweet, protective Rafe you knew, “Raf-m!” Cut off, by Rafe shoving his tongue down your throat. You were stunned before you responded, avidly with passion.

At least one thing hadn’t changed about your husband, he still kissed you with the same enthusiasm. Perhaps, with even more than normal. When he eventually pulled away, you whined and your lips traced after him - uncaring of who was watching.

“That’s one way to shut em’ up when they get uppity. And that ain’t what you call me bun. How many times am I gonna have to remind you tonight? Cmon, use your head for once. Know it’s in there somewhere.” He held an intense eye contact with you.

“Give her a break, Cameron. She might need a minute.” Kelce slapped Topper’s shoulder as they both looked to you.

“Daddy…” You whined, then hid your face in your chest out of embarrassment. Rafe said that it wasn’t something you should call him in public, yet here he was. All gorgeous in his suit with his collar popped and tie loosened, commanding you as though you were in the bedroom back home.

The only indication that he was not mad at you was the pet names he bestowed upon you, ‘Bunny’ and ‘angel’ being your favourites. “Aw honey, Daddy’s just joking. Y’know you’re my best girl. Huh?” He felt you smile into his chest. “Huh?” He bounced his knee, digging into your pussy, and you nodded. You could feel your body clench.

“Rafe’s chick might have a point though Kelc. Maybe you should keep the broad around. She’ll probably change her mind about having kids.” Voiced JJ, whose eyes continually checked out your cleavage.

Rafe piped up as he massaged your scalp from the way you hid in his chest. “Yeah, girls hardly ever know what they want until we decide for them anyways. Plus, you’d have the kids and still get to keep the good head,”

“I mean look at Bunny here, she thought she was gonna be a nurse or something fore’ I came in. Only cost me two dozen or so grand to pay off her student debt and convince her to drop out n’ marry me.”

Every time Rafe brings that up you feel a sense of guilt. That was sooo much money. Maybe not to a multi-millionaire like him. But to small town you, it was everything. “Thank you, daddy.” In response, a kiss on the cheek.

Topper sat up, “Can you blame her? She’d be a good slutty nurse. Waiting on you hand and foot. There’s a halloween costume idea right there.”

Rafe turned to them, “As if she doesn’t already do that. Little girl knows where she belongs.” You didn’t have time to be confused as the sound and pain of Rafe roughly slapping your upper thigh sounded throughout the secluded corner. Your pussy wettened, and you wished you weren’t wearing thin underwear.

JJ, ever so wise with a big mouth JJ, had some advice. “Well the way I see it Kelce, you have options.”

“Uh-huh. And they are?”

“You could always switch out her birth control. Then she’s pregnant in no time and it won’t look like your fault, so she can’t be mad. Plus, chicks’ tits get bigger when pregnant. S’a win-win.” You couldn’t believe how awful the things that were coming out of these men’s mouths were. Were they always like this outside of work? Was Rafe like this outside of your marriage?

“You let your girl on birth control Kelc? Why?” Topper asked, genuinely perplexed at the notion of a woman controlling her own body.

“She had a whole bitchfit about it. Saying shit like how it helps her period pain and let’s her decide when she can have a baby or whatever. I don’t get it.”

They continued to drink and chat. “Hold on bunny baby,” Rafe shifted you side ways in his lap now so that your legs were fully facing JJ on his left. There wasn’t much room so JJ put your feet and calves atop his thigh, across his lap. You felt too shy to say no or remove them, and this genuinely was more comfortable.

Rafe noticed, but you didn’t, with all the shifting that your dress had twisted and was alarmingly close to revealing your underwear. You put your hands around Rafe’s neck and leaned in.

“Can I have a drink please? I’m thirsty.” You whispered in his ear. You were parched. Between the heat of the room and the heat building in your core you needed something to ground you.

Rafe smiled. “Sure. Hey,” he clicked his fingers at the girl on Kelce’s arm. “Double time. Vodka.” She left the area with haste.

“But Daddy- I wanted…you said I’m not allowed to dr-“

“Didn’t look like he asked for your two cents, princess.” Said Topper with a bored expression as he thumbed the neck of his beer bottle. You frowned. The blonde was usually nice to you at business events and in Rafe’s office.

“You speak when you’re spoken to around daddy’s friends Baby. Remember? Or do you need a reminder?”

Your eyes widened at the last time you were given a ‘reminder’. “N-no. I’m sorry I’ll just…”

Though his attention diverted from you as the shot was passed to your hand. “Now I know you’re just a girl, sweetheart. And you’ve never done a shot before so listen carefully. Can you do that for us?” Asked Kelce as JJ played with your socks. The condescension was not noticed by you.

You looked to Rafe, who nodded. So you turned your head to Kelce, careful not to spill the drink.

“Kay. So this stuff is really icky. You gotta drink it fast and swallow fast. You’ve had plenty of practice, so I’ve heard.”

You ignore the last comment and nod, looking at the clear liquid with determination. This is your chance to prove that you are a big girl and can handle things like alcohol. People always made fun of you for not drinking in college, so you needed the victory, even if just for yourself.

“Here, pretty baby. I’ll do one with you, okay? Ready? Go.” Your daddy said. Though you didn’t say it, you were grateful that he was supporting you.

To say the taste was awful was an understatement. It wasn’t so much the taste as the fumes that made your throat feel like it was on fire. You coughed, a lot. So much for proving you were a big girl and not some inexperienced baby unlike the rest of the sensual women around.

“Fuck, look at her. You alright dollface?” The insulting nickname flew over your head as you scrunched your eyes, though you could be sure it was JJ’s voice. He squeezed your ankle in a somewhat comforting gesture, but you could hear the guys and the girl laugh at how pathetic you were.

“Wh-why would you let me try that!” Tears dribbled down your face. The key word being “let”, as the guys noted.

Rafe growled, and laughed. “Don’t be such a fucking baby. In fact-“ he put his whiskey up to your pouty lips and made you drink it before you could protest. Again, disgusting. You sputtered some of it out and it dribbled down your chin and throat.

“Think she needs a bib boys?” Top jested, reaching over to chuck you under your chin. Other than Rafe, he seemed like the strictest of all. They each roared a laugh and you realised you were the butt of the joke. The punchline.

You continued to sniffle and leak some tears, looking around at what this truly was. You were an animal in the circus, simply there for entertainment. “Daddy, please…” you whined, tightening your hold on Rafe in the search of comfort.

“Don’t be sad sugar. If it’s any consolation, you’re even sexier when you cry.” Said JJ, as he took off your shoes one by one. He left on your white ankle socks, which he now noticed had love-hearts all over them.

You whimpered at the statement. Your throat felt raw and the wicked taste of mixing alcohols lingered in your mouth.

You were hyper aware of how wet you were in that moment, and couldn’t decide if you were whimpering out of pain, embarrassment or lust. You used your core to bounce on Rafe’s leg, enough to feel something yet too little for anyone to notice.

Rafe kissed your chin where the whiskey spilled. “That’s top shelf liquor you just wasted.” He licked your lip, groaning at the taste.

“S-sorry. Jus’ wasn’t expecting it. I’ve never really drank before.” You could feel your cheeks blush. Rafe loved PDA, and it had taken you a while to adjust to it.

“Hmm, you gonna make it up to me?” He teased. His hand travelled up to your braless chest and groped you, right in front of his friends. What the hell was happening.

“I don’t know,” said Kelce, looking at where Rafe’s hand was pressing your nipple. “I’m a fan of big tits. Not to the point where they look ridiculous, but definitely not as small as sweetheart, here.”

The guys all sounded as though they were heavily contemplating Kelce’s “insightful” comment and they turned to your chest, whereas you? You were just plain insecure now. You knew you didn’t have the largest bust, but was it really so much a factor?

“You’d be surprised,” said Topper. “Big tits can get in the way.” He scoffed, then returned to look at yours with a lustful eye.

“True,” JJ nodded, “plus small tits are just…I don’t know. They look more youthful. Perky, y’know? Definitely my preference.”

Rafe huffed out a laugh. “Me too, clearly.” You looked at him with a grimace, then down to your chest. “I have a theory that they’re more sensitive, though.”

“Oh yeah? What makes you think that?” JJ had toyed with your socks to the point where he’d taken them off completely.

Rafe eyed him, then gazed at you intensely before devouring your mouth in a kiss. You were confused, was there some mental signal he just sent to his business partner? How did that suffice as an answ-

“MMph!” You squeaked into Rafe’s mouth as pain overcame you. Rafe just pinched your nipples, with as much force as his hands could. His strong, manly hands… You were positive that your underwear had gained a wet patch on it now. You were less embarrassed about that than as to why you felt turned on in the first place.

You withdrew from Rafe’s mouth to stare at him, eyebrows scrunched in a hurt expression. Why would he do that? You looked at his lips and suddenly became distracted again. With your low tolerance, the alcohol was seeping into your mind and your impulse control was going haywire.

So, you jumped his mouth. Your tongue swirled around his as you let out a soft moan. His hand moved to slide along your inner thigh, and you panicked, moving it away in front of your too-keen audience.

Rafe loved how eager you were sometimes. You fucked like a rabbit, and your nose twitched in your sleep. Hence the nickname.

“Please not-not in front of them!” You whispered.

“Don’t worry. All friends here.” Said Kelce. “Nothing we haven’t seen before,” seconded Topper, who gave you a crude wink. Kelce high fives him and you were confused as to what they were referring to. Though you didn’t get to focus on the thought as you felt heaving tapping on your cheek.

“What the fuck did I say about speaking when spoken too, huh baby? You too fucked dumb from last night to follow a simple instruction?” Rafe said, growing annoyed. Sure, you were embarrassed. But that was nowhere near as bad as stepping out of Rafe’s meticulously drawn line.

“I just- I don’t know why you’re doing this in front of them. Don’t they all have girlfriends?” You wondered. Topper was married. Kelce had a girlfriend. JJ was, well he definitely had a girl. It was just a different one every week.

Rafe kissed your forehead, and said in a voice that was too saccharine- “I do it,” another kiss, “because” and another “I can, sweetie.”

A laugh bubbled from your throat at you squirmed, feeling a feather light touch as JJ drew his finger nails from the soles of your feet to your leg. You kicked a little, and turned in shock at the sensation.

“Come to Papa J, dolly.” He ‘come hithered’ with his fingers. “S’okay. Right Rafe?”

You looked to your husband, wondering exactly what was going on. Rafe grinned with that glint in his eye. “She’s all yours Jayj, careful though.” He said cruelly, before widening his manspread with haste. Effectively, letting you fall through his lap straight onto the floor between his legs. You yelped at the sudden motion and the sudden pain blooming around your tailbone. You wanted to say something, but you hadn’t been spoken to.

You used Rafe’s knee to stand up, barefooted on the plush rug of the club within the club. Blood rushed to your head. How drunk were you? You were now aware of how short your dress was. You weren’t sure what to do now.

JJ’s eyes traversed your figure head to toe. From the bow in your hair to your white pedicure. He looked hungry, like he was on a hunt. Were you being hunted? Is that what this was? Poached even, willingly by your own husband?

You thought of your marriage, of all the times Rafe had been sweet and the times were he’d been, dark. Salaciously dark. You knew they’d passed around ‘girls’ in the past, but just in the sense of sharing strippers. You were his wife. And JJ was his friend. They all were. Regardless of these mindless facts, you now knew who they were. Sleazebag playboys that objectify women. That use them.

And Rafe, your protector, was just going to throw you into the lion’s den with one of them?

Unless…you realised, looking at Rafe as he nodded for you to go towards his business partner, that your husband was one of them. That this whole time, your marriage had been the lion’s den.

You just didn’t know it until tonight.

Author’s Note: Let me know what you thought of this!

[wingedcat13]

Tell No Lies

[Part One of the third Synovus installment.]

Living on a tropical island didn’t mean the weather was always sunny.

Your island wasn’t in quite the right spot to really get the worst of the monsoon season - too far on the eastern side of the Pacific - but you did still get plenty of rainstorms. When that happened, your group of minions battened down the hatches, triple checked the generators, and usually played cards or other bored games. Sorry, board games.

Sometimes you played, sometimes you didn’t. You weren’t playing this time, because you were catching up on some reading. Sans costume, slumped sideways in a chair, one hand on the cup of hot chocolate you had requested and immediately forgotten about.

Then your phone had dinged.

That was weird, because during storms you didn’t usually have service - technology hadn’t yet beaten Mother Nature entirely. But there were the underwater cables that had been set up to provide internet access, and emergency calls.

And that was more than enough for an entity like Optix to get through when it wanted to. Even when your phone was set to silent.

With a small sigh, you had set the book aside and reached for the screen. An email from Optix: the subject line, in all caps, “INVITATION.”

Intriguing.

You opened it, scrolling past the gold-adorned letterhead to the digital party invitation. You read it. You deleted it. You reluctantly pulled it from the trash folder to read it again. You forced yourself to read it a third time.

‘Thank you for informing me.’ You replied to Optix, before sliding the phone away. The book came to rest comfortably against your chest, pages down, probably doing all kinds of damage to the spine. You stared up at the ceiling, ignoring the present to alternate between stewing over the possibilities of the future and miring yourself in the past.

Eventually, your field of vision had been interrupted by a slow-moving face, drifting in from your peripheral. One eyebrow raised, only inches from your own face, it continued moving slowly and smoothly past where most people would have reached a limit.

“Dude.” Alexandria said, “You haven’t even blinked in like. Two minutes.”

Your erstwhile ‘apprentice’ was using her abilities to float over you. Wearing her suit, which had been modified recently to include panels of bright color against the near-black gray you’d initially designed, she looked sleek and surreal. And older than seventeen, though maybe you just couldn’t judge ages past ‘young’ anymore.

“Hello, Menace.” You’d greeted her placidly. “How goes the Great Pacific Vandalism Project?”

Alexandria beamed, and floated away an inch or so to a more comfortable speaking range. She’d finally gotten a better handle on equilibrium in flight, so her gestures as she talked no longer caused her to wobble in whatever direction she indicated. “It went great! We finally managed to get that CEO.” Her grin widened, “Right in the middle of a press conference.”

“It was satisfying.” A different voice had agreed, as another costumed figure moved into your general field of view. This one didn’t lean over you, but rather settled into the chair opposite, and helped themself to your hot chocolate. Cold chocolate, by now.

A bit of concentration had changed that, as the thief raised the mug to consider it. Their dark blue form-fitting suit had changed in recent times as well, now featuring more delicate details around the neck and wrists. Not quite scales, not quite flourishes, not quite vines, picked out in a slightly darker shade. The short cape at the hips now had flared ends, rather than a pointed tip. It had an elegance that Menace’s suit lacked.

Or perhaps that was the wearer?

“Naiad.” You’d been certain that your tone hadn’t changed. “Welcome back.”

Minerva had lifted the stolen mug in salute, and allowed you a trace of a smile. Crime agreed with her - even if she only rarely agreed with it. Once the straight-laced, impeccable hero Athena, she was now known much more widely as the Naiad: a bioterrorist with a strong cult following among ecology groups.

Over the past year, she had very publicly and very precisely targeted companies who were responsible for much of the pollution going into the Pacific Ocean. Working alone at first, then allowing Menace to join her, she had made trips to the great garbage patches that floated in the ocean’s wide expanse, and returned their contents very directly to sender.

Cars, homes, persons, factories and distribution centers (while they were closed and no one was present; employees were innocent until proven guilty) were all fair game. The only way to be sure of immunity from the Naiad’s attacks was to publicly document cleanup efforts, make donations to the groups who did the same, and implement vast reductions in pollution.

It was good mother/daughter bonding time for the two of them. You knew your presence would only overshadow their efforts, so you simply offered aid and tips during the planning phases. And there was the standing unspoken fact that you would appear to bail them out, if it ever became necessary. So far, it had not been necessary.

Minerva had even admitted, grudgingly, that this new angle on life was, at times, fun.

And that, really, plus the trace of a smile, is what had given you a terrible idea.

—------------------------------

What was even more terrible was that Minerva had agreed.

She stood now at your shoulder, just a step behind, while your invitation was inspected by a man who had gotten very tense at your approach. His costume was patterned in pale yellows and purples, a strip of rainbow draped over his collarbones. You couldn’t make out much expression behind the mask, but you didn’t really need to when you could hear the material creaking as he prepared to square up.

“I am… confused.” He allowed, considering the printed invitation. “You - do know this is a hero’s wedding, right?”

“I’m aware.” You answer flatly, the helmet giving you a wonderfully crisp punctuation. You’ve made only the slightest concessions to the event’s formality in the form of a nicer, gilt-edged cape with decorative clasps, and white rose corsages at your wrists to indicate your intention of peace. “I don’t begrudge you the confusion, Sun Dog. I will be grudging if you attempt to deny me entry.”

Sun Dog hesitated a moment more. You really didn’t want to hurt the man, no one you knew of did - which was probably why he was the bouncer at this particular event. It was hard to hate the person whose sole job was disaster response and relief.

Just when you were resigning yourself to this going poorly at the gate, Naiad leaned forward over your shoulder. Her costume had been adapted to include a floor-length skirt in a blue ombre, slit to the thigh on the sides and revealing the usual suit’s leggings beneath, and her arms were bare to the shoulder except for jewelry in the places of her normal accents. She’d pinned her hair up with sea-shell and coral pins, with deep purple pearls for earrings. You stopped breathing, attempting to be as still as possible to prevent any of those decorations catching on part of your ensemble.

“Parhelion. We’ll cause no trouble.”

The name clearly meant something to him. Sun Dog’s body language changed, shifting rapidly through a few shades of things you didn’t know him well enough to identify. None of them were hostile, though, so you gave the man his moment to process.

“I… had my suspicions, but…” Sun Dog shook his head, “Sorry. Not the time or the place. Glad you’re alright - Naiad, is it?” At her confirming nod, he continued, “Anyway, the invitation is legitimate, I’m just surprised you actually came. Uh. Guest book is ahead, gift table to the left. Good luck?”

You nodded regally and moved further into the venue, gaudily bedecked in white and taupe and glittering silver and gold. At the guest book, you confined your signature at first to the simple stylized S that was popular among bored schoolchildren. Naiad signed more gracefully, and pressed the pen back into your hand. You contemplated stealing it to make a point, but added the remaining letters to your name in a normal script instead.

Naiad was also the one to place your gift - a small black box with a silver ribbon - among the bright and shiny assortment of well-wishes, though that was more a matter of practicality. If you’d put it there, everyone would’ve assumed it was a bomb.

And the entire time, you were surrounded by people in costume. Some had made little to no alteration to their standard getups. Others had clearly commissioned outfits specifically for this event. Those who were part of the wedding party were all in what felt to you like mockery of their usual garb; the same shapes and silhouettes, but in shades of champagne and adorned with glitter, their masks or helms altered to match each other.

You didn’t stand out as much as you might’ve. There were heroes who dressed in dark colors and full-coverage helmets. It was the cape that really made your silhouette distinctive, which was why you’d shortened it from its usual wide floor-length to a slimmer, knee-length drape. And besides, who would invite Synovus to a wedding? Particularly this wedding?

Abruptly, you wished that changing your outfit hadn’t felt like so much of a concession, a surrender. You wished that you could’ve hemmed and hawed between narrow or wide skirts, short or long sleeves, backless or high necked. Layers of chiffon, of deep blue with tiny flickering gems in blues and greens and purples, a clear blue sash at the waist, or perhaps a shawl around the shoulders -

But that kind of wishful thinking is what got you here in the first place. The moment passes. Your suit is familiar, fitting, and practical. The rosettes at your wrists feel like chains.

You hear the first whispers from one of the bright costumes around you. Is that Synovus?

You turn to Naiad, “We should find our seats.”

—-------------------------------

You were, rather mercifully, seated to the back and one side, in a portion of the room not quite as well lit. The set up was rather traditional, with everyone split down rows, and the aisle in the center. You were on the bride’s side, and couldn’t honestly have said what the name of the groom was.

A few of the heroes had taken to eyeing you. Before they could investigate or act on their suspicions blindly (you knew which one you thought was more likely), the music started.

And the lights went out.

Your hand found Naiad’s in the darkness, and you lifted it to your helmet so she could feel you shake your head. Not me. Your power was quiet, the shadows entirely natural. You remained still, watching the attendees shift and begin to whisper. Most of them must have been warned ahead of time - prudent, considering how many of these people you’d fought. How many of them had you given a fear of the dark?

When a light appeared, it was not natural, nor electric. Nor was it yours. A pale silver glow began at the foot of the aisle, illuminating from beneath one high heel. Then another. On the next step, the first light began to float, turning from a spot on the floor into a small orb of light. Others joined it, like so many small sparkling stars.

In this way the bride, the hero Dazzler, made her way down the aisle.

You had to admit, it was a stunning display. On occasion, one of the lights would twirl around her, granting tantalizing glimpses of her dress and playing off the crystals in her hair. The pale silver glow was soft and alluring, and in the darkness of the room, it made her seem as though she were a deity of creation; the steps she took forming reality in her wake.

At the altar, she paused, to hand off her bouquet. Then she turned to face the crowd, raised her hands, and called all of the globes of light to encircle her and the man in a suit who was presumably her groom. They formed the shape of a heart, then faded as the room’s lights came back on.

Everyone oohed and awed appropriately. Naiad shifted, and you realized you still held her hand. Without conscious thought, your grip had tightened. Abruptly, you let go.

The two of you sat in silence as the ceremony began.

—----------------------------------

Once everyone had moved to the tables, you actually thought you might get through this without being officially recognized by anyone other than Sun Dog. That was both a relief, and mildly insulting.

Naiad had given you questioning glances since you had left the ceremony, but you’d yet to provide an answer. You’d warned her before you arrived that you would speak as little as possible once inside the venue - your voice would certainly give you away. Naiad had said that was the consequence of being a monologuer. You’d protested, vociferously, because it was true.

But as the guests were mingling, the open bar being besieged, the instant your shoulders started to relax, there was a high pitched shriek from somewhere behind you. Not a shriek of terror or anger or surprise. One of joy.

Of course.

The syllables of your name filled the air, broken into three and a half parts. There was a frantic rustle of cloth and the rapid clicking of heels. Then arms wrapped around your middle, and a heavily perfumed, glittery weight slammed into you.

You, very judiciously, did not move.

“I’m so glad you came!” Dazzler gushed, moving around in front of you. She let her arm trail as she did, so that she never lost contact with you. You felt like you were being circled by a shark. Up close, the makeup and glitzy hair-pieces felt like an attack. “You never RSVP'd! I’d almost given up hope!”

You still had not moved, even to turn your head. Dazzler pouted at you, and you tried to ignore that you knew she was just looking at herself in your helmet’s reflection. Around you, half the guests had abandoned their chairs or their place in line at the bar, half-starting, ready to leap into action. Every single pair of eyes in the place was fixed on the two of you.

And you knew that this was exactly why Dazzler had invited you. You’d known when you received the invitation. You knew when you decided to attend. Because this kind of bullshit was exactly why you’d harassed her into moving to a different continent.

“Many felicitations, Diane.” You reply, as though she isn’t doing her damnedest to make a scene. As though she’d cornered you in a hallway, instead of the middle of the banquet hall. “I get invited to so few parties - I can’t imagine why.”

Laughing, Dazzler moves to swat you on the arm, and transitions from that to looping her arm through yours. “Oh, Syn. People just don’t know you, that’s all! Come on, say hello to everyone with me, it’ll-”

You have no intention of being dragged off by Dazzler to become arm candy. But before you can find a way to elegantly maneuver out of the situation, Naiad is stepping between you.

“Perhaps things have changed since my wedding.” Without a filter, Naiad’s voice is not far off from Athena’s. She’s taking a terrible risk to do this, that someone will identify her by her past persona and its questionable end. But Athena never took quite that tone of condescension. “But greeting the guests is typically something one does with their groom.”

“Oh.” Dazzler steps away, a tiny frown creasing her brow. She’s not used to having competition. Not used to being thwarted by anyone who isn’t you. Still, she recovers quickly, laughing again and holding the back of one hand to her forehead. “Of course! With all the preparations and everything, I forgot there’s so many steps! You must remember, right? All the decisions you have to make, and then there’s so many people here -”

Again, Naiad cuts her off, “Then we wouldn’t want to monopolize so much of the bride’s time. Happiness - and many years of it - to you both.”

She raises an arm to your back, and automatically, you reciprocate. It makes you a unified front, automatically reinforcing her words. You know everyone here will remember this. Naiad is now permanently associated with Synovus.

“Be well, Dazzler.” You add, so no one will think this is some kind of catfight you allowed to happen. You’re not sure that thought was coherent, actually, but saying something seemed important at the time.

Together, you and Naiad turn away, moving to your assigned seats in a corner. The rest of the room is silent, except for the music no one thought to pause. Dazzler’s bridesmaids - most of them heroes themselves - swarm her, whispering furiously.

Dazzler raises her voice to be heard by everyone when she responds, “Oh, we used to date.”

———————————

“I dislike that I can’t even call that woman a menace without besmirching my daughter’s name.” Naiad said, some time later.

The two of you had sat in silence while the room slowly restored itself to a cautious order. No one had forgotten you were there, but some seemed to accept that you were here peacefully. Given that you were not going to remove your helmet, and therefore could not actually consume anything, both you and Naiad had eaten before you came. This also spared the nervous waitstaff the task of servicing your - otherwise empty - table.

You let out a long, slow exhale, below what your helmet will verbalize. “Calling her anything will please her, in the end. Any attention is good attention, and if it lets her play the virtuous victim, all the better.”

Naiad glances back at you, gauging something. “She fooled you?”

You wince, attempt to communicate something solely by facial expression, and fail utterly because you’re wearing a helmet. How to describe what you’d seen in Dazzler once?

“I…. Wanted very badly to be someone worth effort. She caught me by surprise. It wasn’t until much later I realized she actually believed….” You break off, grimacing.

Naiad’s head tilts in a way that suggests she’s raising her brows at you. “Believed you loved her?”

“No - no, I knew she thought that. I wasn’t - I was young.”

These had been the days before Rosie, before Doll. Before there had been anyone but you, still running from and hunting any of Sunhallow’s surviving lieutenants. Nineteen and alone and then suddenly there was someone telling you otherwise, someone with a power of light so like and so different from your father’s.

“She felt.” You say finally, “That we were… destined. Her light, to my darkness. That I was… tameable.”

It had taken some years of retrospection to put the pieces together, but you had. Dazzler had wanted a tame villain; proof she was worth loving enough that it erased your identity in the process. Justification for everything she was, because she was the ‘good’ half. The ‘pure’ one.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Naiad mutters. She raises one hand, as though to pinch the bridge of her nose, but settles for bracing against the mask’s thick material.

“That too. But as I said - we were young.” Your voice was dry, and a little bit weary. Dazzler exhausted you, even now.

“Does she-?” Naiad cuts herself off, looking to re-affirm that Dazzler (and her groom) are on the other side of the room. Still, she lowers her voice, “Does she… know, then?”

Your laugh is bitter, but it is a laugh, “No. No, I got away before she learned all my secrets.”

You tap the table, curving your hand to make a small alcove where only you and Naiad can see your palm, and summon a small flicker of light. Then you let your hand fall flat again, extinguishing it.

“I am complete without her, by whatever metric you care to use.”

Naiad nods, accepting that explanation. There had been glasses of water on the table when you arrived, and she’d pulled one closer to claim it. You can tell she’s thinking by the way she traces its rim. You can tell she’s upset in some way by the way the water in the glass rises to follow her movement.

“How’d you explain the tattoo?” She asks mildly.

“She never saw it. I think she believes I have scars I don’t want anyone to see.”

A tattoo was a kind of scar, in a way, so it hadn’t been a lie. And it had fit with the image of you Dazzler so wanted, for you to have been broken and abused. Ashamed.

Naiad narrows her eyes, “If you were lovers, then-“

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to, my dear.”

She leans back in her seat, taking the glass with her. She sips at the water and surveys the crowd. You pretend not to be surveying her. Dazzler was not a secret, per se, but the details of how you’d felt about it are not something you’ve ever shared.

You need to stop giving Minerva your secrets. Particularly when she doesn’t realize how many of them she holds.

The music is upbeat and space-filling. Loud enough that conversations are confined to their groups, but not loud enough you have to shout to be heard. You’re pretty sure this song is on one of Menace’s playlists - something by Chappell Roan.

“Synovus, why are we here?” Naiad asks finally. You willingly give up any attempt to identify the song to consider the question.

“Because I’ve never been to a wedding. Well, no, that’s not quite true. I’ve never been a guest at a wedding.”

Naiad’s gaze drifts to the middle distance, and she downs the remaining water like she wishes it was something stronger. You silently slide another glass over towards her - they set the tables for six apiece.

“Whose wedding were you in?” She asks, making conversation.

“Mine. Technically.” It’s a long story.

Minerva - no, Naiad, you need to think of her that way in the field - had been toying with the stem of the second glass. Now she stopped, becoming very still. At first, your attention pivots to your surroundings, searching for the threat.

Then Naiad says, flatly, “Explain.”

“It wasn’t - like this.” You wave a hand. “I - this was after Dazzler. There wasn’t - I’m not still married.”

“Synovus.”

“It lasted a week, as we’d agreed at the start, the identities were fake, and we swore to never speak of it to each other again.”

It had been a last grasp at normalcy. You didn’t have a social security number, you hadn’t had a community in which to undergo rites of passage that weren’t geared towards Sunhallow. You’d never been to a public school or a prom or a fucking football game. But getting Vegas married and having a honeymoon, then immediately divorcing?

Well that you could do.

“Who did you even do this with?” Naiad asks, flabbergasted and possibly appalled.

“Ah.” You wish you could sip water, to buy yourself time. “Tallflawes.”

Naiad’s outraged, “What?” Is drowned out, however, by the sound of shattering glass, as a blurred figure drops through the roof.

———————————

It’s a bad idea to crash a wedding. Lots of people, most of them easily rallied to at least half the attendees’ defense. It’s worse when more than half the guests have superpowers.

The good news was that no one had to worry about the falling glass - there were four or five different barriers flung up immediately.

The bad news was that it was absolute fucking chaos for five minutes. You hope no one attending had epilepsy.

You, of course, had no intention of intervening. This wasn’t your doing, you were going to be blamed for it regardless, so you might as well enjoy the show. But then you’d recognized the invader as Prodigy. And he was alone.

And the only thing he was yelling, over and over, was your name.

So you stood, removing the white rosettes at your wrists as casually as someone adjusting cuff links. You called to the shadows you’d been keeping at bay. You dialed up the volume of your helmet’s speaker.

And as everyone in the room except Naiad - including Prodigy - found themselves wrapped in solid darkness, you bellowed into the room,

“BE SILENT.”

You also had a small loop of shadow kill the music, because you never did a thing by halves.

As the room suddenly quieted, Prodigy came to drift in the middle of the space. The hum of his hoverboard was the loudest thing in the room at the moment. He wasn’t even struggling against your bonds.

And when he neither complained nor cracked a smile, only looking at you with wide wild eyes and tendrils standing on end, you felt your stomach drop. You knew even before he said, “They’re coming, Synovus! My homeworld - they sent a ship!”

——————————————

[I did say this was the one where they went to space. Buckle up, everybody, it’s time to dance!

Which Chappell Roan song is playing? Whichever one you personally believe is funniest and/or most tragic. Tag it!

Links to Ao3.]

[sinsmockingbird]

Hello hello I hope this ask reaches you well because I'm very not well thinking about rich alpha ptn women aka Eirene Chelsea and Cabernet share a lil omega together 🥵🥵

You're a freshly recruited omega who's responsible for working in the MBCC's cafeteria. The job is simple, you stay behind counters to serve the Sinners their meals and wait until they leave to clean the area. The bureau pays you well, enough to make ends meet every months but in your mind, you know you can achieve more than this.

In the first few weeks you do job perfectly, and even make friends with some Sinners. One of them is the famous Cabernet Franc, daughter of one of the riches families in Eastside. Cabernet clearly has an interest in you, her lust keeps growing stronger and stronger but before she can sweep you away, you magically disappear from your job in the cafeteria. When she discovers that you've resigned to work for the Quinn Industry, she knows she has to have a personal talk with the Eirene Quinn.

Chelsea thought she found you first, a naive, innocent and unmated omega who's working hard to earn money in the bureau. Immediately she takes you under her wings, telling you to be her mate and she will provide you an endless amount of money! When you reluctantly refuse, saying that you would rather be financially independent and that the Quinn CEO has already promised you a position in her company, Chelsea is absolutely furious. How dare the woman steal you from her?

On the other hand, Eirene is very pleased that she has the upper hand in keeping you to herself. You come to her cell all by your own, personally asking her about the vacant positions in her company without fears that she may tear your life into threads. Your determination and willingness to have a stable job in her company amused her, but it was your sweet odor of purity attracted her. It didn't take much effort to trick you into working as her "private secrectary", you were just so oblivious to the alpha's hungry stare. Eirene is the woman of conquer, so when she sees something she wants, she will get it. But why do you come into her office, according to her request to give you a brief explanation of work (a lie ofc), with two angry alphas follow quietly behind?

As a result, you are trapped in a same room with 3 intimidating alphas who're trying to kill each other to win over you. You're freaked out at the scene before you, wanting to run away and hide. But before you can take one step away from their gaze Chelsea makes an offer: "Why don't we share this little one?" The other two look at each other in silence, then nod their head in agreement.

The only one who seems to disagree is you, though. Being mated to not one, but three alphas at the same time, how can your body withstand the rough treatment? You try to run again, only to be caught in Cabernet's vines and being tied up in an embarrassing position: legs spread out on the head, hands on your head, immobile. Three pair of eyes stare at your clothed body making you instinctively squirm, their pheromones being spread you cause your heat to overcome your senses, then in a blink of an eye you are begging them to touch you desperately.

Half an hour later you have Chelsea behind your back, thrusting in and out of your ass and playing with your nipples, Eirene on her knees in front pushing her cock into your mouth, and Cabernet hungrily taking your pussy. Although the alphas still hate each other, they all decide that pleasing the omega together is their priority and tone down the hatred. Why would they fight when they have a needy girl to dote on like this? By the time each woman has their full, you've passed out from exhaustion and overstimulation, leaving to clean up the wet mess on the bed, full of their cum. Eirene plugs your pussy up, telling the other two that whoever your first child is can have you to themselves for an entire week.

They never back down from a challenge, so prepare yourself to be absolutely ravaged in the next months...

Oh god, this is so hot. Like I can completely see Cabernet getting pussy drunk off you. She's eating you out, her little Omega, like your a fucking feast, and you are! She would happily eat you out for hours, not caring if you've long passed out, she's just addicted to your taste, and you can't blame her! She'd be fucking/humping her cock into the bed, and she doesn't need any stimulation on her pretty cock, because tasting your cum is enough to get her off.

Chelsea is pathetic when it comes to you, her shared Omega. She can be possessive, wanting to mark you up with her teeth and nails, to try and show claim that your hers- even though she does share you with two other women. She's the one mainly fucking you with her cock, giving you endless creampies, because she doesn't ever want to pull out of your pretty pussy.

Eirene is probably the most dominant out of the three, and she's the one who sees you the most, considering you work with her. Being her private secretary means you're usually under her desk in her office, having her cock shoved down your through, making you suck her off and cockwarm her with your mouth. She also loves fucking you against the wall of windows in her office, making you stare at the bustling street below while she's fucking you rough and fast and staining your soaked pussy with her cum.

@sea-lanterns You'll love this because it has your wife, Cabernet.

[ki-yomii]

i'm thinking about you | myg

➥ pairing | min yoongi x f!reader

➥ word count | 2.2k

➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, sugadaddy!yoongi, sugarbaby!reader, mild daddy kink, teasing, against the window, confessions, begging, pet names, gentle dom!yoongi, feelings

➥ summary | “You got all dressed up and pretty for me? Fuck, you’re such a good girl.”

➥ notes | 🫡 i too would like to sue min yoongi. i left this pretty ambiguous as to what it is yoongi does for a living so imagine whatever you like (canon, ceo, etc).

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

Tucked away in a Seoul high rise, you stand before a wall of windows and watch the bustling nightlife down below; the hazy glimmer of neon lights entrancing as people move from bar to bar in dense groups.

So high up, nearly touching the clouds themselves, it feels like a completely different world. The ground below so small and insignificant as your thoughts drown in nostalgia and fancy French wine (from a brand you can’t even pronounce).

You tried the robust blend several months ago on an outing to one of the exclusive restaurants around town, and promptly fallen in love with its sweetness.

You figured it would be a once in a lifetime try - one you’d remember fondly years later - only to be surprised as Yoongi bought out the winery as a belated birthday present.

Now there’s always a bottle ready and waiting in his apartment for whenever you visit. In fact, Yoongi plans on taking you to visit the French countryside sometime soon, take you on a tour of the vineyards and let you sample the lush grapes straight from the vine for yourself…

All because you mentioned liking it in passing when he asked.

He certainly knows how to make you feel special - money no object when compared to your heart’s desire.

When you first started this relationship, you were only expecting it to last for a few months, just long enough to catch up on your debts.

Now it’s going on two years and you couldn’t be happier albeit slightly disappointed it hasn’t progressed to more. But you’ll take what you can get.

After all, Yoongi’s been so good to you - for you.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding.”

You hum, taking another slow sip of your wine as broad palms slide over your hips. Fingertips brush the tops of your thighs, tease at the silk of your dress.

“I wasn’t hiding, you’re just bad at looking,” you say with a grin, “think you might need to get your eyes checked, Grandpa.”

Yoongi snorts, his breath puffing across the sensitive skin of your throat. “You’re such a brat sometimes, you know that?” He drags his nose along the curve of your shoulder, inhaling deep. “Fuck, you smell good. The Valentino?”

“Mhm,” you reply, hiding your smile behind the rim of your wine glass. “And it’s okay, isn’t it? Because I’m your brat.”

Before he can snark back, you offer up more of your neck and grind back into his hips, luxuriating in the low moan that vibrates through his chest, and the twitch of his cock against the soft fat of your ass. 

Hands clamp down on your waist, tugging you more firmly against his chest and Yoongi growls. You shiver from the sting of his teeth nipping at your earlobe.

“Careful, baby,” he warns, voice full of smoke and whiskey, “Don’t start something if you can’t keep up.”

“Don’t you like it though?”

You pout, rolling your head back onto his shoulder to gaze at the sharp lines of his profile. Your eyes greedily track the flutter of his lashes, the swipe of his tongue across his plush lips.

“I thought you would.”

Yoongi chuckles, the sound low and husky where its smothered in the curve of your shoulder. “Such a smart girl. You’re right,” he peppers kisses up the side of your throat, “I do love it.”

You hum, eyes closing as the world spins softly.

Your head is pleasantly fuzzy, the expensive scent of his cologne pleasant and clouding your thoughts with every inhale. The stem of the wine glass rolls between your fingers, the glass long since empty.

“Hn, now that’s interesting. What’s this, baby?”

Broad palms inch the hem of your dress up until the fabric pulls taut around your hips, cool air teasing over the soaked lace between your thighs. The lingerie you chose for tonight is on full display, tiny and sheer; barely covering your mound. 

“You got all dressed up and pretty for me? Fuck, you’re such a good girl.”

“Yes,” you breathe, “all for you.”

Teeth nip at the corner of your jaw as Yoongi grabs the empty glass from you, and sets it on the table. You watch in the glass as the dark blur of his reflection shifts behind you, before a strong forearm hooks over your hip and a broad hand dips down between your thighs.

“Mhm, that’s right. You’re my gorgeous girl,” Yoongi says, his voice rumbling against your ear. “Aren’t you?”

Fingertips sneak beneath the lace, the back of his hand stretching out the waistband as he slips into your panties and brushes over the hood of your swollen clit.

You’re so wet, he glides over the top of your slit nice and smooth, the callouses providing rough friction to slippery, delicate flesh.

Pleasure hooks behind your navel, and your gut clenches hotly. You shudder, your shoulders curling in on yourself as you whine, “Y-Yoongi!”

He tsks, using the ball of his thumb to grind down on your clit harshly, “You know better than that. What do you call me when we’re like this, baby?”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, your hips trying to jerk away from the uncomfortable pressure.

“’m sorry,” you mumble, nibbling at your bottom lip, “’m sorry, Daddy.”

Yoongi rumbles in approval, his touch softening until he’s gently stroking back the hood and gliding down to rub along your folds. “Good girl.”

The praise shoots through you, makes you widen your stance and rock back against his growing erection. Your ass cradles his cock, and you feel him twitch as the soft cut of his suit drags over your bare skin.

“Shit, you’re so wet already.”

There’s no doubt you’re leaving a damp patch on the crotch of Yoongi’s expensive slacks, but between the talented flicks of his fingers and the rolling thrusts of his hips, you’re beyond the point of caring.

If anything, you know the evidence of how soaked he gets you riles him up even more. He loves when you’re wet and messy.

“So fucking perfect for me,” Yoongi husks, “Can’t wait to feel this pretty little pussy gushing around my cock.”

You squirm, arch your back. “Please,” you say, “Want it so bad.” It’d be a lie if you said you haven’t been wet for hours, thinking of all the wicked things you’d do tonight. Yoongi’s been on a trip overseas, and video calls can only satisfy you so much. You’ve missed being with him in person, being pampered and loved so sweetly.

Not even several months ago, you were surviving on a diet of ramen, and string cheese. You lived in a shitty apartment with three other girls, and nearly all of your money went towards bills.

Living paycheck to paycheck, you were surviving - and barely at that. Everything you did revolved around how much it cost, if you could afford it, if you wanted food or fun.

More often than not… you couldn’t, so you went without.

Now finances are an abstract concept.

There’s new designer dresses for every day of the week, shopping trips to Myeong-dong, tiny entrees that cost more than a month’s rent, and a beautiful Seoul apartment you share with a man that utterly loves to dote on you.

Min Yoongi is, without a doubt, one of the most selfless, magnetic people you’ve ever met. And you adore him for all those reasons and a million more.

“Please.”

The pleasure all at once too much and not enough. Your pussy aches, swollen and tender. You’ve gotten so used to cumming on Yoongi’s cock that without it, it’s hopeless to try - left clinging to the edge by your fingernails.

“I need - I can’t -”

“Shh, it’s alright.” A chuckle, low and dark with satisfaction sounds close to your ear. “I never said you couldn’t cum, so go ahead.”

“No, I can’t! Need you, Daddy.”

“Mm, I didn’t hear you. Come on, tell me what you need, pretty girl.”

“H-hah, want your cock. Shit, please, please, please. Give it to me.”

At your response, Yoongi retreats.

The loss cuts through you, your pussy throbbing in time with your heartbeat. Slick soaks your shaking thighs, and your knees wobble. You wouldn’t be surprised if you’re making a mess on the hardwood. Normally, you can’t control yourselves once you get your hands on each other. Whether it’s because of the time you were apart or something else, this teasing is exquisite torture.

You don’t know how to handle it - have never had to before. Yoongi’s very giving, and while he’s made you work for it before, he’s never made you beg - not like this. ”No, no, no!” You protest, squirming in the arms caging you against the window, trying to wiggle him back to where you want him. “Please…”

“Are you saying my fingers aren’t enough for you?”

You can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

“Yoongi - Daddy - please,” you grab one of his hands and shove it between your thighs, “feel how wet you make me. I love your fingers but I wanna cum on your cock. It’s been so long...”

Groaning, the man presses a kiss to your temple, “Shit, I missed this. Missed the way your sloppy little pussy feels around my cock.” Before you can share the sentiment, his hands disappear and the sound of a zipper comes from behind. Anticipation swells, stoking the embers of your desire.

A palm plants itself between your shoulders. It presses down, and you go with the movement, cheek coming to rest against the chilly glass of the window as Yoongi bends you over.

He rubs a thumb along the length of your neck, peppering the exposed skin with kisses. You shiver, the points of contact prickling with awareness.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathes, “and I’m gonna show you just how much I missed you. Ready baby?”

You nod, not trusting your ability to speak, and then your panties are tucked to the side once more.

He’s suddenly right there and you lose your ability to breathe. He works the fat head of his cock into you inch by inch until he’s seated deep inside.

You both release held breathes with a moan.

Your hands slap the glass, fingers scrabbling for purchase, weak-kneed. You’re so full of him. The burn of the stretch adds to the pleasure coursing through you.

Yoongi’s no better.

Hands knead your ass as his body shakes with restraint. He does his best to give you time to reacquaint yourself with his size but even he can’t stop the tiny flexes of his hips.

A bitten off, wounded sounds escapes him when you unconsciously clench down, walls milking his shaft.

“Fuck baby, you can’t do that, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Daddy, please, I want it,” you whine, tentatively rocking back into the cradle of his body. “I can take it. Promise.”

Yoongi closes his eyes and grits his teeth. “Baby…”

“Come on, Daddy, give it to me.”

Another clench has his restraint snapping. He kicks your feet apart. Hands like steel bands lock around your hips, strong fingers grabbing hold and jerking you back onto his cock.

He sinks deeper into you with the movement, every possible inch buried inside.

He groans, low and filthy.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whimper.

“Just remember you asked for it, baby,” he grunts. “Now hold on cause I’m not stopping even if you cry.”

He sets a brutal pace, hips rutting forward without mercy. All you can do is hold on for the ride, trapped between the hardness of his body and the smooth glass that’s quickly becoming foggy and smeared with condensation.

The lights of the city glitter like stars in your eyes as Yoongi takes you apart piece by piece, the sloppy sound of him fucking you fast and hard, his deep moans and your breathy sighs echoing through the apartment.

“Hng, not gonna last long,” he says through a grunt, his head dropping between your shoulders with a pant. Even so, his hips never miss a beat. “Gonna cum.”

“M-Me too.”

Every throb has your toes curling. Your head goes fuzzy, the insides of your thighs wet with slick. You’re in a tailspin, headed right for the peak.

Yoongi groans, “Fuck, I love you.”

The confession has your eyes snapping open and cumming unexpectedly hard. You shatter, body tensing up, mind going blank.

The revelation of Yoongi’s words float at the edge of your consciousness. You’re vaguely aware of a blooming warmth, and cum dripping down the backs of your thighs when he pulls out. The world is hazy as you slump against the window like a doll whose strings have been cut, forehead resting against the cool surface.

Yoongi is plastered against your back, chin hooked over your shoulder. His breath fogs up the glass beside your face.

“You don’t have to say it back..” He presses a kiss to the jut of your cheekbone. “I don’t want you to say it unless you mean it.”

Your eyes crack open, and you meet his gaze in the reflection. A small smile curves up the corners of your lips, and you stroke the likeness of his cheek in the glass.

Your gaze is fond when you reply, “Love you too, Yoongi.”

[highwehyrat]

Captain Leonard Burns!!!!🤭🤭🤭

CEO of the Dilf Association. A man aged like the finest french wine, made with grapes from the finest grape vine.

This man could tell me to jump and I'd ask how high with absolutely no hesitation. Brat tamer in the making. If you do somehow find the audacity to go against his word, trust you will be dealt with.

Those flame calloused, heat ridden, massive hands of his will put you right back in your lane. Just a singular smack on your ass cheek will have you begging for his mercy.

Captain Leonard Burns!!!!!

Who requires you to beg his stubborn ass for four to five business days to let you ride him.

Who finds amusement in watching you struggle to sink onto him, chuckling silently to himself as he sees your face contort slightly into one of concentration.

He watches you closely as you gyrate your hips up and down on him, his piercing eyes taking in every inch of your body.

The moment he feels you've adjusted well enough to him, and you've had your fun in control, he holds onto your hips and begins mercilessly pounding back into you. The fucked out look on your face only fueling him to go harder.

He's growling like a feral animal in your ear as he feels his release near. He sinks his teeth into your shoulder as thick ropes of his pleasure add to the tender warmth of your interior.

After he bathes your sore body, he slides into a fresh set of sheets with you lying atop his body. He sips a glass of whiskey as he listens intently to you complaining about how he took over despite agreeing to let you have the night in control.

He discretly licks his lips at you mentioning having to do this night all over again some other time cause you didn't manage to do everything you had set aside for him.

[spade-riddles]

Submission:

💛 I like the Gracie theories!

Part one :-)

Gracie said the song ‘Us’ is a conversation where they’re singing to each other. What if Gracie and Taylor met earlier? Did you know they allegedly met because Taylor invited Gracie to her birthday in 2021, seems a rather personal thing to invite someone you’ve never met to right? What if it was an olive branch?

Late 2020-Early 2021 First meeting:

Gracie starts the conversation:

I know you know

(I know you that i’m queer and that I know that you’re queer)

It felt just like a joke

(We’re dancing around the topic it feels so silly)

I show, you don’t

(I tell you i’m queer, tell you about my girlfriend perhaps)

And now we're talkin'

I know your ghost

(Karlie)

I see her throw the smoke

(Through the smoke and mirrors, the lavender haze, the bearding)

She’ll play her show

(The performance of her life, the husband and kids)

And you’ll be watchin’

(You have to watch her do this)

From here we presume Taylor doesn’t take it the best or rather just doesn’t open up to her, perhaps it’s around just after the masters heist which is how Gracie picked up on her flagging and had the courage to bring it up.

And if history’s clear someone always ends up in ruins

(We don’t talk about it because someone ends up upset now)

And what seemed like fate becomes "What the hell was I doin'?"

(Reflecting on the conversation, I’m such an idiot why was I asking her that, this line calls back to failed coming out in Taylor’s verse)

Babylon lovers hanging lifetimes on a vine

Do you miss mine?

(I showed, you never heard about her again)

Gracie:

I know you know

It felt like somethin' old

It felt like somethin' holy, like souls bleedin', so

(A way to describe recognising queerness in another person, it does feel holy in a sense)

Gracie:

It fеlt like what I've known

(I recognised this in you and when i’m near you I can recognise it more)

You’re twenty nine years old

So how can you be cold when I open up my home?

(Why didn’t you give me yours? Why didn’t you open up to me? You’re twenty nine, you’re older than me, I should be the one that’s scared about this)

----------------------

💛 Part Two

Late 2021:

Taylor:

And if history’s clear the flames always end up in ashes

(Failed coming out, likely reason for not opening up)

And what seemed like fate give it ten months and you’ll be past it

(“Come to my Birthday party?”)

Babylon lovers hanging missed calls on the vine

I gave you mine

(I told you about my queerness and Karlie)

The chorus between verses floats through different targets. Gracie may have harboured some hurt feelings about the interaction, in turn probably hurt feelings about Taylor’s role in continuing the machine of closeting (especially in a time when she could be pivotal in breaking that machine for a young queer artist like herself; times are rapidly changing now but even five years ago there weren’t many out and proud big pop artists). Directing the “do you miss us?” at Taylor, do you miss the idea of what could have been? I felt it, I held it, I felt that you were coming out with Lover, I felt the ice castle cracking, do you regret not doing it?

By the second chorus they’ve teamed up, directing the questions at their audience, US. Do we mind? Do we mind that they’re glass closeted, that they know we know, do we miss what could have been? Do we regret listening to the queer signalling and being transfixed while also watching them being spineless in their tomb of silence?

The bridge is where they turn on the machine together, everyone that keeps them closeted, Record Labels, CEOs, Managers, Family etc etc

That night you were talking false prophets and profits

They make in the margins of poetry sonnets

(You made me into this idol for the world that I don’t want to be because it’s not who I am but I continue to do it and it is lining your pockets)

You never read up on it, shame could’ve learned something

(These people didn’t read the poetry sonnets, often that they’re the target of, could’ve learnt that they were destroying their lives)

Robert Bly on my nightstand, gifts from you, how ironic

(Robert Bly is famous for self help material, how ironic that you’re giving me this gift but also causing me to need it)

The curse or a miracle, hearse or an oracle

(Is being famous and closeted awful or once in twenty lifetimes? Will it kill us or save us?)

The last chorus is to this group of people, likely in the future.

All speculation :-)

[betterbooktitles]

Guillermo del Toro owns a second home that only has his stuff in it. Though the 59-year-old filmmaker is married with children, he keeps an entire second house to himself and fills it with frightening sculptures, inspiring pieces of art, toys, books, and movies, all of it his own curation. There are no kid’s drawings on the fridge, no side tables picked out by his spouse. It’s his personal playroom. He does most of the upkeep himself after a housecleaner broke the finger off one of his statues. He refers to it as a “man cave” or the “Bleak House” and often spends time alone writing there. Del Toro claims his wife likes it and has always supported his childhood dream house. She also prefers that his horrifying decorations don’t impede the aesthetic taste of the home they share as a family.

Having an entire home as a creative man cave that I am entirely in charge of would sound perfect to me if it weren’t for the fact that owning one home has become a nightmare even the best horror director could not fully capture on film.

I know I am lucky. The stats on Millennials owning their own homes are (if you will) bleak. But whatever I thought was irritating me in the city wasn’t nearly as bad as the physical and mental work required to live in a house. It drains bank accounts and my will to do more than one thing per day. When I was young and lived in New York, I scheduled my days like a CEO or politician: meetings, lunches, podcasts, and stand-up shows all crammed together to the minute as if I could teleport between venues. Now, if Wednesday morning includes a Home Depot run and a painting project, realistically, I’m not doing anything after that until Saturday. The laundry list of what needs to be fixed or maintained in the house grows every day. In the winter, there are rooms I simply don’t use because of a draft I can’t fix. In the summers, the yard becomes something we have to actively fight against lest new trees and mushrooms and 6-foot tall weeds that resemble stalks of asparagus take over everything. The current issue is a dead tree blocking a path to the backyard because wisteria vines are pulling it to the ground. It’s the fastest I’ve ever seen a plant move outside of Evil Dead.

Though we struggle to keep up with our checklists, my wife and I have ambitions for the house outside of general maintenance. We’d like a bigger kitchen, a functional garden, and a fence that looks like a stiff breeze wouldn’t knock it over. The house is fine without these physical flourishes, but the fantasy is always there, nagging whispers in the brain of how nice it could be given unlimited time and resources. That nagging gets into my head about a whole house devoted to my creative dreams.

When I fantasize about what I’d like most if money and time were no object, I find myself thinking about a home theater. Unfortunately, money is an object, and the “fun budget” was consumed by the “necessities budget” a year ago. We already replaced the furnace and AC, dug up tiles in the den, painted nearly every room, replaced doors, one of which was rotting the wood at the edges because it hadn’t been replaced since 1986, the year I was born. Still, the list grows. A dedicated line to the kitchen needs to be added by an electrician so the fuse doesn’t blow whenever I use the toaster and the electric kettle at the same time. The fence and what it nominally protects behind the house needs to be reworked before bunnies consume everything that isn’t a weed. The ancient carpeting needs to be ripped up, bathrooms need to be redone by professionals so my body can actually fit comfortably inside one. Walls need to come down to make living spaces seem less like hallways, and the bay window on the second floor that appears to be melting toward the ground needs to be addressed by a professional architect before the wind rips it off the bedroom wall like a giant scab. After all of that is finished, I’d still need to move into a newer, much bigger house if I want to have a home theater. 

Where did the yearning for a private theater come from? Unlike Del Toro’s childhood fantasy of having a house all his own, my wish for this extravagance came much later. I was 30, and I remember exactly how the seed was planted: Zillow. I spent hours on the site, letting the mortgage/insurance calculator tell me what I could afford for the same amount I paid in rent in Brooklyn. On my phone’s screen, I saw a $400,000 mansion in my wife’s hometown outside of Pittsburgh that was the most beautiful house I’d ever seen. It had high wood ceilings and multiple fireplaces to make the whole giant house feel like a cabin. I had 8 bedrooms and a home theater. Imagine, I thought, how good a movie must be in a theater in your own home. Imagine the parties with friends. Imagine movie nights where you force your kids to watch Back to the Future for the first time in a close approximation to the space where you saw it. Playing an old cartoon and a few YouTube’d trailers from the 80s. A little popcorn machine in the corner. Speakers that are way too loud. The dream.

I’ve realized recently, however, how silly the longing for a home theater is for me specifically. I don’t like watching sports at home. I need the atmosphere of screaming people either in the arena itself or in a bar. I need the game to be live. I need to be out among strangers or friends. I feel the same way about movies. I need other people with me, laughing, crying, gasping, clapping. 

Read the rest here.

[brakingpoint]

Idk if you have seen this question go around twitter and tiktok, but i have seen a lot of people discuss "if the 20 drivers on the grid were in the hunger games, how would they perform?"

I would like to hear your take! :)

thank you SO much for sending me this... i would not call myself a hunger games connoisseur because i put all my energy into hyperfixating on the prequel instead but i AM a hunger games enthusiast and i spent far too long thinking about this in the shower. also i'm doing the 2022 grid bc i don't have the vibes of the 2023 newbies totally locked down yet

(also i'm doing this as everyone roughly competing in individual games as opposed to against each other. bc i think that is more fun)

max: adjusting for inflation (how old he was when he started f1 vs the age you have to be to do the hunger games) he is like, a career tribute in training from district 2 who jumps up and volunteers when he is about twelve and then effortlessly wins the whole thing. gives an insanely nonchalant victory interview, does the victory tour like he's being held at gunpoint, and then is never seen again

charles: finnick odair if he kept almost getting murdered by other people's poor decisions. receives the most strategically pointless gifts from sponsors. literally put him in a desert arena and he will inexplicably be sent raincoats by the dozen

checo: ceo of coasting his way to the final like, three or four tributes based on a combination of luck, occasionally clever moves, and mostly just getting forgotten by everyone. his downfall comes when he overestimates the loyalties of the tributes he's in an alliance with and they stab him in the back (literally) with no remorse

carlos: objectively promising, great scores when he does his little demonstration, capitol haircare brands are tripping over each other to do a deal with him when he wins (because surely he will) but in practice he's another one who mostly just shithouses his way to the final three/four by being in the right place at the right time

lewis: scarily good. wins 75% on strategy, stealth, and speed and 25% by occasionally lashing out and murdering someone off the face of the planet but somehow avoids blame for it. also you know he somehow manages to wear the fuck out of whatever heinous fit he gets put in to ride in those chariots

lando: almost inadvertently starts a revolution because from the second he shows up in the reaping he gets such a devoted nationwide teenage girl fanbase that there are legitimate riots when he dies through an objectively silly unforced error in the final days of the games. also almost inadvertently gets assassinated before the games even start because he says something landogate worthy about the president in his interview. he was just having a laff

esteban: is genuinely just sort of having a nice time camping out in the trees and avoiding all the drama. it is just very unfortunate that in some idk quarter quell gender ratio fuckery he managed to get reaped alongside his childhood bestie pierre who has devoted his entire time in the arena to murdering esteban and esteban specifially

fernando: absolutely fucking terrifying. they have to stop showing his murders on tv because he's a little too gory even for the central thesis of the hunger games as an institution. he's just chill about it though. cracking his little yokes

valtteri: builds up so much pure boiling rage from being constantly ignored compared to the other tribute from his district that after a week or so of surviving because everyone kept ignoring him he finally snaps, swings through the forest on a vine tarzan-style screaming TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN, FUCK YOU, takes out four career tributes in the space of fifteen seconds, and then slams right into another tree killing himself instantly

daniel: crowd favourite going into the arena. makes a little joke at the reaping, serves in all his silly little outfits, gets great scores, secures the most sponsors, has the most charming interview in the history of the hunger games. and then when he's on the little platform waiting for the games to start he gets a bit too excited, starts doing a little dance, and gets blown up immediately

seb: another unlikely child prodigy victor with a polarising but highly effective tactic of utter ruthlessness paired with being very charming and also crying a lot. he is at his most powerful and dangerous, however, when he moves into the mentoring side of things because not only is he just an objectively good mentor but he does it while plotting to take down the capitol from the inside at the same time. the hunger games trilogy vs the hunger games trilogy if katniss had sebastian vettel for a mentor

kevin: impressive scores from the gamemakers (voted most likely to have a bit of a katniss moment during the evaluation; fok smashes door on his way out?) but doesn't really do a whole lot during the actual games. makes it pretty far and has a couple of genuinely impressive kills but is let down by a lack of sponsors and getting a little too invested in his vicious rivalry with nico hulkenberg

pierre: bit of a rollercoaster ride. impressive pre-games energy, good scores, looks hot in the interview, but tries to hang with the career tributes very early on and nearly flops his way to an early grave. not to be discouraged, he strikes out on his own and makes it impressively far as a free agent, but keeps putting himself back in danger by focusing too much on a) regaining the respect of the careers who really couldn't care less and mostly just want to kill this guy every time he shows up and b) taking any opportunity to slaughter esteban. killed around the time of the cornucopia feast (yuki's fault)

lance: exceptionally dangerous but not intentionally so. at first the general commentary take is that he's very good at making his kills look like an accident, until they finally get the right camera angles and it transpires that all of his kills are in fact total accidents that come about through his own recklessness and stupidity. unlikely fan favourite due to his perpetual exasperation with his mentor (brad)

mick: the son of a fearsome victor from days gone by but largely underestimated due to his nice guy reputation. attempts to leverage this by taking a kind of johanna mason angle and appearing utterly unthreatening until the last minute when he plans to brutally and efficiently kill every other remaining tribute, but his tactic backfires dramatically due to the incompetence of his mentor and sponsors and he starves to death in the middle stages of the games

yuki: gets unexpectedly far due to his small stature making it easy to hide and by forming an alliance with pierre that charms the crowds and prompts widespread speculation about whether there is a romance brewing in the arena. unfortunately he gets them both killed with his reckless enthusiasm about the feast at the cornucopia

zhou: yet another one who gets really far mostly by being ignored. once he gets into the arena, that is. the entire buildup to the games is defined by his rapid ascent to capitol fashion icon. he wins the whole thing through a combination of laying low and getting sweet sweet sponsor gifts and then is permitted to stay in the capitol where he enjoys a prosperous career as stylist for future tributes

alex: he either dies in the very first brawl at the cornucopia OR sneaks his way to the final handful of tributes and wins the whole thing, no inbetween. if he does make it to the end he has at least one dramatic near death experience due to overestimating the kindness of the careers he forms a brief and tentative alliance with but he gets excellent medical care from his sponsors who are mostly supporting him because they saw a really cute video of his cats back in his home district

nicky: again he either dies immediately OR he coasts to the end by being a bit mid and forgettable foxface style and when there's around four tributes left he attempts a raid on their encampment to get food and somehow, in a series of events that no number of replays have ever successfully put into a logical sequence, blows up half the arena and everyone in it, leaving the games without a victor and setting into motion a series of events that lead to the downfall of the capitol, the destruction of half of panem, and a dramatic coup. after all this max verstappen finally looks out of the door of his house in the victor's village in what remains of district two, where he has been playing sim racing games for the past ten years, sort of shrugs his shoulders, and goes back to hanging out with his cats

bonus nico rosberg: district one career tribute, runner up, mostly remembered for the intense psychological warfare between himself and lewis after they formed an alliance in the first hour of the game that got so deeply homoerotic that the gamemakers were like full time on the phone to president snow like hey man. we might have to allow two victors this year or people are gonna be really mad. but luckily nico and lewis solved that problem themselves by turning on each other when they were the only two people left and engaging in a like three-week long increasingly toxic cat and mouse chase that had the entire nation glued to their televisions 25/8

[starofmithras]

Prayer to Aristaios

Statue: Antinous as Aristaeus, Artist Unknown

Sing, O Muse, of gentle Aristaios,

Most useful God of the country,

Nomios and Argeus,

Friend of bees and companion of the Melissai,

Protector of flocks and pastures,

Cheesemaker and hive-keeper,

Nurturer of the olive and vine.

Your many great deeds are renowned

Throughout the isles of the broad 

Aegean, Ionian, and Adriatic.

Educated by Chiron, you learned

Gifts of prophecy and healing 

From the graceful Mousai.

Son of bright Apollon and bold Kyrene,

Husband of Autonoe 

And father to poor, doomed Actaeon.

As dogs vanquished your son,

So do you vanquish the Sun's dog days.

Remember us now,

O exhilarating God,

At this time when Sirius 

Rises in the sky,

Bringing pestilential heat

And mind-fogging mania.

As you did for the people of Ceos,

Bring the refreshing Etesian winds

To our lands scorched by summer's drought.

At Zeus' command

Harness the reticent breezes

And pour them onto our meadows and pastures.

Bring the Thunderer's thirst-quenching rain

To our fields and plants and flowers.

Relieve blessed Gaia and her copious children

From the swelter of plague-bringing humidity.

As you have for ages unnumbered,

Show merciful kindness to us

In our time of need,

O benevolent alleviator of strife.

Waft upon us pure streams

Of cool, languid comfort once again,

O Mighty One.

--- by Kyle Kepulis

[famousfilmsfan]

The bad business owner plush

Vendi: Now. As a former Fazbear CEO, and a member of this polycule. I expect total honesty from you.

Jon: i expect the same.

Vendi: Okay then. Explain why i have cctv footage of you, several years ago switching labels on two boxes in the lobby?

Jon: Oh uh..they were labeled wrong so i fixed them.

Vendi: Really? Those boxes contained the ‘Bad business owner’ and ‘Perfect business owner’ plushies. I checked with the manufacturers and apparently you were supposed to be the ’bad business owner’ plush due to your location having vines and spiders in it.

Jon: Uh..*incredibly guilty* You see the reason is..

Vendi:…Go on

Jon: I was..jealous. Bryan to me at the time had everything…loving parents, lots of money, friends, a good body and face, why does he get the perfect plush..so when I came here for my first check I saw the boxes and..switched the labels around when nobody was looking

Vendi: And when you learned of how much the nickname affected Bryan?

Jon: I kept quiet…if I told him I was the reason for it he would never forgive me.

Vendi: Okay. Jonathan. I’m giving you two choices…either you tell Bryan what you did yourself..or I tell him.

Jon: Do we have too? Please can’t this just stay between us?

Vendi: Jon. These secrets always come out sooner or later. If you don’t tell him by the end of the day I will.

Jon:…

A few hours later

Bryan: Oh hey babe

Jon:..hey.. can we talk?

Bryan: Oh god are you helping the villains again?

Jon: What? No!

Bryan: Sorry it’s just you’ve done it several times

Jon: What? Just once!

Bryan: Remember summer camp in highschool?

Jon: Oh yeah..the whole Jason thing…anyway. It’s not that. You know the…bad business owner plushie?

Bryan: Yeah it’s only the third worst thing that’s happened in this company to me.

Jon; Well uh. It turns out when I was at the tower for my first check I saw the boxes containing both prototypes of our plushies and uh…this is funny..I switched the labels due to jealousy and made myself the perfect business owner…you were supposed to be the perfect one not me.

Bryan:….

Jon: You know it is funny if you think about it. Because that Plush made you work harder

Bryan:…

Jon: And work more to prove everyone wrong

Bryan:…

Jon: Right?

Bryan:…..

Jon: Come on Say something!

Bryan:…*darkly* Jonathan.

Jon: *gulp*

Bryan: You will be sleeping on the couch for a month. You won’t get any cuddling time. You will rename your plushie and mine. you will tell every animatronic personally about how you did it. And me and Vendi will have complete control of your wardrobe and twitter account. Got it?

Jon; Yes Bryan. what do I rename Mine?

Steve: ‘Worst business owner of all time plush’ Wow Bryan didn’t hold back

G.Freddy: Well

[lurafita]

Crack thought about Max Lightwood fully embracing mundane gen z slang, memes, vines and things like that. (Which I had to Google because I'm definitely too old to know those)

And the others just never knowing what he is talking about. Especially when Max it talking to another kid his age while showing them around or stuff.

Max: "That's Magnus, my bro in law. He is like the CEO of magic."

Magnus: "I may be the owner of a few mundane businesses, but I gave over the position of CEO to capable humans. And none of them are any the wiser about magic or the shadow world."

Max: "My mom got a super glow up last year."

Jace: "... Do you mean when she bought those decorative lamps?"

Max: "That's my oldest bro. He is super dank."

Alec, looking down at himself, wondering if he stepped into a puddle.

.

[zee-man-chatter]

Mainstream Media Is Avoiding the Big Story on Jeffrey Epstein and Sealed Court Documents

By Pam Martens and Russ Martens: January 3, 2024 ~

Over the past week, more than a dozen of the biggest mainstream news outlets have published articles about the possibility of scandalous news breaking this week from the unsealing of documents in a federal court case involving the sex trafficker of minors, Jeffrey Epstein.

Typically, responsible news outlets wait for the actual news to break before hyping the possibility of it breaking. At 5:59 a.m. this morning, Newsweek updated the story as follows:

“Some on social media are speculating that the public disclosure of more than 150 names associated with the late sex offender Jeffrey Epstein has been delayed.

“Judge Loretta A. Preska signed an order on December 18 for the public release of the identities of more than 150 people mentioned in court documents from a now-settled 2015 civil lawsuit filed by Virginia Giuffre that centered on allegations that Epstein’s associate and former girlfriend Ghislaine Maxwell facilitated her sexual abuse.

“Several prominent figures, including former President Bill Clinton and Britain’s Prince Andrew are expected to be named. The list will also include sex abuse victims and Epstein’s employees.”

Bill Clinton, Prince Andrew, Donald Trump, and dozens of other prominent men in politics, finance and law have already been named, repeatedly, in the media as people who socialized or had suspect dealings with Epstein. So this is not a new story.

The real story that mainstream media refuses to investigate is why federal judges in New York have been allowed to secret away in sealed documents the puzzle pieces to how Epstein’s network of powerful men were able to run a sex trafficking ring for two decades with the “active participation” of the largest federally-insured bank in the United States, JPMorgan Chase; and right under the nose of its Chairman, CEO and media darling, Jamie Dimon.

This is the Big Story that has been left to wilt on the vine by the likes of the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, Washington Post and their peers.

The answers to this Big Story will not be found in the documents slated to be unsealed by Judge Loretta Preska in the Virginia Giuffre case. They have been sealed and locked up tight in Judge Jed Rakoff’s courtroom after he oversaw multiple Epstein-related lawsuits brought against JPMorgan Chase in late 2022 and 2023.

One case, Jane Doe v JPMorgan Chase, was a class action on behalf of Epstein’s sex assault and sex trafficked victims. Judge Rakoff approved its settlement for $290 million despite objections from 17 Attorneys General and the settlement’s unconscionable terms that included releasing claims for “harm, injury, abuse, exploitation, or trafficking by Jeffrey Epstein or by any person who is in any way connected to or otherwise associated with Jeffrey Epstein, as well as any right to recovery on account thereof.” Claimants were also required to sign the release form before they learned if they would get a dime from the settlement.

Attorneys for the victims were not left in any such doubt. The settlement terms provided them with $87 million in legal fees and $2.5 million in expenses.

Releasing claims against “Any person who is in any way connected to or otherwise associated with Jeffrey Epstein” conveniently includes a number of billionaires referred by Epstein to JPMorgan Chase as clients. There are also literally hundreds of high-profile individuals that were listed in Epstein’s little black book that could be considered “connected” to him.

Many of the individuals listed in Epstein’s little black book – a total of 1,571 – have had important banking relationships with JPMorgan Chase. In a court filing on July 26 of last year by the Attorney General of the U.S. Virgin Islands, which has since settled its Epstein-related case against JPMorgan Chase for $75 million, it listed the following individuals as people Epstein referred as clients to the bank: Microsoft co-founder and billionaire Bill Gates; Google co-founder and billionaire Sergey Brin; the Sultan of Dubai, Sultan Ahmed bin Sulayem; media and real estate billionaire Mort Zuckerman; and numerous others.

Epstein’s victims charged in their lawsuit that JPMorgan Chase had, for more than a decade, provided Epstein with cozy banking services, which included sluicing to him millions of dollars in hard cash from his accounts, sometimes as much as $40,000 to $80,000 a month. The bank failed to file the Suspicious Activity Reports (SARs) that it is legally required to file with the Financial Crimes Enforcement Network (FinCEN) for those payments in cash. Epstein’s alleged quid pro quo with the bank included him referring valuable business deals and clients to JPMorgan Chase. These allegations were substantiated by 22 pages of internal bank emails released in the related case brought against the bank by the U.S. Virgin Islands.

A third Epstein-related case was brought against JPMorgan Chase in Rakoff’s court by two public pension funds that owned shares of JPMorgan Chase. That lawsuit named Dimon as a defendant as well as current and former members of JPMorgan Chase’s Board of Directors. It was brought by a prominent class action law firm on behalf of shareholders of the bank. The lawsuit’s theory of the case was that specific members of the Board of JPMorgan Chase “put their heads in the sand” and ignored that the bank had become a cash conduit for Jeffrey Epstein’s child sex trafficking ring because they were hoping that their own verifiable business ties to Epstein “would go unnoticed.” (We might add an attendant thesis: that Dimon takes very good care of his Board in return for them taking very good care of him.)

Mainstream media ignored the allegations that members of the JPMorgan Chase Board of Directors had business ties with Epstein and Judge Rakoff wasted no time in dismissing the case on technical grounds. (This was not the first time that a major scandal involving JPMorgan Chase received a news blackout by mainstream media.)

The other Big Story is why after 18 years of police and FBI investigations of Epstein and his wide sex trafficking ring, the U.S. Department of Justice has brought criminal charges against only two people: Jeffrey Epstein and Ghislaine Maxwell.

There is also no indication, at present, that the Justice Department is preparing to bring a criminal case against JPMorgan Chase, despite its recidivist history of felony charges (including two felony counts for money laundering) and a former FBI agent’s statement on how the bank “impeded” a criminal investigation of Epstein. (See: New Court Documents Suggest the Justice Department Under Four Presidents Covered Up Jeffrey Epstein’s Money Laundering at JPMorgan Chase.)

Two different stories, draw your own conclusions, the rabbit hole goes pretty deep.

[biteofcherry]

Happy Wetnessday 💦

Today you have 3 companies and their CEOs wanting to hire you as assistant (and future wife). Which company and CEO do you go with?

Barber Law - Andy Barbers law company that he opened after leaving his ex wife. He has great (and quick) plans for you. You won't be on assistant duty for long. Maybe that's why he's so eager to hire you before the annual summer party? 😏

Blood like Vine - A publishing company founded by Harlan Thrombey and now run by his cocky grandson Ransom Drysdale. He did bring fresh wind into the company and publishing industry. It was fun watching all these business people clutch their pearls when he strut in with his filthy mouth and grand (and successful) ideas but now his new plan is to settle down... at least that plan formed when he first met you at your interview.

GeekGuard - a tech company that specializes in programming and cyber security founded by army vet Jake Jensen. He's awkward but cute and so fond of you that he can't wait to put his 10 step plan to make you his, in motion once you accept his very generous offer. (I used a name randomizer for the company name and it made me chuckle so it's part of the lore now: GeekGuard was a name he often got called in school so he used it as company name)

So who do you choose? No matter who, you'll end up as the CEOs wife sooner or later 😏

xoxo Wetnessday anon 💦

Aaaah, all of these are soooo goood! 🩷 How am I supposed to pick?

Each of these men has something that tempts and lures me. Andy with his soft dom hubby material. Ransom's wit and unlimited access to books. Jake's pure heart and joyous nature.

You know what?

I think I'm going to shock everyone, myself included, but this time I'm picking...

Jakey! 💕

I'm craving some fun, soft, geek to have Star Wars marathons with. We'd definitely both share the enthusiasm for our nieces/nephews and take them on fun trips. With Jake there's a lot of simple sweetness and patience, so I imagine the arguments wouldn't be heated and nasty, but quickly resolved.

The fact he looks like that is definitely a bonus and I'm sure we'd both be dropping terrible, dirty lines 😂 Though I may occasionally try talking him into changing his facial hair. I love him as he is, but perhaps he could be adventurous and shave it off or go for a full beard...

... yk

Not to mention he'd fix my parents' laptop and/or smartphone problems 🤣

Jake wins me this Wetnessday, ha!

P.S: Now that I think about it more, it's really the facial hair that keep me from picking Jake more often. It's purely shallow of me, but I'm really not into that goatee and the bleach blonde 😂 But I'm loving more and more the idea of current looking CEvans with glasses to be Jake.

[scribeforchrist-blog]

Beginning and Depending on God

MEMORY VERSE OF THE WEEK

=========================

+ Proverbs 14:16 One who is wise is cautious and turns away from evil, but a fool is reckless and careless.

=========================

VERSE OF THE DAY

========================

+ James 4:17 So whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin.

=========================

** SAY THIS BEFORE YOU READ; HERE’S SOME CHRISTIAN TRUTHS **

I AM DEPENDING ON GOD

I AM STARTING MY DAY WITH GOD

I AM DEVOTED TO GOD

I AM LIVING IN THE LIGHT

========================

READ TIME: 8 Minutes & 31 Seconds

========================

THOUGHTS:

=======================

     Many of us know the right thing to do and what to do, but we refuse to do it because we feel like it's our life. When we have this attitude, we will never grow in God because we are pursuing our plans. We read this week that Israel told God they were comfortable with their sins, and they didn’t 

want to change. A lot of us are like this, but when we keep going back and forth between God and the world, we are thinking, “I don’t care what God has for me; I want this; I don’t care what God thinks of this I want that,” and we have to stop being this way because this is killing us spiritually some us are so dead spiritually we can't pray, we can't worship, because we need to repent

 John 15:4 Remain in me, as I also remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.

   When we remain in God, repent, and do as he say, we will produce fruits, but when we do what we want and fail to do the right thing, we won't change. We can try to water whatever it is ourselves, go to counseling, go to the gym, and go to therapy, but if we aren’t doing it in him, if we don’t depend on him if we aren’t growing through him, we won't grow anything!! He says that we won’t bear the fruit by ourselves; we must look at God as the fertilizer to the garden of our life; we can plant all the right things and do all the right things, but if we don’t have God and we don’t fertilize and separate and do what he says we won’t grow anything.

Verse 5: “I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me, you can do nothing

 Again, it tells us we won't accomplish anything when we do it ourselves. He is the vine, the source, the main thing, the menu to our life, the team lead, the CEO, the vine, and everything regarding change in our lives. Every day, we can choose God, life, and light, but if we take the opportunity to do everything opposite, we won't grow. Some of us are not achieving anything in our lives because we have forgotten about God; we have let go of our prayer or worship time, and we have stopped doing what we know how to do because we haven’t made time for God.

  Verse 8: To my father’s glory, you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples.

 It says that when we bear fruit, we are showing the world we are his disciples, but when we do what we want and react the way we want, we won't grow and change. We won't bear fruit; some of us are bearing nothing because we are comfortable with that, but God wants us to grow deeper in him, and to do that, he must dig up the weeds. He must move us to another pot meaning placing us in different situations , and he can do that because he is a God; he doesn’t have to ask us or tell us. I had some problems, and I didn’t even realize I wasn’t dealing with them until he stepped in and showed me a better way.

  Sometimes, we don’t see our problems because we have become immune to our bad words, bad behavior, and bad habits; we become immune to it all ,to get healed, for him to teach us. We must be willing to learn. We must be willing to let go of what we taught ourselves and be willing to learn from him, see God see us right where we are; we don’t have to pretend to be these people who know what we are doing; we can go to God in whatever state we are in, and he will show us the way.

 John14:6 Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father but by me.

  It tells us here Jesus is the truth, and he’s the life; we don’t have any of these things living in us until we start to know him until we come to him; some of us are trying to get ourselves back in line with God, and we keep failing because we think we have to do that on our own , all he wants us to do every day is to come to him, read our word ,come to him and pray and come to him and worship, but some of us don’t even try because we don’t have the will power to say no to the flesh, we have to make the choice he’s not going to make us, are you willing to change? Are you willing to have him fertilize your life with good things?

  Psalm 54:4 Behold, God is my helper; the Lord is the upholder of my life

  David realized he couldn’t do anything without God; David realized that God held his life in his hands, and he couldn’t have a life without God; if it weren’t for God, he wouldn’t have gone from a shepherd boy to a king, that everything in his life was because of God. We must understand that God loves us so much and that our lives can’t begin until we depend on God; God doesn’t want us to depend on anyone else to fix us.

   I hit a tough point in my life. I thought going to therapy was excellent and going on medication would be great, but what I realize is those things are there to help. Still, my biggest help was when I started gathering around God more; I started reading my word more. I started praying more, and when I did that, that is what helped me through my tough spot; sometimes it’s not what we do, it’s who we do it with, friends; when I started doing more with My God when I started sitting down and having an honest conversation with My God, I started seeing a difference. Until we start having honest conversations and authentic moments with God, we won’t change. Start a real conversation and intimacy with God, and you’ll see the difference.

  ***Today, we talked about God being over our lives and about him being everything to us, not just someone we know, but a God in our lives; we can start seeing the difference. Proverbs 3 tells us something powerful, and this is a verse many of us can quote, but do we apply it? Do we honestly lean on God with all our hearts and souls?? Do we genuinely acknowledge him or just say I know him.

 Proverbs 3:5- 6: Trust the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your understanding. In all your ways, acknowledge him, and he will direct your paths.

  God can make the path we are on straight. He can take care of us even in our challenging times; he can do everything we need, but we must depend on him, not medication, not our therapist, not our spouses, not our jobs, but Him; we must start making Him the head and not the tail. He’s the alpha and the omega, the beginning and the end; he’s our everything, but we must acknowledge him as this! If you have found yourself in a situation where you haven’t acknowledged him, take the time to see the difference.  ©Seer~ Prophetess Lee

========================

PRAYER

========================

Heavenly Father, we thank you for everything; we ask you to help us acknowledge you and help us to seek you every day. Lord, we have stuff to do and places to go, but we ask you to help us seek you daily! Lord, we love you so much, and we are sorry if we have been ignoring you; we are sorry if we refuse to give you honor; we ask that you help us to draw closer to you every day in Jesus' Name, Amen

========================

REFERENCES

========================

+ Hebrews 13:6 So we can confidently say, “The Lord is my helper; I will not fear; what can man do to me?”

 

+ Psalm 121:2 My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.

 

+ Philippians 4:19 And my God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus

========================

FURTHER READINGS

=========================

Proverbs 29

Leviticus 29

Numbers 11

1 Samuel 16

 =========================